Page 1 of Third Time Lucky

ASHER

Under the kaleidoscope glow of neon lights, Aaron and I weave our way through the labyrinthine casino, dodging tipsy tourists and high rollers alike.

The casino floor hums with the electric energy of high-stakes gambling, clinking glasses and lively chatter.

A cacophony of slot machines sing their siren song, while a group of women in the distance erupt in laughter.

Aaron – my little brother – with his devil-may-care grin, points them out. ‘Bachelorette party,’ he announces, his finger slicing through the air toward the group of giggling women. ‘Let’s invite ourselves, shall we?’

His eyes sparkle beneath the fluorescent glow of Las Vegas – a technicolor dreamscape where fortunes are won and lost in a heartbeat. His mischievous grin cuts through like a beacon, acting as both an adrenaline shot and a warning.

I follow him hesitantly. ‘Word of warning, if you make this a weekend I’ll regret, I’m never coming to Vegas with you again.’

As we enter the bar from the casino floor, opulent decor featuring rich velvet furnishings, shimmering chandeliers and eye-catching art installations greets us.

Everything in Vegas is over the top, and this place is no exception.

The bar’s lighting is dim and sultry, with a mix of luminous accents that reflect the vibrant energy that is Glitter Gulch.

The sound of music and lively chatter fill the air.

‘Says the guy who ended up with a busted lip and in jail the first time we came.’ Aaron says as he side-eyes me, cocking his head like he’s mister innocent.

It was my twenty-sixth birthday, and I only hit that guy first because he burst into the bathroom, already rearing back to beat the hell out of me.

That’s about my only defense – hit first so as not to be unexpectedly destroyed in a family bathroom that I was lured into by a beautiful woman.

Also, don’t go to Vegas with your twenty-one-year-old little brother – I’d say lesson learned but here we are again.

‘Asshole,’ I grumble, unsure if I’m talking about Aaron or the offender that ended up with no charges at all. ‘That could have been prevented had that woman said she was married before she invited me to the bathroom with her.’

He laughs heartily, slapping me on the back. ‘We’re in Vegas, man. No one tells the truth here. The entire goal of Sin City is to see what you can get away with – and you got caught.’

We may be brothers, but Aaron and I are as unalike as our parents.

He’s our dad. And I am the early version of our mom (the one who wasn’t terrorized by our father’s shenanigans).

We are opposites. But even with our differences, Aaron’s my best friend, co-worker, business partner, and the guy I spend pretty much every moment with.

I only regret it sometimes – mostly when we’re in Vegas or while he’s speaking.

As we reach the group of women, he stops talking. Probably because most are wearing very short dresses in varying shades of pink – each leaving little to the imagination of what may lie beneath – and it’s melting his mind.

Except for the girl in the middle: her outfit is stark white, with a long trailing see-through lace skirt open in the front and covering a shorter skirt underneath.

She’s dainty, her head just about shoulder level on my six-foot-two frame.

Her hair falls in silky waves, framing her face and cascading down her shoulders.

The rich, chocolate tones highlight her warm complexion.

Her eyes are large and expressive and an icy blue that sparkle like diamonds under the lights.

She’s beautiful – the prettiest one of the bunch – easy, and oddly familiar.

Most eyes are on Aaron, because out of the two of us, I’m not afraid to admit he’s the ‘looker.’ I’m no dog, but women naturally gravitate toward him based solely on his eye-candy looks.

To use words he’s previously spoken, ‘Zac Efron has nothing on me.’ He’s not entirely wrong, either – he’s got the ‘Zac in his bleach blond era’ likeness.

The dude has taken photos with fans and never corrected them; he looks so much like him.

His downfall is when he opens his mouth and lets his inner douchebag show. At that point, most women back away.

‘Oh my gosh,’ the woman in white says with urgency as she spots us.

‘Yes,’ Aaron says to her in his bedroom voice, nodding his head like a horny creep. ‘We are single, ladies…’

The woman furrows her dark eyebrows at his words, then looks back at me – a slightly tipsy smile on her face. She hands two shots of tequila – one in each French-tip manicured hand – to Aaron, who gladly accepts them.

‘Ash?’

I stop mid step – intending to leave Aaron to the women and head to the bar for my own drink – when my name leaves her lips.

I turn back, looking her up and down again.

Those blue eyes. Her small frame. The smile with one dimple showing in her cheek.

Holy shit – I do know this woman. This is Lucy Gray, all grown up. How in the hell did that happen?

‘Asher Wright? Of Portland Oregon?’ she continues since I’m lost for words, like she’s almost sure but not completely.

