The Little Black Dress (Love in Las Vegas)

“You’ve lost your fucking mind, woman,” I say, and our waitress appears with a tray topped with six shot glasses filled with clear liquid.

Setting them on the table, she says, “From the gentleman in black at the bar.”

We all look over in the direction she nods. A man who looks to be in his forties wearing a black button-down shirt, dark jeans, and cowboy boots nods back at us. He’s handsome, with gray streaks near his temples and those rolled-up sleeves showing swirls of dark ink on his forearms.

I pick up one of the shot glasses and lift it in his direction before turning it up and pouring it down my throat. I gag when I realize it’s tequila––aka the devil––but manage to swallow it without embarrassing myself. I’ve already finished my cocktail, and I don’t have anything else to chase the shot with, so I shrug and pick up a second glass, downing it.

“He’s hot for an older dude,” Zoey says before taking her first shot.

“He doesn’t look that old,” Ava replies. “Mid-forties, maybe? That’s only ten years older than us.”

“How old is Jared?” Zoey asks, zeroing in on me.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

I pause and take a deep breath. The room is starting to spin a bit, and my tongue feels thick in my mouth.

“You should ask him,” Zoey says.

“And ask him if he growls during sex while you’re at it,” Ava adds with a laugh.

“God! Fine. I’ll ask him,” I say, heaving a labored sigh.

Tugging my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, I stare at it, narrowing my eyes in an attempt to focus on the names listed in my texting app. Finding Jared’s name, I stab a finger against it, smiling when the thread between us opens on my first try. Then I begin to type.

Me: DearMr. Hart, how old are u? And also, do u growl during sex? Sincerely, Sophie Jameson.

“There,” I say, turning the screen around to show the girls. “Happy now?”

They both stare intently at the screen for a moment, then look at each other before laughter bursts out of them. Zoey is holding her stomach as if it aches, and Ava is wiping tears from her eyes.

“What?” I ask when their laughter finally winds down.

“Did you seriously end the text with ‘Sincerely, Sophie Jameson?’” Ava asks with a chuckle.

“What’s wrong with that?” I ask, not seeing the problem.

“I love you, Sophie,” Zoey says, reaching out to squeeze my hand.

“Aw, I love you, too,” I say, feeling suddenly emotional. “I love you both so much.”

“Good lord, no more booze for you,” Ava grumbles, signaling toward our waitress and mouthing a request for some water.

“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t make it untrue,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.

“I know,” Ava says. “And we love you, too. But you’re starting to tilt sideways in your chair.”

I straighten myself with a triumphant grin just as my text alert on my phone chimes.

“Oh, what did he say?” Zoey asks.

“What did who say?”

“Jared. That’s him replying to your text, right?”

“Text?” I ask, picking up my phone. “Oh, yeah. Shit, I forgot.”

Jared: Where are you?