Page 29 of Gamble (Black Light #38)

REAGAN

R eagan stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror attached to her bedroom door, smoothing her hands down the sides of the emerald-green dress she’d tried on for the third time.

The color brought out her eyes, the cut flattered her figure, and the fabric felt like silk against her skin—but was it too much for a first official date?

Or not enough for a man who’d already seen her naked?

The memory of Elijah’s hands on her body sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the apartment’s air conditioning.

“Stop overthinking it,” she muttered to her reflection. “It’s just dinner.”

Except it wasn’t just dinner, and they both knew it.

This was their chance to see if what had happened between them in Vegas could translate to real life in Los Angeles.

This was her chance to find out if a man like Elijah Keaton could actually be interested in more than just a weekend fling with someone like her.

“Are you talking to yourself in there, or have you finally lost your mind?” Meena’s voice carried through the cracked-open bedroom door, followed by a soft knock.

“Come in,” Reagan called, grateful for the distraction from her spiraling thoughts.

Meena pushed open the door, took one look at Reagan in the green dress, and whistled low. “Holy shit, you look amazing. Elijah’s going to swallow his tongue when he sees you.”

“You think it’s too much?” Reagan turned back to the mirror, second-guessing herself again.

“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect. Classy but sexy, sophisticated but not trying too hard.

” Meena flopped down on Reagan’s bed, grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“Speaking of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, the flowers he sent yesterday are still making the entire apartment smell like a garden center.”

Reagan felt her cheeks warm at the mention of the flowers. Two dozen white roses with a simple card that read: Looking forward to Friday. - E. The gesture had been so unexpected, romantic, that she’d teared up when the delivery man handed them to her.

“They’re beautiful,” she said, trying for casual and failing.

“Beautiful is an understatement. They’re the kind of flowers a man sends when he’s serious about a woman.” Meena’s expression grew more thoughtful. “You know, I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Happy. Genuinely, radiantly happy. Not that fake smile you used to put on when Tristan would cancel plans or show up late. This feels different.”

Reagan sank onto the bed next to her best friend, needing to voice the fears that had been churning in her stomach all week.

“It feels different to me too, but what if Vegas was just… an anomaly? What if we have nothing in common in real life? What if he realizes I’m not as interesting as he thought I was when we were caught up in all that desert magic?”

Meena gave her the look—the one that said she was about to dispense some tough love whether or not Reagan wanted it.

“First, you’ve been texting every day since he dropped you at home, right? And didn’t you tell me you two stayed up until like three in the morning talking on Wednesday night?”

Reagan nodded, remembering that conversation with a warmth that spread through her chest. They’d started texting around nine, just checking in about how their days had gone, and somehow ended up having a three-hour phone conversation that had ranged from childhood memories to travel dreams to favorite books.

She’d fallen asleep with her phone still pressed to her ear, the sound of his low laughter the last thing she remembered.

“And second,” Meena continued, “have you looked in a mirror? You’re gorgeous, smart, funny, and you have a career you’re passionate about. Any man would be lucky to have you, including some sexy older guy who clearly already knows a good thing when he sees it.”

“He’s not that much older,” Reagan protested.

“You realize you sent me a picture of his driver’s license, right? I can do the math,” Meena’s eyebrows rose as she teased her roommate.

“Twenty years isn’t that bad, right?” Reagan mumbled, trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince her good friend.

“I admit, I wish it wasn’t such a big age gap, but…” Meena’s eyes got serious with worry for her friend. “Reagan, please tell me he doesn’t already have kids your age or worse—a wife.”

“He doesn’t have any kids,” Reagan answered before adding, “And he was married once, but that was twenty years ago, and they divorced after just a few years together.”

“Okay, that’s good, I guess. Still…” Meena studied her friend’s face. “Are you sure you’re ready for whatever complications might come with dating someone that much older? I mean, what do your parents think about this?”

A tinge of guilt invaded her excitement.

