This Thing of Ours (The Gamblers Spin-off Novel) Page 12

  She peeked under her lashes at him, grimacing. “Not really. But it was worth a shot.”

  “We’ll go to the mall.”

  He caught her hand and started pulling her to the stairs. “Wait. I need to change.”

  He glanced down the length of her, taking in her leggings and sweatshirt. “Why?”

  “I’m dressed for comfort, not company. I can’t wear this to the mall.” She plucked at the front of her UNLV sweatshirt. Four years old, she’d bought it when she’d first started college. The material was faded and the logo half missing from countless washes.

  He shrugged. “You’re walking around a mall, trying on clothes. Don’t you want to be comfortable?”

  That made perfect sense. Darn him. “Fine. Let’s go.” She bounded down the stairs.

  “Wait!”

  She stopped mid-tread, and looking over her shoulder, raised a questioning brow.

  “Maybe you should change.”

  She laughed. “What? You just convinced me not to.”

  He had a cute little frown on his face. “That was before I saw you from behind. Those pants are too tight, and the sweatshirt isn’t long enough to cover your ass.”

  “Sorry, Charlie.” She continued down the stairs, calling over her shoulder, “You made your bed, now you must lie in it.” She heard him mumble something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch, but the tone made her giggle.

  She grabbed her purse from the breakfast bar and looked down at Fred who started attacking her shoelaces. “Do you think he’ll be okay here all alone?”

  Marco scooped the pup up and scratched at his belly. Fred licked him under the chin. Gabby’s heart melted, and her stomach did a little flip. Hot guy and puppy. There was no defense against that.

  “He did fine last night. I’ll turn the TV on for him. Just make sure his water bowl is full.”

  The TV clicked on, and a minute later, Marco was back, standing on the other side of the breakfast bar.

  Gabby waved her hand at the floor. “Fred has plenty of food and water.”

  Marco scooped up his keys. “Okay. Then let’s go.”

  If someone had told Gabby ahead of time that Marco could manage to suck all the fun out of shopping, she wouldn’t have believed them, but it had taken her less than an hour to discover it was true. And all because of a few simple facts.

  Marco was bored.

  It wasn’t anything like shopping with Olivia who was full of energy and excitement. Or even her mom who, although took shopping way too seriously, at least had helpful advice. Nope, by the second store, Gabby had noticed a glazed look had fallen over Marco’s eyes, and he was about as animated as any of the many mannequins that adorned the stores.

  When he wasn’t bored, he was tense.

  With less than two weeks until Christmas, the mall was packed. As in you-had-to-make-a-conscious-effort-not-to-bump-into-anyone-while-navigating-around-the-mall kind of packed. Marco was not happy about this. She’d thought Ricky and Leo were intense bodyguards? They had nothing on Marco. She’d been worried he was on the brink of whipping out his gun a few times already. His grumpiness had also killed the buzz she’d been experiencing at finding a cute pair of shoes on sale.

  He wouldn’t let her pay for anything.

  Which had been embarrassing when he’d argued with her for ten minutes about it with the Macy’s saleswoman watching the proceedings with a fake smile on her face, all the while, staring hungrily at the credit cards each of them had been flapping around. Of course, Marco had won—and, incidentally, that had been one of the times she’d been sure Marco wanted to pull out his gun.

  So, after all that, fun-sucking Marco was officially crossed off her shopping go-to buddy list.

  Plus, he’d made her hate shopping.

  Okay, so that last part was a lie, but it was a close thing.

  They only needed to make one more stop then they could both put their misery behind them. The dress she’d bought—or more accurately, Marco had bought—could only be worn with a strapless bra. She’d actually contemplated going braless. That’s how much she didn’t want to go into a lingerie store with Marco.

  Spying Victoria’s Secret a few shops away, her steps slowed to almost a crawl. One would think she was taking a walk down Death Row in preparation of her execution. That’s how slow her steps had become.

