Page 10 of Pucked In Vegas

I pull out my phone. "What's your number?"

She takes my phone, typing quickly before handing it back. I glance down and see she's entered her name as "Cassie" with a martini emoji.

"Cassie," I say, testing how it feels on my tongue. "I like it."

"Don't make me regret this, Jax," she says, gathering her things.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

I stand, offering my hand to help her up. When she takes it, the electric current runs between us again, and I know with absolute certainty that tonight is going to be unforgettable.

Chapter Three

Cassie

Istare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror of my apartment, the buzz of four—five?—martinis warming my blood and loosening my inhibitions.

The black dress I've pulled from my sad, almost bare, closet is nothing short of scandalous. It's a whisper of fabric that clings to every curve, with a neckline that plunges dangerously low and a hemline that barely qualifies as decent.

I've had it for months, and tonight, I finally get to wear it.

"This is your moment, Cassie," I tell my reflection, swiping on another layer of red lipstick. "You're a goddamn goddess. A hot, employable goddess." I pause, wobbling slightly in my stilettos. "Probably. Whatever."

My phone buzzes on the marble countertop.

Jax: Club Nova. VIP section. Dress code: Destroy me, baby.

I snort-laugh, nearly smudging my mascara.

Cassie:Challenge accepted, muscle man.

Another buzz.

Jax: Shit. Am I gonna survive this?

I grin at my reflection.

Cassie: Unlikely. Bring a defibrillator.

Jax: Perfect. Dying happy sounds like a solid plan.

I bite back a smile and set my phone down, heart thumping.

What evenisthis?

I don’t know much about Jax, other than the fact that he’s hot, mysterious, and somehow managed to get under my skin without telling me a damn thing about himself.

And that’s… kind of refreshing.

No job talk. No LinkedIn braggers. No “my ex was crazy” sob stories.

The martinis might have blurred the edges of my mind, but for now… I shake it off.

It's not important.

What's important is that for one night, I'm not Cassie Hawthorne, desperately out of work event planner and daughter of a big shot hockey CEO.

I'm just a woman in Vegas making questionable choices with a man who looks at me like I'm the jackpot.

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