Page 44 of The Little Black Book

Of course, Sam was telling the truth. He isn’t the type to lie to anyone, much less someone he considers to be a close friend. And honestly, his leaving is probably a good thing.

No next-morning awkward encounter.

No wondering whether I should kiss him, hug him, or give him a friendly handshake and thank him for a job well done.

Fuck.

I’m so fucking confused right now. I want to maintain our friendship, but how am I supposed to do that when I know I’m going to think about last night every time I see him? I’m going to have to fight the urge to lick him and claim him as mine every time another woman so much as glances in his direction.

But I can’t do that. He’snotmine.

And there’s only one way to guarantee I don’t make a fool of myself in front of him and act like a stage-five clinger. I have to fulfill my promise.

I have to help him find love. With someone else.

A girlfriend would redraw that line we crossed last night, and everything would go back to normal. And with Sam off the market, maybe I could move on and find someone for myself.

We’d still be friends, and all would be right in the world.

Giving myself a firm nod of approval, I pull my phone from my back pocket and pull up Sam’s number.

Me:Hope everything is okay at the casino. Let me know when you set up your next date, and I’ll be there with bells on. *winky face emoji*

My thumb hovers over the icon to send the text for a long moment. Everything within me is screaming to delete it. To tell Sam how I really feel and let the cards fall where they may.

And that’s why Ihaveto send it. I can’t put that pressure on him. If he doesn’t want more than friendship with me––and last night was a fluke, a one-time thing––then pouring out my heart would be the final nail in the coffin of our relationship.

I can’t lose him, so I take a deep breath and tap the icon to send the text.

There. It’s done, and now I can breathe easier.

So why does it feel like there’s no oxygen in the room?

Chapter18

God, Help Me

Sam

She can’t be fucking serious.

After getting a call from one of the night shift pit bosses atThe Black Hart,I’ve spent the last few hours scanning the security footage for proof of his claim––one of our new blackjack dealers was running a scam, making sure his buddy won hundreds of dollars of house money.

I had to call the cops, file a report, and fill out termination paperwork when I’d much rather still be snug and warm in Zoey’s bed with her naked body draped across me.

I’d just climbed into my own cold, empty bed when her text came through. I read it again, still unable to comprehend how she thinks I have any interest in going on more dates. I certainly don’t, unless said dates arewithher.

We can still be friends, right?

Her voice rings in my ears, filling me with just as much disappointment as I felt when she asked the question. We shared a fuckingreligiousexperience, and she obviously has no interest in a repeat performance. As far as she’s concerned, we scratched an itch, and it’s over. We should go right back to the way things were like it never happened.

Zoey:Hope everything is okay at the casino. Let me know when you set up your next date, and I’ll be there with bells on. *winky face emoji*

If that’s what she really wants…

I tap the screen and tap out a response.

Me:Will do.

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