“Your commitment runs a bit beyond your job description. You’re so passionate… it’s almost as if you have feelings for him.” Cole lowered his voice as Bran and Carina made their way down the row of seats. “Wouldn’t you say?”
“No, I would not,” she spewed between her gritted teeth as her cheeks grew red hot.
“Whatever.” He waggled his eyebrows, still sporting that irritating grin. “Finn says he’s sorry he accused you of spying.”
Right on cue, Finn appeared at the far end of the row, wearing a sad puppy face, hands folded together in supplication under his chin. Stephanie covered her smile with her hand, and turned her head. “Fine,” she mumbled from the side of her mouth. “Tell Finn he’s forgiven, for now. But he’s on probation, and so are the two of you. One wrong move and…” She stretched her mouth and used her finger to mime slicing her neck, sending Cole and Jarrett into fits of laughter that had the surrounding audience members turning their heads.
Jarrett was the first to control his mirth. “Bran will be fine. We’re on the same side, you know. We all want what’s best for him.”
“Okay.” Her tension melted as she realized, for all their teasing, the guys truly cared about Bran. Surely they wouldn’t push him so far that he got hurt.
“And sometimes,” Cole leaned in to whisper, “we know what’s best for him, better than he does.”
The lights dimmed and the music began to play before Stephanie got a chance to ask him to explain that cryptic statement.
Chapter 9
Branson tapped the device in his ear. He hadn’t heard a peep out of Steph since sometime during lunch. Either it quit working, or she’d turned it off. Whatever the reason, he was irritated. Not that he needed her voice to prevent a panic attack. Truth be told, his anxiety had faded as the day progressed.
He enjoyed the show more than he expected, and was laughing and joking with his buddies as they returned to the limousine. Everyone seemed surprised when Bran suggested stopping at the Bellagio so Carina could watch the famous fountains.
As Bran leaned on the railing, listening to the classical music that accompanied the beginning of the water show, Finn edged beside him. “Stephanie seems captivated by the fountains.”
“Ah. Glad she likes it.” Bran kept his expression neutral, though Steph had been his major motivation for suggesting the show. “I assume Carina’s enjoying herself?”
“Ha! You can’t fool me, Bran. You could care less whether Carina likes it or not. However, I believe you can congratulate yourself for the rapturous expression on Stephanie’s face.”
“Humph,” he grunted, wishing he could see her face for himself. He’d read books describing rapture. Were her lips parted? Were her eyes glazed? Were her pupils dilated?
“I’m thinking you could find other ways to make her look rapturous, and it might be a lot more fun for both of you.”
As Finn let out a hearty chuckle, Bran swung his fist toward his stomach, but only caught the edge of his shirt. His missed punch only prodded Finn to laugh harder. Bran would find a way to get even, eventually. He smiled, remembering the practical jokes he and his buddies had exchanged over the years. Feeling comfortable and relaxed, he considered his friends might’ve been right about the ill effects of shutting himself off from the world.
Bran was even beginning to look forward to the casino event, though he didn’t relish the head-splitting battery of sounds that came with it. He’d tried ear plugs in the past, but then he was totally out of any conversations that took place inside the casino. Hopefully, Stephanie’s microphone trick would be the answer to that dilemma, especially if she stuck close and repeated the bits of dialogue that were drowned out by the commotion.
Though Bran had thought to blow his tournament money quickly and escape upstairs to his suite, a persistent inner voice now enticed him to stay and compete until the bitter end. And part of him wanted Stephanie to see him win.
The limo made slow progress down the strip, in stop-and-go traffic, while Carina’s high-pitched chatter continued, grating on his nerves. Some movie star had married some rock singer, and now they were getting a divorce. Blah, blah, blah.
Fortunately, his fiancée had never been a night owl. He fully expected she’d be asleep by midnight at the latest. Between the lulling vibration of the limousine and sheer boredom at Carina’s monologue, Bran had to fight against sleep, even on the short drive back to the hotel.
“Hey, Bran. Can you hear me?”
At last, Stephanie’s microphone was back on. He smiled and pointed upward with his left thumb in a motion he hoped was discreet enough to escape notice by the others. Steph was sitting somewhere on the opposite side.
“You seem to be fine without my help,” her soft voice continued. “Do you want the microphone off or on when we go into the casino tonight?”
He frowned and gave a thumbs down.
“You want it off?”
He shook his head and mouthed the word on.
“You want it on?”
He reversed his thumb, lifting it up in the air to be certain she understood.
“What are you doing, Bran?” Carina’s elbow jabbed in his ribs. “You’re not even paying attention, are you?”