Page 6

I nod, surprised by the question. After all, this man gives gambling addict vibes. He has to know his way around the place.Unless he’s so hooked, he barely leaves the tables.

“Sorry,” he excuses. “But I avoid casinos like the plague. Gambling, too, which makes all of this so much more fortuitous.”

His words surprise me, and I stop, staring at him long and hard. “You mean to tell me you’re not a regular patron of this place?”

“Not only am I not a regular patron. Apart from the occasional grocery store slot machine, I never gamble.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Then, why’d you start with Craps? That’s far from the easiest game to master.”

He shrugs. “I watched a few rounds and figured it out. And then lost my ass most of the night until you appeared.” He saysthe last part adoringly, his eyes grazing over me. “Aren’t you hot in that jacket, Esmeralda?”

I look down, seeing his point. “I guess I kind of am, although it was downright chilly when I got in this morning.”

“That’s the Nevada desert for you. Incinerate you with heat stroke during the day and freeze you to death at night.”

“Sounds pleasant.”

“Sarcasm, too? Something tells me you and I are going to get along just fine.”

Chapter Three

ESMERALDA

“How about we start at Starbucks for whatever fancy schmancy drink you want and then migrate over to the cafe?”

“Thank you.” He seems like the kind of man who likes to please his woman. Maybe it’ll make talking him out of fifty percent of his winnings and access to his ranch a tad easier.

“So, what are you? A soy latte kind of girl or maybe one of those matcha drink lovers like some of the wives of my ranch hands?”

“Nope, plain old Americano with cream and a little flavoring.”

“Well?” he asks, listening raptly. “What kind of flavoring? Or is it a secret recipe?’

“Two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of caramel. Oh, and make it a quad venti.”

“Quad venti? For a little thing like you?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not playing.”

I laugh. “A non-stop solo road trip from Oklahoma to Nevada will do that to you.”

He nods, leading me towards the counter. I open my mouth to order, but he beats me to it. “The lady would like a venti Americano … wait, what was it again?”

“A venti Americano with two pumps of vanilla, two pumps of caramel, and cream.”

“And for you, sir?”

“A venti black coffee with cream.”

“Your name?”

“Reese.”

“Like the river?”

“That’s it.”

“You can find us a table, Angel,” the cowboy drawls, noticing more people coming in.

I head to a spot in the back, looking for a modicum of privacy. The barista rings up the order, and Reese retrieves his wallet from his back pocket, lifting up his untucked shirt enough to give me impressive views of his round ass.My, my, my.