Locked Heart (Cash Me Outside 1)

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Challenge accepted. Now, let’s go get this over with.” He plants a quick kiss to my lips and then grabs my collar and drags me out of my room.

Despite saying he’s going to rush it, we take our time making our way through the casino next to the Catalina. As an employee, I’m not allowed to gamble at my own casino.

We play blackjack, lose some money in the slots, and play a few rounds of roulette. There’s only one game we lose in five seconds flat.

“Okay, so craps is … crappy. Moving on.” Cash walks off.

I laugh.

No one has recognized him yet, which I’m thankful for. A few have done a double take, but considering he doesn’t have a huge entourage, isn’t in any VIP or high-rollers’ rooms, I assume people think he’s a lookalike or an impersonator, or maybe they can’t place him without the rest of the band.

He’s definitely famous, but not so famous he can’t walk down the street without being stopped.

“Poker tables?” he asks.

That’s cute. “You do know a game of poker takes hours, right?”

Cash screws up his face. “That’s out. Didn’t you say something about a gay bar?” He steps closer to me. “I’m ready to grind on a dance floor until you’re so hard you’ll take me back to your room and we won’t leave for four days.”

I take his hand. “This way.”

There’s an exit that leads to the walkway back across the street to the Catalina.

Cash wastes no time trying to pull me straight to the dance floor, but I tug on his hand.

“Drink?” I yell over the music.

He hesitates.

“We’re supposed to be doing Vegas right.”

“We can have a couple and dance them off. I don’t want us to be drunk when I do you right.” He’s ridiculous but so utterly Cash.

I crook my finger at him to come closer, and I capture his mouth with mine.

The beat of the music thrums around us, people ignore us as they bump by, but I keep kissing my teenage dream and memorize this fleeting moment while holding on for as long as I can.

One shot turns into two. Two turns into four. And then Mr. Sober Rock Star drags a tipsy me out onto the dance floor.

I sway.

“Dude, you can’t be drunk already. You used to be a bartender.”

“Like, two years ago. I haven’t drunk much since.”

“I’ll just have to pull you close and hold you up, my little lightweight.”

“Oh no, how horrible for me!” I’m not that drunk, but that won’t stop me from leaning into him.

We’re in our own little Cashton and Sherlock bubble, and I never want to leave it.

But that’s not reality. That’s not our reality.

My reality catches my eye. Shannon stands by the side of the dance floor with a wide smile on their face.

Ah, shit.

They take a step toward me, and I freeze. I’m not ready for them to meet. I’m not ready to tell Cash the truth.

I lean in next to Cash’s ear. “I’ll be right back. Gotta take care of something.”

He looks up at me all glassy-eyed and happy. “Okay.”

Before I can walk away, Cash touches his lips to mine. It’s awkward and weird, but only because I’m letting it be.

Shannon and I are one hundred percent over, and even though I’ve seen Shannon with other people since we split and I’m okay with it, I feel weird flaunting something in front of them when it was ultimately my lack of interest in being in the marriage that was our downfall.

I pull away. “Back soon.”

I know he’s watching me as I walk away, but I’m going to make this quick.

“Hey.” I take Shannon’s arm and lead them away from the dance floor.

“What, I don’t even get to meet him? Ripped off.”

“Not … now.” Or ever.

“Oh. You haven’t told him about us.”

“We have four days together, Shan. That’s it. I’m not going to bring the mood down.”

A concern line forms above their brow.

“It’s fine. Is there really a perfect time to go into the whole divorce thing on a date?”

“Well, preferably before you have sex with them.”

My face falls.

“Holy shit, really? Go you.” They playfully shove me.

“We have ten years to catch up on and a limited time to do it. I don’t think introducing him to my ex will really let us have the best time together.”

They look disappointed, but they understand. “Just promise to introduce me one day.”

I huff a laugh. “Sure. Because, you know, I’m going to see him again after this week and everything.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a famous rock star. He tours the world, and I …” I’m just a numbers guy.

“You’re a wanderer too. Don’t tell me that you’re not. If we didn’t have to move back because of our visas, you know you’d still be over there slinging beers and making your way through countries and continents being free.”