  Of course, Marco noticed. He gave her hand a squeeze before asking, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s a lie,” Mr. Human Lie Detector pointed out.

  They were coming upon a bench that was, surprisingly, unoccupied. “What’s the chance of me getting you to sit on that bench so I can go somewhere alone for about fifteen minutes?”

  “None.”

  Gabby sighed. Yeah, that’s what she’d thought.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  They were nearing the store, and if she didn’t just bite the bullet, they would soon pass it. “I, ah, need to get a bra for my dress,” she said, pointing a finger at the store so he would understand the gravity of her statement.

  Marco glanced into the shop’s window then frowned down at her. “Okay. So?”

  He obviously didn’t understand the gravity of the statement. “So? So, it’s a lingerie shop.”

  He took another look at the store, his frown growing deeper, then repeated, “So?”

  “So?” Why did she keep repeating him? Oh, yeah, because she was uncomfortable. “Because it’s embarrassing.”

  “Why?”

  Jeez, were all men so thick? Did she really need to spell it out? “Because I’ve never been underwear shopping with a man before.”

  His frown vanished as understanding lit his eyes, and the corners of his lips tipped up. “Good to know.”

  Gah! Really, that was his answer? Not, Oh, let me make you more comfortable by sitting on the bench so you can go into the store alone. No, instead, his strides lengthened, and they were in the store before she could worry or protest further.

  They were besieged instantly by a tall blonde in a skintight dress so short it showed almost every inch of her fabulous legs.

  “Can I help you?” Her question and smile were directed at Marco along with her hands that she couldn’t seem to keep to herself.

  When Gabby looked over at him, Marco’s eyes weren’t trained on the blonde, they were on her. His eyes twinkled as he, not so subtly, removed his arm from the woman’s grasp.

  Gabby smiled, and without taking her eyes from Marco, she told the blonde, “We’re good. But if I need help, I’ll let you know.”

  Marco’s lips tipped up on one side, and he gave her a wink.

  “I’ll be back.” She gave his hand a squeeze, and he let hers go, so she could freely roam the store.

  It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for and make her way to the cash register. Marco was at her side by the time she reached it, credit card out. This time, Gabby didn’t argue and even managed a cheery smile and wave for the blonde on her way out.

  In conclusion, if getting a wink from Marco was her reward, she’d suffer through shopping with him any day.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Marco skirted the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa. Not even a minute later, he stood back up, adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, and tugged at the hem of his jacket before walking over to the sliding door to stare aimlessly out at the patio.

  He didn’t know why he was so nervous. Scratch that, yes, he did. And the reason was upstairs getting ready in his bathroom. He was going on a date with the most beautiful woman in the world. On a ranking of his fear meter, having a gun held to his head had nothing on that.

  He heard the click of the bathroom door and like a magnet, his eyes flew to the top of the stairs. A minute later, there she stood. And she literally took his breath away, the air leaving his lungs with a harsh sigh.

  He slowly sucked in a breath as he devoured Gabriella with his eyes. Her hair was back to its natural black
, and though he did miss the long fall of it, he had to admit, he loved the way the ends teased her bare shoulders. Shoulders his fingers itched to caress to see whether the skin could possibly be as soft and smooth as it looked.

  From a distance, her eyes matched her hair—dark and shiny—but he knew, up close, they were a deep, rich, chocolate brown. Sinfully sweet with a slight aftertaste of bitter, warning a person she may be delicious, but if you got greedy and took too big a bite, she wouldn’t have a problem biting back.

  Her lush, red lips parted as her chest rose and fell, and he liked to think she had his same breathing difficulties while taking him in. Did she feel as he felt? Was her heart beating faster? Did she crave to come closer? Was just the thought of touching him enough to send her to her knees?

  Because he felt all that and more.

  Her legs were bare, with no adornments but the spiky, black heels on her feet. And as she took a few steps down, the red silk of her dress hiked up to flash glimpses of her thighs, hypnotizing him as she made her descent.

