Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

I took a deep breath and placed my hand over my eyes. A deep ache throbbed behind them. Was it stress or tiredness? I couldn’t tell. Both were completely viable.

“Dahlia?”

The laughter gave way to Damien’s deep voice.

“Dahlia isn’t here,” I replied, dropping my hand.

“You sound like her.”

“I’m her unreasonable twin.” I bit down on my lower lip and looked up to the ceiling. Had I just thrown his stupid line back at him? God, I had. I was a mess.

“There are a lot of these twins around, huh?”

The laughter that he was hiding in his voice was the thing that made me turn and open the door. Only by an inch, though.

I poked my head into the gap and peered up at him through my eyelashes. He smelled like coffee and fresh air. His hair was brushed and slicked back in its normal style, a far cry from the messy mop it was this morning.

I was kinda sad about that. There was something so freeing about him when his hair wasn’t tightly styled back. This one made him look…uptight.

“Have you ever considered not slicking your hair back like Gomez Addams?” The words all but fell from my lips, much to Abby and Fergus’ amusement and my mortification.

Yep. Abby and Fergus were still hanging around like a pair of bad rashes.

Damien’s lips twitched to the side. His eyes twinkled in that annoyingly charming way of his, and he skipped right over my question. “Can we talk?”

“We can. I think the question you’re looking for is could we talk.”

“We could, but by this logic, my question should be would you talk to me.” His amusement was mounting. “So, would you talk to me?”

“I’m so awkward,” I muttered, stepping to the side and opening the door for him.

He joined me inside as I shut the door on Abby and Fergus waggling their eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t have ever pegged you as awkward,” Damien said, meeting my gaze. “But, that said, ever since last night, I’m starting to see that you can be awkward.”

“We’ve all got our bad qual—” A bang interrupted me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and reached for the door handle. One quick tug later and the eavesdroppers were struggling to stay on their feet.

“I forgot my—” Fergus started.

“Buttplug!” Abby finished, clapping her hand over her mouth. “Wait. Was that stereotypical?” she asked him.

“Little bit.” He grimaced.

I cleared my throat and hit them with a look that said it wasn’t cute anymore. “Don’t the two of you have work to be doing? Like managing the bar, Fergus? And an interview in fifteen, Abby?”

Abby glanced at her watch. “Oh, shit!” She grabbed Fergus’ shirt and dragged him after her down the hallway.

“There are a few times,” Damien began, looking after their retreating figures, “that I’ve thought you’re lucky to work with your closest friends. Today is not one of those times.”

“You’re preaching to the damn choir,” I muttered to myself. “Let’s go. Fergus is great at delegating stuff and a terrible gossiper.” I snatched my purse and phone up from the desk.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere the nosy neighbors can’t see or hear us.” I locked the office door behind me and led him into the bar. I stopped by the end of it—I had to let someone know I was leaving, even though I didn’t think I’d be gone that long—and saw my favorite thing.

Fergus being chatted up by a woman.

I nudged Damien in the stomach lightly. “Watch this.”

“Is she—ohh.” He leaned forward a little, his fingers brushing across my hip as he went to grip the edge of the bar.

A flash of heat spread over my skin where he’d touched me.

The girl opposite Fergus bent right over the bar, squeezing her boobs together. I glanced up, but Damien didn’t react. Well, he reacted with amusement when Fergus slid her drink across to her, leaned in, and her expression changed to one of embarrassed shock.

“Never gets old,” I mused, catching Fergus’ eye and nodding toward the door. He shot me a thumbs up. “Come on. Before he decides to take his break and follow us.”

“He’d do tha—never mind.”

I laughed. “Of course he would. I might be his boss, but he’s still older than me. He plays the elders card on a semi-regular basis.”

“Have you reminded him what happens when you get old?” Damien held the door open for me.

“Yes. He’s more bothered about the wrinkles than anything else.”

It was his turn to laugh. He pulled his sunglasses from where they’d been hanging at the collar of his shirt and put them on. I had to dig in my purse for mine, but we’d only taken a few steps when I had mine on, too.

“Where are we going?” he looked down at me.

I glanced at my feet encased in my white, lace flats. “We can just walk.”