Page 1

Chapter 1

Cyn

I grimace at my reflection in the casino bathroom mirror. Bloodshot eyes. Smudged mascara. Disheveled hair.

"God, I look like I've been through a wind tunnel," I mutter, reaching for a paper towel.

I dab at my face, willing away the fatigue after my long flight in the middle seat. Damn, these bright fluorescent lights are unforgiving.

"Come on, Lockhart. Pull it together."

Fishing in my clutch, I find my favorite lip gloss. The familiar strawberry scent is comforting as I swipe it on.

"That's better," I say, smacking my lips. "Sort of."

I smooth back my blonde waves, tucking a few strands behind my ear. I'd had to take a later flight than the rest of my friends for Sophie’s bachelorette weekend in Vegas. I'd come straight from the airport to the Excalibur.

"Please don't let them want to party all night," I whisper to myself, gathering my things.

The thought of celebrating my best friend's upcoming nuptials fills me with warmth, but exhaustion tugs at my limbs.

Squaring my shoulders, I stride out of the restroom. The cacophony of slot machines immediately assaults my senses.

I scan the sea of bodies looking for Sophie and the other girls, but they are nowhere to be seen. The growing feeling of panic flutters in my chest.

"Okay, don't freak out," I tell myself. "Just call them."

I dig around in my purse for my phone, but it’s not there. My stomach drops.

"No, no, no," I mutter, rifling through my purse. "This can't be happening."

I spin on my heel, preparing to race back to the bathroom. Just as I do that, my stiletto catches on the plush carpet and snaps clean off.

You’ve got to be kidding me right now.

I rip both my shoes off my feet since I have no other choice and practically sprint back into the bathroom.

When I get there, I frantically look for my phone. I glance at the countertop where I washed up. Nothing. I look in the stall where I peed. Nothing. I look in every stall that is open just in case. Nothing.

"This is a nightmare," I groan, slumping against the wall.

How am I going to find my friends if I don’t have a phone? Where are we even staying tonight? I'd been so caught up in just getting to the casino, I had forgotten to get hotel details.

Heading barefoot to the lost and found while trying to avoid gross stuff on the floor, desperation claws at my throat.

"Hi, um, has anyone turned in an iPhone?" I ask the attendant, my voice trembling.

The disheveled man tears his eyes away from his own phone and shakes his shaggy head. "Sorry. You’re out of luck. Maybe check again later."

My shoulders slump. "Thanks anyway."

I gingerly walk away, mind racing. What now?

The casino traffic has picked up and there are so many people here now that I can barely walk around looking for my friends.

I scan the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sophie’s red dress or hear her unmistakable laugh. Nothing.

"Come on, Cyn, think," I mutter to myself. "Where would they go?"

My stomach growls, reminding me we were supposed to grab dinner soon. But which restaurant? We hadn't decided yet when I went off to find the bathroom.

A guy bumps into me, nearly knocking me over. "Watch it!" I snap.

The guy looks at me with an unsteady gaze and mumbles, “Sorry darlin’. But you shoulda been watching where you’re going.” He weaves slightly with a stupid half-smile on his lips, and I realize he’s sloppy drunk.

I have no time for this. I turn to walk away but I feel a hand around my waist. What the fuck?

“Are you looking for someone, baby? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be roaming around by yourself, you know.”

I whip around with fury in my eyes and sloppy drunk guy takes a quick step back. “Get your hands off of me!”

“Alright, alright, I was just trying to be nice…geez. I guess that’s what a guy gets for trying.”

I storm off as quickly as I can, feeling completely ridiculous in bare feet. I don’t want to even think about what is on the floors and now all over the bottom of my feet. Could this night get any worse?

I feel a cold liquid running down the back of my dress and I realize, yes, it actually can get worse. Much worse actually.

I whip around expecting to see the drunk guy again but instead I see a mountain of a man with a large beer in his hand. Beer that is also now making its way down my back.

He stands there looking down at me, eyebrows raised. "Sorry, I was pushed from behind...can I help you find a napkin or something to wipe up the mess?”

I feel like I’m going to cry and I’m guessing I look as frazzled as I feel. The man’s face morphs into surprised concern.

“Are you okay?" he asks. “I really am sorry.”

I shake my head. "Lost my friends, lost my phone, broke my heel off. I'm great. Perfect actually."

He frowns sympathetically. "That's rough. Is there anything I can do to help?"

For a moment, I consider asking to use his phone, but I realize I have no idea what any of my friends’ phone numbers are. Shit. "Thanks, but I've got this."

His eyes narrow for a moment as if he’s considering how far to push it. “How about I buy you some dinner and we can strategize what to do with your situation?”

I hesitate. I am starving and it would be nice to sit down somewhere and try to regroup. I also realize that I have no way to pay for food or some new shoes without my phone. Stupid me for using my phone to pay for everything these days. I make a mental note to start carrying a credit card again after all of this is over.

I eye the man warily, weighing my options. He doesn’t look like a serial killer, so I’ve got that going for me. He’s actually very handsome with salt-and-pepper hair and gorgeous brown eyes that are warm and full of concern. Definitely older, but in a super-hot kind of way that makes me gulp involuntarily.

He's standing there patiently, studying my face as if trying to predict my next move.

My stomach growls again, louder this time.

"Okay," I concede. "But just dinner. Then I really need to find my friends."

He nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "Of course. I'm Garrett, by the way."

"Cyn," I reply, falling into step beside him. “Short for Cynical. I mean Cynthia.”