  He met her by the time she reached the bottom, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. Hers quirked and he knew he was about to get some sass. His dick hardened at the thought. She didn’t disappoint him.

  “So gallant.”

  Gallant? No, he wasn’t that. Just a man with a strong desire to have his lips on any part of her body and thinking her hand was his safest bet if he wanted them to actually leave the house. He didn’t share that thought, instead saying, “You look too beautiful to mess up.”

  Standing two steps above him, their faces level, it would be so easy to take her mouth, smear her lipstick, and have her walk out of there looking freshly fucked so all would know who she belonged to with his lips carrying her same shade.

  “You ready?”

  Then she said something that pierced his heart and sealed her fate. “For you, I’ve always been ready.”

  Even with nothing to compare it to, Marco thought their first date was going pretty damn good.

  Though cliché, he’d taken Gabriella for Italian, knowing it was her favorite. He’d picked the best and most expensive joint in Vegas that didn’t belong to The Family to ensure she’d never been before, and it’d paid off. Entering the restaurant, the scent of garlic, tomatoes, and yeasty bread hitting his nose, Gabriella had grabbed hold of his arm, gushing how she’d heard such good things and had always wanted to dine there. He’d escorted her to their table with a hand at the small of her back, feeling ten-feet tall from a job well done.

  And it hadn’t ended there. The food had been fucking fantastic. His veal so tender, he could cut it with a fork, and the pasta—though he hated to admit it—had been better than his nonna’s.

  They’d made small talk over dinner—the conversation flowing easily and naturally—but had been silent throughout dessert—her because she’d been busy eating it, him because he’d been busy watching her do so.

  It hadn’t been until they were leaving the restaurant that things started to go downhill.

  Marco took Gabriella’s hand as they stepped through the door, and she said, “Dinner was amazing. Thank you.”

  He stopped them on the sidewalk. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  She looked up at the stars. “It’s a beautiful night. I’m not ready for it to end.”

  Marco felt a moment of panic. He hadn’t planned anything past dinner.

  She saved him, though. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  A walk he could do. He kept her hand as they made their way down the sidewalk. They were about a block away from The Strip, and he led them that direction.

  He looked down at her feet. “You okay walking in those shoes?”

  “Sure. They’re super comfortable.”

  He scrutinized them with a critical eye. That would be one of the last adjectives he’d use to describe them. Sexy? Fuck, yeah. Comfortable? Not so much.

  Gabriella squeezed his hand and pointed excitedly. “Oh, can we go there?”

  They’d just rounded the corner and hit the center of Las Vegas Boulevard. A bar was what had caught her interest. Its blazing neon sign spelling out the word Rascal’s one flashing letter at a time.

  Marco thought it spelled trouble.

  He must have taken too long to answer because she said, “Please,” stretching the A and turning it into a plea.

  He could never deny her, and though he had serious misgivings, he finally relented. “Yeah, okay.”

  She beamed up at him, and that was enough reward for any shit he was about to encounter.

  Her smile was always enough.

  The place was loud, crowded, and smelled like stale beer. A jukebox blared some top-forty shit from a decade ago next to a small dance floor packed with grinding bodies. The bar and all the tables were occupied. In short, it was the last place he wanted Gabriella to be.

  Keeping a firm hold on her hand, he walked them to a corner booth. The four guys sitting at the table looked up at their approach. Marco forced a pleasant smile. “Four hundred bucks for the table.”

  Two of their mouths fell open, one did a slow blink, and one was stupid enough to say, “Let’s see it first.”

  Idiot.

  “Why would I offer something I don’t have?”

  One of his friends laughed. “He makes a good point.”

  Not letting it go, the guy defended, “Maybe once we stand up, he steals the booth but doesn’t pay?”

  Marco reassessed, the guy wasn’t an idiot, he was a moron.

  His friend seemed to agree. “That’s stupid, man. There’s four of us and one of him.”

