Page 2 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
He grabbed my hand. “Come on, Emmy. We’re going for a ride.”
I didn’t miss his cheesy innuendo so I gave him my best eye roll while trudging along behind him.
With a hard tug, he pulled me to his side. Never letting go of my hand, we walked side by side along the crowded sidewalk. My small hand fit in his large grip perfectly and my fingers naturally laced through his.
“Up there. That’s our ride,” he said, raising our linked hands to point out the Stratosphere hotel.
I looked way, way up. A roller coaster car circled the top of the skyscraper. “No. No way. Roller coasters that start at ground level are scary enough. I don’t need to experience one thirty stories up.”
“I dare you to do it.”
“A dare? We’re not in middle school, Nick.”
He stopped walking and stepped right into my space, his minty breath hit my cheek. “A dare’s a dare, Emmy. No matter how old you are. You can tell a lot about a person by their reaction to a dare.”
A flush of warmth spread through my cheeks at his intimate tone and closeness. My heart started to race again. His vibrant eyes were looking down at me with such intensity, my worries and reservations all disappeared. As long as I could look into those eyes, everything would be okay.
“Fun?” Nick asked, helping me out of the roller coaster car.
“Yes.” The second the ride had ended, a huge smile had broken across my face.
“Good. Up next we’re going to a strip club.”
“Absolutely not. I have no desire to watch you ogle perfectly plasticized, naked women as they dance around in front of you.”
A crooked grin stretched across his mouth. “Dare you.”
“Oh for the love . . .” I muttered and stomped past him, dragging him along behind me. “Let’s go.”
Nick took the lead when we hit the sidewalk and maneuvered us to our show. I was so happy to be with him, still on a high from the roller coaster, I blanked out the world around us and stuck tightly to his side. When we got close, he asked me to close my eyes and to trust him.
“Okay. Open your eyes, Emmy,” he said against my ear, sending a shiver down my neck.
The smile on my face vanished when I opened my eyes. Somehow he had managed to shield me from the casino signs because, had I seen where he was taking me, I would have vehemently protested.
“What?” My feet refused to step further into the room. We had just walked through the doors to Thunder From Down Under. “I thought you said we were going to a strip club.”
“We are. You just assumed I meant female strippers.”
“I am not watching greased-up men dressed like the Village People gyrate on stage.”
“Too late. Show starts in three minutes. Let’s grab a quick drink and then go to our seats,” he said, dragging me to the bar.
Nick lifted his chin, summoning the female bartender, who ignored the masses of women surrounding us and came directly to him. She was probably glad to have a break from the estrogen and serve the one and only man at this ridiculous show. It didn’t hurt that Nick was smoking hot.
“Four lemon drops. Two shots of Jack straight up,” Nick ordered. One minute later, all six shots were lined up in front of us.
“Here you go, Emmy. Get to it.” He pointed to the lemon drops.
“I can’t take four shots! I’ll puke!” That comment got me strange looks from the horde of women close by.
“Hurry up,” he said, drumming his fingers on the bar. “You’re going to want those.”
“What about you?”
He answered by taking the whiskey shots and throwing them back, one right after the other.
If I didn’t “get to it,” he would just dare me again, so I reluctantly picked up one glass and set the sugar-covered rim on my lips.
