RAIN
“Rough night?”
Well.
A good-looking guy in Las Vegas.
I was beginning to think they were all soft and pasty and wore Members Only jackets. Like all the other guys surrounding me in the elevator.
He looked from the strappy heels dangling from my fingers, to my feet.
Yes, I was walking around a Las Vegas hotel barefoot.
At least my pedi rocked.
At the time I thought it had been a rough night. Turned out I didn’t know the half of it.
“Yeah. I needed a break from these torture devices,” I said, waving them around. He had no idea how much women suffered wearing these goddamn things. Men should wear heels for a day. See how they liked it.
Amusement lit his face, and he stared at me for a moment, leaving me squirming.
Sensing my discomfort, he looked away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him looking at the floor, pressing his lips together and trying not to laugh.
Damn, this was a slow elevator. But then, The Venetian’s elevators were always slow. Great hotel for the price, but it was starting to show its age. Of course, it didn’t help that people were getting off on every floor.
And it was three in the goddamn morning. But that was Las Vegas for you. No windows, endless bright lights, and lots of food and alcohol available around the clock. Even the outdoor swimming pools were so brightly lit you wouldn’t know it was the middle of the night unless you spotted the moon.
Yeah, Vegas was the land of the twenty-four-hour lifestyle. There was little nine-to-fiving going on here. Just ask my sister, Mazzy.
At the witching hour of three a.m., she was up in our room—yes, the room we were supposedly sharing—boning some stranger.
And because of that, I was not in bed, sleeping—the one place in the world I really wanted to be.
I was tired. I was not happy.
And my feet were screaming in pain.
But I’d nonetheless grabbed my shoes and bag when she came blasting in with her booty call, just as I’d been brushing my teeth, getting ready to crash after a long night of pretending I was having fun partying it up in Vegas. I needed to get a little beauty sleep in preparation for the next day’s strenuous plan to sit by the pool and soak up rays. So much for that. All I could hope for at this point was to sit by the pool and catch a nap.
Mazzy’s booty call was an Uber driver, the very one who’d dropped us in front of the hotel not long before I’d found myself in a crowded elevator. After we’d exited his car, Mazzy had leaned through his passenger window as if she were saying goodbye to a long-lost friend. Tired of waiting, I’d eventually ditched her and headed up to our room.
Guess they hit it off.
“Mazzy. Can I speak to you?” I’d hissed from the bathroom as soon as I saw them tumbling on her bed.
“What? Oh. Sure,” she said, pushing herself up and running over to me with a bright smile on her face.
The guy on the bed waved at me. “Hey, sis, why don’t you join us? I got enough love in me for the both of you,” he said, pointing at his crotch.
Ohforchristssake.
I was surprised he didn’t just whip it out for me. Maybe if I’d given him another moment, he would have.
It wasn’t like my sister to have such rock-bottom taste. She didn’t always bring home the best guys, but this one was a record-breaker.
I pulled Mazzy into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving the Uber driver fantasizing about having landed a coveted sister-threesome.
“Really, Maz? Are you kidding me?”
Her smiled faltered but only for a second. “He’s nice. And I am on vacation,” she whined.
“We’re sharing a fucking room, Maz!”
She sighed and threw up her arms. “Okay, Rain. Okay. I’ll kick him out. But thanks. Thanks, sis, for your understanding.”
Oh no she didn’t.
Dammit. I always caved with her.
“Fine,” I said, poking my finger in her chest, “you’re gonna owe me for this. I’ll give you one hour. That’s all. Do whatever you have to do and get rid of him.”
I grabbed my shoes and purse and split, slamming the bedroom door, the guy calling after me, “Hey! Where you going? Geez, so uptight.”
As I headed for the elevators, I also heard the security latch lock from the inside of the room.
Assholes.
If they weren’t done in an hour, the shit would hit the fan.
But I wasn’t going to share all this with Handsome Elevator Man, even if he had pointed out I was having a less-than-perfect night. Actually, morning.
I sighed as the elevator neared the lobby level, and then—I don’t know what came over me—I turned to him. “Hey, I was thinking of getting a drink.”
He probably thought I was a loser for getting a wild hair about alcohol at that hour. Whatever.
A weird guy tagged behind him, and cripes was he bad news—looking me up and down like he’d never seen a freaking woman before.
With a loud ding, the elevator doors finally opened to the lobby, where you would have thought it was the middle of the day with the buzz of activity going on. The slot machines were clanging, bachelorette partygoers were stumbling, and the cleaning crew looked bedraggled and miserable.