  Marco was losing patience. “Yes or no? My girl wants to sit.”

  One of the guys stood from the booth and shrugged. “I could use a hundred bucks.”

  His friend followed suit, sliding out after him. “Yeah, man, me, too.”

  The asshole stayed planted, blocking the other guy in. The guy sitting next to him nudged him with an elbow.

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” The asshole got out of the booth, and his friend slid out behind him.

  Marco pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, peeled off four bills, then passed them out. The men grabbed their drinks and staggered into the crowd.

  “I can’t believe you just paid four hundred dollars for this table. We could’ve stood over by the bar,” Gabriella said once they were seated.

  Marco grunted but didn’t reply as a waitress stepped up to the table. “What can I get you guys?”

  Leaning closer to Gabriella, he asked, “What would you like?”

  She thought a few seconds then finally said, “I’m not a big drinker. Surprise me.”

  Turning back to the waitress, Marco said, “The lady will have a sea breeze. I’ll have a beer. Whatever’s on tap is fine.” It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t be drinking it.

  He took another look around as their server left, his eyes drawn to a group a few tables away. Five men and three women were crammed into a horseshoe booth. They were loud and getting louder and rowdier by the minute, but it seemed self-contained to their booth. He’d keep an eye on them. He tracked the asshole from earlier, noticed him standing on the fringes of the dance floor, beer in hand.

  “You hate this place, don’t you?”

  He turned his attention back to Gabriella. “I don’t… hate it,” he said cautiously and diplomatically.

  Or so he thought until she laughed, “You sooo hate this place.”

  Resting his forearms on the table he sighed and admitted, “Yeah.”

  “Why?” she asked, seeming genuinely curious. “We’re in a decent area at the heart of the Las Vegas strip.” She waved a hand around. “The place isn’t a dive, and the people seem friendly enough. Plus, it’s still early. Nothing bad ever happens in a bar at nine o’clock.”

  He pulled his eyebrows into a frown and addressed her last comment first as it was the most ridiculous. “Bad things happen in bars at all hours. People drink in bars, and when people drink, they become unpr
edictable.” He captured a lock of her hair and twisted it around his finger, pulling her closer, until their faces were but inches apart. “Don’t let the friendly laughter fool you, it can turn belligerent on a dime.”

  She covered his hand that rested on the table with her own. “So cynical.”

  He gave her a small smile because she wasn’t totally wrong but shook his head and said, “No, just a realist. I’ve seen a lot of bad shit done by all kinds of people. Even the good ones.”

  The waitress came and delivered their drinks. Gabriella picked hers up, sniffed it, took a small sip, then promptly made a face.

  Marco chuckled. “You don’t like it.”

  She set the glass down and licked her lips. “I’m not a fan of grapefruit juice. Or cranberry juice, really. I think it’s the bitterness I don’t like.”

  For as long as he’d known Gabriella, he felt as though he should have known that—her likes and dislikes. He raised his hand to signal the server, wanting to rectify his mistake. “We’ll order you something else.”

  She grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand down. “No. It’s okay. As I said, I’m not a big drinker and really just wanted one to blend in. Soak up the atmosphere as one of the natives, so to speak.” She laughed nervously and fiddled with the straw in her drink. “That sounded kind of stupid when said aloud.”

  A blush tinged the apples of her cheeks, and without thought, he leaned in and kissed her. A gentle brush of his lips against hers. He backed away a fraction, and murmured, “Nothing you could ever say would be stupid.”

  Speaking just as softly, she said, “I think you’re biased.”

  He smiled even though with their faces so close, he knew she couldn’t see it. “Absolutely.” He waited a beat then continued, “Now, I need to ask you a very serious question.”

  She nodded her assent, a small frown pulling at her lips.

  “What else don’t you like?”

  She tipped her head back and giggled at his very serious, non-serious question, no longer looking uncomfortable.

  Mission accomplished.