He chuckles as we weave through the sea of slot machines and blackjack tables, the constant ding-ding-ding of both winners and losers echoing in my ears. The smell of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume surrounds us.

"Any preference?" Garrett asks, gesturing to the array of restaurants lining the casino floor.

I scan the options, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sophie's red dress or Megan's bleached blonde hair. No such luck.

"That steakhouse looks good," I say, pointing to a dimly lit establishment with rich mahogany accents.

Garrett nods approvingly. "Great choice. A filet and a bourbon are exactly what I need."

As we enter, the din of the casino fades away, replaced by the soft clink of cutlery and murmur of conversation. The hostess raises an eyebrow at my bare feet but says nothing as she leads us to a cozy booth in the corner.

I grab the cloth napkin on the table and reach around to dab at my back trying to mop up some of the beer. I then sink into the plush leather seat, grateful to be off my feet. Garrett slides in across from me, his broad shoulders filling the space. Damn, this guy is enormous.

The waiter approaches, handing us menus. I scan the options, my stomach growling again.

"You really are hungry, huh?" Garrett chuckles.

I nod, sheepish. "Starving. I haven't eaten since...God, I don't even know."

"Order whatever you want," he says, waving his hand. "My treat."

I hesitate, not wanting to take advantage. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Consider it my apology for dousing you in beer."

I can't help but laugh. "Fair enough."

As we peruse the menu, I keep glancing around the restaurant, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sophie or the other girls.

"Still no sign of your friends?" Garrett asks, following my gaze.

I shake my head. "No. I'm starting to worry I’m not going to find them."

"I'm sure you will," he reassures me. "Probably went to dinner and will come back to find you when they get no response to their texts."

The waiter returns and we place our orders. Garrett opts for the filet, medium rare, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes. I choose the salmon with roasted vegetables.

"So," Garrett says, leaning back in his seat. "What brings you to Vegas? Girls weekend?"

I grin. "Bachelorette party, actually. My best friend Sophie is getting married next month."

Garrett's eyes light up. "Ah, a bachelorette party. That explains the chaos. I hope you're having fun despite the...setbacks."

I roll my eyes. "I really just got here but it's been an adventure so far, that's for sure."

“I just can’t believe I lost my phone. I’ve never done that before. I’m always so careful with it. These things are just our lifelines these days, you know?”

“So true. I’ve never lost mine, knock on wood,” he raps his thick knuckles on the table. “But I’ve had plenty of friends lose them, especially somewhere like Vegas where there’s lots of booze and a ton of distractions.”

“Alcohol isn’t even really the issue for me. I’ve not been here that long and have barely even had anything to drink so far.”

Garrett raises his eyebrows. “You’re definitely in the minority then. I would say 95% of people here are totally wasted. Just par for the course here.”

Just then our drinks arrive—a bourbon for Garrett and a much-needed glass of white wine for me. I take a long sip, savoring the crisp taste.

"So, Garrett," I say, setting down my glass. "What brings you to Vegas? Business or pleasure?"

He grimaces slightly. "A bit of both, I suppose. I'm here for a hockey conference."

My eyebrows shoot up. "That's awesome," I gush. "I love hockey.” I leave out the fact that I work for the Chicago Blades as a physical therapist.

Now it's Garrett's turn to look surprised. "No kidding?”

I nod enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, I'm a huge fan. Been following the Blackhawks since I was a kid."

Garrett's eyes light up. "The Hawks, huh? They've had a tough season so far."

"Don't remind me," I groan, taking another sip of wine. "But hey, at least we're not the Coyotes."

Garrett laughs, a deep, rich sound that sends a shiver down my spine. "True enough. Though I have to say, I'm impressed with how the Coyotes are doing in only their sixth season."

"It's pretty remarkable," I agree. "They could definitely be doing a lot worse. Those last couple of trades they got made a big difference."

We launch into an animated discussion about the current NHL standings. Garrett's knowledge is encyclopedic, rattling off stats and player names with ease.

"You really know your stuff," I say, impressed.

He shrugs modestly. "I've been around the sport a long time.”

"What do you think about the Bruins' strategy this season? They're converting at an insane rate," I say, leaning forward.

Garrett nods, his eyes lighting up. "It's impressive. Their puck movement is crisp, and Lovitt’s one-timer from the left circle is practically unstoppable. But I'm more intrigued by the Oilers' approach."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"They've been running this clever 1-3-1 formation," Garrett explains, using the salt and pepper shakers to demonstrate. "Davidson quarterbacking from the half-wall, Slovich in the bumper position. It's giving penalty kills fits."

I nod enthusiastically. "I've noticed that! And the way they use Barrett at the point...his ability to walk the blue line and find shooting lanes is incredible."

Garrett's eyes widen slightly, clearly impressed by my knowledge. "Exactly. It's not just about having talented players, it's how you deploy them."

“And some of these players…they are so full of themselves, you know? They act like just because they’re pro hockey players they’re some kind of gods or something.”

A strange look crosses his face, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far.

He changes the subject, and we dive deeper into the nuances of special teams play, dissecting the strategies of various teams around the league. Garrett's insights are razor-sharp, breaking down complex systems with ease.

Just then, the waiter reappears with our food, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. I can feel this glass of wine going straight to my head and I know I need to keep my wits about me.

As soon as I finish my food, I’ve got to come up with a plan to find my friends and fast. Otherwise, I’m going to be sleeping on an uncomfortable chair all night in this incredibly loud casino.