I’ve wondered about this woman for years, hoping her life got easier. And here she is getting married. Wow. That must mean she’s happy – and that’s all I ever hoped for.

‘Yeah!’ Aaron exclaims. ‘Damn, you’re good. Do me next,’ he requests, already having downed both tequila shots, and is now sipping a pretty drink he definitely did not order.

Lucy shakes her head, looking at him like he’s lost his ever-loving mind. Her gaze moves back to me, and the beauty gives me a familiar smile.

‘Lucy Gray,’ she says, planting a hand on her chest, only directing attention to her low-cut dress, which Aaron has certainly noticed. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot I existed?’ she teases.

Even cleavage can’t distract from what’s going through my head right now.

Forgetting this woman exists would be impossible.

We’ve got history. Some good, some absolutely terrible, most of it unforgettable.

We may have lost touch after high school as people do, but because of what we went through, I’ve never quit thinking about her.

Worrying about her. I just never thought I’d see her again.

Lucy dated my best friend, Kris, when we were in high school. We did some double dating. Caused some chaos. Drank underage. Snuck out of our houses to wander the city. But hell, this – never in a million years did I expect her to turn into this.

‘Luce?’

She nods. ‘What’re the chances?’ she asks, wrapping her arms around my neck.

Without hesitation, I hug her, lifting her off her feet and holding her tight. Every memory I’ve ever had with this girl comes racing back.

‘How are you?’ she asks as I set her back on her feet.

‘Eh,’ I mumble, stepping away from her and shoving my hands in my pockets. She’s caught me on one of those self-deprecating days where I’ve convinced myself my best days are over. ‘Turning thirty tomorrow. So?—’

‘He’s depressed,’ Aaron speaks for me, frowning dramatically and then tapping the side of his left eye like he’s pointing out a tear.

‘And he’s douchey,’ I say, shoving him an arm’s length away from me.

‘Thirty, flirty and thriving! That’s how you say it,’ Lucy remarks, lifting me up instead of beating me down. ‘You’re in your best years!’

I chuckle at her positivity. ‘Says the twenty-nine-year-old bride-to-be standing before me,’ I comment, looking her up and down. ‘Looks like you’re in your best years for sure. I had no idea you were getting married. Congratulations. When’s the big day?’

‘Tomorrow our Lucy becomes Mrs Kruzie, trophy wife,’ one of the women in pink says proudly, lifting her drink to cheer the most ridiculous name ever.

‘Lucy Kruzie?’ I ask, thankful Aaron is preoccupied with someone else. He would have a hay day with this.

She smirks, biting her bottom lip. ‘I’m not taking his name, obviously. I’m smarter than that.’

‘Good.’

‘Who cares about last names when your Prince Charming rides in?’ the woman who spoke for her previously says.

Wow. That’s big. ‘He’s your prince?’

‘My prince?’ she asks it as if she’s confused. ‘I du— well, he’s?—’

Another of the women overhears her stumbling over her answer and grabs Lucy’s left hand, flashing me a rock so big he either loves her an enormous amount or knows her family wouldn’t settle for a carat less.

‘What she means to say is she is his queen.’

Lucy blushes as I take her hand, inspecting the rock. ‘Looks as flawless as the woman wearing it.’

‘Stop,’ she says with a slight giggle, waving a hand my way and then admiring her ring. ‘You were always such a sweetheart.’

‘Not really, just telling the truth. So, you ran off to Vegas to get married and brought a dozen of your closest friends?’ I ask, glancing around at the women surrounding her.

‘Oh, no, everyone is here. You know my family, they spared no expense.’

‘I can imagine they wouldn’t.’

Honestly, I don’t know a lot about her family, but I do know her grandmother is beyond loaded. Yet Lucy never acted like a spoiled brat like some of the other rich kids I’ve met in my lifetime.

‘Anyway, back to why we’re here – old man turns thirty tomorrow and wants to lose his virginity,’ Aaron butts in, his arm now around a gorgeous blonde in pink. ‘Any of your ladies-in-waiting interested?’ He glances at the girl hanging off him. ‘Not you, sugar, you’re mine.’

She beams back at him.

‘Congratulations,’ I say to his top-choice woman. ‘You’ve just won the fuckboy lottery.’

‘Dude!’ Aaron moans as if he can argue it. ‘I’m trying to get you laid,’ he grumbles towards me under his breath.

I punch him playfully in the shoulder, causing him to grimace and rub at it.

‘Luce and I are old friends. We go way back.’

‘Waaay back,’ she says. She then furrows her brows. ‘Gosh, how long ago was it I last saw you?’

‘Twelve years,’ I remind her.