“My parents don’t know about him yet,” Reagan admitted, quickly adding, “It was hard enough I had to tell them about yet another breakup. I didn’t want to then have to then admit I met someone else the same day I broke up with Tristan.

Yes, I know there might be challenges. But Meena…

” She paused, trying to find the right words.

“I’ve never felt the way I feel when I’m with Elijah.

He makes me feel… seen. Important. Like I matter. ”

“Of course you matter!” her friend agreed before asking, “Tristan never made you feel that way?”

Reagan shook her head. “With Tristan, I always felt like I was trying to fit into his life, molding myself into what he wanted me to be. With Elijah, I feel like he sees who I really am and likes me exactly as I am.”

“Well, he likes you well enough to send flowers and call you every day,” Meena pointed out with a grin.

“We don’t call every day,” Reagan corrected. “We text every day. The phone call was just Wednesday night.”

“Uh-huh. And what did you two talk about for three hours that was so fascinating?”

Reagan felt her cheeks heating again as she remembered. “Everything. His childhood in Texas, my college years, places we want to travel, books we love. He’s even read some of the same romance novels I have, can you believe that?”

“Wait, what?” Meena’s eyebrows shot up. “Your mysterious older man reads romance novels?”

“Some of them. He said he started reading them to better understand what women want from relationships.” Reagan’s voice went soft. “He’s… different, Meena. Thoughtful in ways I didn’t expect.”

“Different how?”

Reagan struggled to find the words that would adequately describe Elijah Keaton.

She was attracted to so much more than his handsome face and sexy body.

How could she explain the way he took charge of situations with effortless confidence?

How could she describe the dark edge she’d glimpsed in Vegas without sounding like she’d lost her mind?

“He’s just… more,” she finally said. “More confident, more experienced, more intense. When he looks at me, I feel like he’s seeing parts of me I didn’t even know existed.”

Meena’s expression grew more serious. “Reagan, you’re glowing right now just talking about him. I haven’t seen you this excited about a man since… well, ever. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

She stood up and walked to Reagan’s closet, rifling through the hangers until she found what she was looking for—a pair of strappy black heels that would add just enough height to make Reagan’s legs look endless.

“You’re going to wear these shoes with that gorgeous dress, and you’re going to do that thing with your hair where you curl it just enough to make it look effortlessly perfect, and you’re going to go on this date with confidence.

Because you, Reagan Murphy, are a catch.

And I’m thrilled because it sounds like this Elijah guy is smart enough to see that. ”

Reagan slipped on the heels, feeling more confident as she gained two inches of height. “What if he’s just being nice? What if Vegas was just a vacation fling for him?”

“Then you’ll find out tonight, and you’ll deal with it like the strong, independent woman you are,” Meena said. “But Reagan? I don’t think that’s what this is. Men don’t send flowers and text every day for vacation flings. They do that when they’re falling.”

The word hung in the air between them, loaded with possibility and promise. Falling. Was that what this was? This constant flutter in her stomach when her phone buzzed with his messages, this way her heart raced when she thought about seeing him again?

“What if I’m falling too fast?” Reagan whispered.

Meena’s expression softened. “Then you’re falling, and you have to trust Elijah to catch you. And that’s scary as hell, but it’s also wonderful. Just… be careful, okay? I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I will be,” Reagan promised, though she wasn’t sure what being careful would look like with Elijah Keaton.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and both women looked at it like it might explode.

“Is that him?” Meena asked.

Reagan picked up the phone, her heart skipping when she saw Elijah’s name on the screen.

Looking forward to tonight. I’ll be there at seven. - E

Simple, direct, and somehow incredibly sexy. Just like the man himself.

She typed back: Me too. See you soon.

“Okay,” Meena said, clapping her hands together. “Hair, makeup, and then you’re ready to see what happens next in this little romance novel you’re living.”

As Reagan settled at her vanity to put the finishing touches on her makeup, she caught sight of the white roses in their vase on her dresser. Twenty-four perfect blooms that smelled like hope and possibility.

Maybe Meena was right. Maybe this was what falling felt like.

And maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk.