Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,17

up the stakes.”

I stood, only wobbling a little, and he held my arm to keep me steady. “Up the stakes?”

His hand slid around to my lower back. “Absolutely. We can’t waste this kind of luck.”

“But I don’t—”

“Don’t worry,” he said, and his voice was so reassuring. “It’ll be fun.”

More fun? That was why I was here, wasn’t it?

With his hand on the small of my back, he led me to one of the craps tables. I had no idea how to play, but I figured how hard could it be? Place some bets, roll some dice.

Craps turned out to be even better than a slot machine. Cox explained the basics, and after the first few rolls, I started to get the hang of it. A well-dressed couple joined us and pretty soon we were the liveliest table in the casino.

The dealer pushed the dice toward me and I picked up two, then clutched them in my fist and blew on them for luck. I tossed them onto the table. They hit the back and bounced, coming to a stop to a chorus of cheers.

I was on fire.

Someone handed me a shot of whiskey. Cox held his up and we clinked our glasses together.

“To a magical night,” he said with a wink.

“I’ll drink to that.”

I swallowed the shot, feeling the bite as it slid down my throat. I wasn’t normally a whiskey girl, but whatever that was, it was good. So smooth.

“All right, sugar.” Cox took my shot glass. “Let’s see some more magic.”

I rolled the dice again and everyone at the table won. My arms flew overhead as I cheered. When had I stepped out of my shoes? I glanced down at the floor. They were right there, one tipped over on its side, and that didn’t seem to matter very much right now. Who cared if I was barefoot?

Cox swept my hair back over my shoulder, his fingers brushing my neck. The light touch sent a tingle down my spine.

“Not pulling my hair now, are you Cox?” I asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “No, indeed.”

“I guess I’m easier to like when I’m your lucky charm.”

“You’re the one doing all the winning, sugar. I’m just along for the ride.”

Giggling, I poked his chest. “That’s what she said.”

The next couple of hours went by in a haze of winning, cheering, and celebrating.

And drinking.

I lost track of how many chips I had. They seemed to be multiplying. Which I suppose they were because I kept winning.

I also lost track of how many shots I took.

Cox’s hand slipped around my waist and I had a feeling that wasn’t something in his pocket when he pressed himself close to celebrate my latest winning throw.

I glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. The room spun, and in the back of my mind, I knew I was trucking right past buzzed and heading straight for drunk. But I didn’t care. I felt wild and uninhibited. Unstoppable. I was the luckiest girl in Vegas, and this was going to be the best night of my life.

7

Cox

The insides of my eyelids felt like sandpaper scraping across my eyeballs. The beginnings of a headache radiated from my temples and my mouth tasted like something had died in there.

Holy shit. What had I done to myself last night? I hadn’t partied that hard in years.

Blinking, I glanced around to get my bearings. Where the fuck was I?

Sprawled face-down on a king bed in a hotel suite. Naked.

Where were my clothes and why wasn’t I wearing them?

The previous night was a haze. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten here, and this wasn’t my room. I wasn’t even sure if this was my hotel. I shifted enough to reach the nightstand. The notepad next to the lamp had the Bellagio logo.

Definitely not my hotel.

And what had happened to Sophie? Had she come with me? Or had I lost her somewhere last night?

Fuck.

I bolted to my feet, making my head throb.

A low thud followed by a soft “Ouch” came from the other room.

That seemed to answer my question, and the sudden spike of alarm eased. She was here.

I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and held it over my crotch. Then I pushed open the bedroom door.

Sophie knelt on the couch facing away from me, wearing nothing but a white sheet that she’d wrapped around herself. She was bent over with her head resting on the back of the couch and had one arm draped behind it, like she was trying to