Deal Makers (Dealing with Love 3)

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHARLEE

“What are we doing here, Drew?”

He watches the ball spin on the roulette table before facing me again. “I want to make a deal.”

I hiccup. Damn, the liquor is really getting to me. “What kind of deal?”

Drew grabs my hands. “Look, I know this may seem crazy, but the couple we just met really got me thinking. I think they were in that pod with us for a reason. I think we were supposed to meet them. To hear their story.”

I blink rapidly, trying to process his words. “Why?”

His big hands cup my cheeks, prodding me to look up at him. “I think we should spin the wheel. If it lands on red, we get married.”

“What?” I sputter.

“I’m serious,” he says. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since the day we met, Charlee. I haven’t wanted another woman since you walked into my life. I know we haven’t known each other long, but this...” He gestures between us. “Feels right. I swear on my nuts that I’ve never felt the kind of connection that you and I have before. And I don’t want to give that up.”

I giggle, because my mind just took a trip down the gutter. “Drew, I’ve been trying to give it up since the day we met but you weren’t taking.”

He laughs before placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Honey, trust me, I’ve wanted to. Fuck, I’ve wanted to.”

“What about your stupid Bro Code thing?”

He thinks about it for a few seconds. “I’m in too deep, Charlee.”

I snicker. “That’s what she said.”

Drew laughs. “Babe, that statement right there just proves how perfect we are together. What do you say?”

My cheeks warm as I bite my lip, thinking about it. It doesn’t take long before I’m nodding my head frantically. “Deal.”

He gets the most beautiful smile on his face right before pulling me into his arms and swinging me around. When he sets me down, Drew pulls a bill out of his wallet, placing his bet on the table marker.

We watch as the little black ball spins round and round. It seems like it takes forever before it slows. I grab Drew’s hand and hold my breath as the ball skips over the last few tiles before coming to a stop.

“Red twenty-five!” the dealer shouts. “Red twenty-five!”

Holy shit.

It landed on red.

Drew and I look at each other, with equal parts excitement and wonder. Are we really going to do this?

He squeezes my hand with a soft smile. “Let’s get another drink for the road and go find a preacher man named Elvis.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Back to Seattle...

DREW

Man, I’ve never wanted to be a sperm whale so much in my entire life. I saw a documentary once that said those fuckers could hold their breath for like, ninety minutes. The film didn’t explain why they’re called sperm whales so I had to google that shit because I was way too curious. Apparently, it’s a shortened version of spermaceti whale. The spermaceti is an organ that’s unique to the breed, and it secretes a white substance that whalers mistook for jizz. So in actuality, a sperm whale is in fact, named after baby batter. Now you know.

Why the fuck am I blabbering about marine mammals, you ask?

Because Charlee is sitting right next to me on the ride home. And I may not remember everything that happened last night, but my body sure does. More specifically my dick, who’s begging for a repeat as I breathe in her sugary smell. Hence, why being able to hold my breath for an extended period of time would be helpful right about now.