“Casino time!” he says with a grin as we head back. His eyes are lit with contagious excitement, and I laugh.
“Are you sure? It’s my first time. I might suck,” I say.
“No, no, no, wrong attitude. It’s beginner’s luck, not beginners suck.”
I grin. “Okay. But only blackjack, and only a few games,” I remind him.
“Whatever you want, Ms. Parker. Told you it’s your night.”
His carefree tone makes me feel ten times lighter. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good and confident, even if the pesky paparazzi do jump out to snap a few more shots. It’s just for one night, and I can grin and bear it, although the attention is probably going to give me hives.
It’s for a good cause. After this, nobody will be able to call Elizabeth’s auctions “fake.”
And she does do a lot with the money raised. This one was for pediatric oncology, but her foundation routinely helps struggling single moms trying to raise kids, like my own mother used to.
The casino’s overwhelming. My grip on Nate’s arm tightens as I look around at the bright lights, the loud cries, the jangling slot machines and clapping at a few tables where somebody must’ve won big. Skimpily dressed waitresses walk around with trays laden with drinks, weaving like slippery fish.
A guy comes over and smiles at Nate. His teeth are straight and white, blinding against his smooth, dark skin. The light reflects off his hairless head, but the bald look works for him. “Mr. Sterling!”
“Hey, Tiny. What’s up?”
I blink at the name. There’s nothing tiny about the man. He doesn’t even have a discernable neck. His black suit stretches over his giant muscles, and I’m afraid he’s going to rip the seams if he flexes too hard.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Tiny says.
“Been busy.”
“This your date for the evening?” He grins. “She’s pretty.”
I can feel myself flushing at the attention. Do not hurl…
“Yes. Evie Parker. This is Tiny Tim.”
I extend a hand. Tiny Tim holds it as gingerly as he would hold a snowflake and shakes gently. I like him immediately.
They exchange a few jokes about gambling and probabilities that go way over my head. Then Nate takes me past several crowded tables to an empty one set up for two, plus the dealer. Nate gestures at me to take a seat, and I realize the casino has prepared this just for us. His chips are already stacked high. This must be how it is when you’re a regular with deep pockets.
A waitress comes by for our drink order. “You already had three at dinner,” I whisper to Nate, not wanting him to lose his head at the casino and do something he’ll regret tomorrow.
“Yeah, but that glass of port was tiny.” He holds out his thumb and index finger with a microscopic distance between the two. “One more won’t hurt. I promise.”
I mull that over. I only had one glass of wine and the port, so if I must, I think I can manage him. And there’s always Tiny. “Well…okay. But just one.”
“You’re so strict.”
“I still remember what happened.” The most heart-fluttering moment of my life— and the most awkward, because I knew all the sweet things he said were alcohol-induced. So not doing that again. Ever.
A wince passes over his face. “You’re right. Champagne good?”
“I’ll have a mimosa.”
He orders our drinks and the waitress disappears. Nate tosses a few chips, and the dealer slides a card toward me, then another to Nate.
I check what I got. A ten of hearts. Not a bad start. I glance at Nate and the dealer. Poker faces. I lick my lips, nervous and excited at the same time.
The waitress hands us our drinks. I clink glasses with Nate while the dealer gives us our second cards.
“For luck,” he says.