Page 5 of Don't Bet On It
“I’m so sorry.” I reached out to steady her, making sure she didn’t go down. Long dark hair flew in every direction. Serverswere supposed to wear their hair up, so I was thrown. When petulant blue eyes turned in my direction, I felt as if I was being hurled into a wall. I, unfortunately, recognized those eyes.
“Crap” was all I managed to say as I released her.
Tallulah wasn’t yet steady on her feet, so she fell into the hallway wall. Her eyes were dark pits of annoyance as they locked with mine. “Watch where you’re going,” she barked, straightening. “Geez Louise!”
I pressed my lips together, caught between amusement and annoyance. Tallulah had always thrown around ancient sayings even back when we knew each other in high school. That was a long time ago—almost fifteen years, in fact—and I held my breath as I waited to see if she would recognize me.
Please don’t recognize me.I wasn’t that lucky, however.
“Ronan?” Tallulah straightened, her hand immediately flying to her hair. “Ronan Hawthorne?”
I considered not responding and letting her believe she’d made a mistake.
“Where… What… You…” She had questions, obviously, but didn’t seem to know where to start.
I decided to play it coy. “I’m sorry.” My affect was flat and stiff. “I didn’t see you there.”
“You didn’t see me?” Tallulah’s eyes scanned the floor. She was no longer looking at me. This was my chance to escape. I didn’t, though. Instead, I studied her.
The years had been kind. Tallulah had always been beautiful. Even when we were in middle school, she’d been the rock star of Roy W. Martin Middle School, the only girl to have an absolutely perfect puberty. Unlike the other girls, she never went through the awkward phase that plagued so many other kids. Her mother, of course, had been a showgirl turned cocktail waitress. She was beautiful too. She was also the type of woman none of the other mothers at the school liked because she was gorgeous… and single. Everybody assumed that Sharon Jackson was out to snag their husbands. In hindsight, I realized that must have been alienating for Tallulah. Back then I’d never considered it.
Looking at Tallulah now, it was obvious she’d gotten her mother’s looks. Although Sharon’s blonde hair came from a bottle—even I was alert enough to register that at the age of thirteen—Tallulah opted to embrace her natural dark hair, which was offset by bright blue eyes. Quite frankly, she was stunning.
She was also dangerous. She was only one of a handful of people who could recognize me … and understand the importance of what she was seeing.
“Hey!” Tallulah snapped her fingers in front of my face to draw me out of my reverie, something I found annoying, which was good because it allowed me to forget how beautiful she was. “Are you even paying attention?”
I scowled at her. “I didn’t hear what you said.”
“You ran into me.” Her hands landed on her hips. “I think you owe me an apology.”
“I’m sorry.” My response was automatic. I was sorry, though. I hadn’t meant to knock her into a wall. “I should be going.” I turned to leave, but apparently, that wasn’t in the cards.
“Oh, no way.” She grabbed my forearm and spun me back around, her eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here?”
I was the picture of innocence. “I work here.”
“Yeah, I do too.” She gestured to her uniform. The black shorts were snug and tight. The top was also formfitting and cut low, allowing for an interesting glimpse of cleavage. Her shoulders were bare, and her heels were high. “Obviously. Why do you work here, though?”
“Um, they were hiring.” I’d yet to acknowledge that I knew her. Had she picked up on that yet? Hmm. Maybe I could usethat to my advantage. “Do you have a problem with me working here?”
“I don’t have a problem with anything you do.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t even think of you.”
“Okay.” I turned to leave again.Please let me go this time.Tallulah didn’t do anything that people wanted her to do, however. I remembered that well.
“Ronan,” she sang out my name as if she was playing a creepy game of hide-and-seek. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry.” I purposely blanked my face. “Do I know you?”
There was a moment of uncertainty, her gaze dropping. What was that about? Then she recovered. “Are you trying to be sly?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Are you seriously pretending you don’t know who I am?” Was that sadness reflecting back from her eyes, or was it something else? For a moment, I felt guilty. Then her eyes narrowed. “Or are you playing a part because you’re here when you shouldn’t be here?”
I adopted an expression of innocence. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be here?”
“Um, how about because you’re richer than Midas and your father owns a rival casino?”