I looked up at the cute guy and realized I didn’t want him to leave. Why couldn’t my sister have brought someone like him back to the room? Not that I would have gone for a threesome even with him—that’s not my jam—but I would have understood her decision a little better.
Maybe.
“So what are you guys doing in town?” I asked brightly. Anything to keep the cute one around.
He glanced at his companion. Such an odd couple they made—he was so elegant and gorgeous and the other was sad and tacky.
“I live here in Vegas,” he said. “I was just… saying hello to some friends.”
Saying hi to friends at three a.m.? Okay, Vegas was weirder than I thought.
“What about you?” he asked.
Of course that question was eventually going to make its way to me. It was only fair.
“I’m here from LA for the weekend with my sister, attending a birthday party for one of our friends.”
I didn’t add that it would be the last time I would ever share a room with my sister, or even come to Vegas. Everyone and their mother wanted to party here, where they could cut loose and do shit they’d never consider pulling closer to home.
Like pick up Uber drivers.
The last time I’d been dragged to Vegas, it had been for a friend’s divorce party. I’d practically had to sleep in the hallway, that’s how busy my roommate was with her new male friend.
Of course, my issue would have been solved, at least partially, by getting my own room. I could easily afford it. Which was part of my problem. I actually could easily afford most anything I wanted, to be honest, thanks to my dad’s successful shipping business.
But I didn’t want anyone to know that. It was my dirty secret, and I spent a lot of energy hiding it. I was an aspiring artist, and if anyone knew my family was loaded, they’d conclude I was a dilettante, or worse, a hack hobbyist whose parents were buying my way into prestigious galleries and the like.
I couldn’t risk it.
It had not taken me long to witness this bias, having overheard my gossipy art school friends talk about another student in our classes.
“That girl, Evan. No talent at all. But she’ll do fine, thanks to her family money.”
The irony was that Evan was one of the most talented oil painters in our class. Money had nothing to do with her talent. But people make their crappy assumptions, especially in the ultra-competitive world of fine art.
So when I had weekends away with friends, even if my sister joined us, we shared rooms like all the thrifty girls did. No need to show off our shit.
“So, are you having fun so far?” Handsome Guy asked, his weaselly friend one step behind him.
What was that all about?
“Uh, yes. Sure,” I forced myself to say.
Yeah, if fun was having your sister do some stranger in your room when you were so tired you wanted to cry. Good times.
He smiled and nodded, and damn if the dimples I’d spotted in the elevator didn’t spring to life and scream look how cute I am! as if they needed pointing out to begin with.
Seriously, he was tall, so tall that in my bare feet I had to take a step back and look up at him. He had tousled dark hair—messy without trying too hard—which had always been my kryptonite, and heavy brows, an impeccable balance to his perfect lips.
Which, by the way, he had just licked.
Down girl.
He tilted his head. “You don’t sound very convincing. I hate to hear of people not having fun in Vegas. If you don’t, you might not come back. We need return customers.” He laughed again.
Good-looking and a sense of humor? Sign me up.
But was he smart? I only did smart.
I swung my shoes and purse nervously, and made my offer again. “Hey, why don’t you guys come get a drink with me at the Rotunda bar over here? My treat.” I took a step in the bar’s direction, thinking they’d follow.
What was the harm in a little company? I didn’t particularly like drinking alone, and had to kill some time while my sister boinked her Uber boyfriend.
There would be no more getting kicked out of hotel rooms. I’d reached my lifetime limit. I needed my sleep. And why couldn’t she have gone back to the guy’s place, anyway?
Wait a minute. That would not have been good. If she’d done that, I’d have had no idea where she’d gone. And I was the older sister. I had to keep tabs on the girl. As the family baby, she was not exactly known for practical or responsible decisions.
I bent to put my shoes on and my feet screamed in pain as if they were telling me they were off-duty for the night—no more heels, Rain. Please?
But I strapped the bad boys back on so I didn’t look like a total hick. Walking around a hotel barefoot was not the classiest—or most sanitary—thing a girl could do.
And thanks to my shoes, my height instantly jumped a good three inches, leaving my new friend and me closer to eye-to-eye level. His unfortunate friend, however, was more shrimpy than ever.
“C’mon,” I said, gesturing toward the bar. “Join me. I’m buyin’.”
He looked at his companion and shook his head. “We need to head out.”
Well crap.
I looked at my watch. “All right, then. It is awfully late, isn’t it? You gentlemen have a nice evening. Or should I say a nice morning?” I dropped my head back, laughing, and headed over to the circular bar in the middle of the casino floor.
* * *
