and wanted to see how one works.”
Unable to believe that anyone was that innocent, he dug a hand in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Here. Give it a try.”
She hesitated a second, biting her lower lip, then took the quarter from him and sat down in front of the machine. “What do I do?” she asked uncertainly, placing her purse primly on pressed-together knees.
“Just slip the quarter in that slot there,” he said, pointing, “then push the spin button. Or, if you want to do it the old-fashioned way, you can pull down the arm at the side of the machine.”
He bit back a grin when he saw the way her fingers trembled as she dropped the coin into the slot. Bracing his hands on his thighs, he leaned forward as she pulled down the arm, putting his face on the same level with hers, then watched with her as the images flashed by. When the wheel stopped, three cherries were displayed. Immediately lights started flashing, the national anthem blared from a hidden speaker within the machine…and Troy gaped.
She jumped up from the stool, nearly knocking him down. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, pressing herself against his side, trembling, as she stared in horror at the machine.
“Wrong?” Chuckling, Troy leaned over and punched the cash out button, and tokens clinked musically as they began to spill into the payoff return. “I’d say you definitely did something right. You hit the jackpot.”
“Jackpot?” she repeated, staring at him. Then her mouth dropped open and she let out a squeal that had more than a few heads turning their way. Before he had a chance to brace himself, she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Troy! That’s marvelous! You won! You won!”
For a moment Troy could do nothing but hold on to her as she jumped up and down in his arms, painfully aware of the swell of her breasts chafing against his chest, the slender arms wrapped around his neck, her womanly scent. But then what she’d said slowly registered.
He’d won?
Before he could argue the point, she was whirling away and dropping to her knees to pick up coins from the floor as they spilled from the brimming payoff return. “Oh, my heavens, Troy!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining brighter than any star he’d ever seen light a night sky. “There must be hundreds of dollars here. Maybe thousands! You’re rich!”
“Me!” he said in dismay, staring at her as she scrambled around on the floor, retrieving dropped tokens. “Hell, that money’s not mine.”
She stopped suddenly and glanced up, looking like a kid who’d dropped her ice cream cone before she’d gotten the first lick. “It’s not?”
“Hell, no! That money’s yours! You were the one behind the controls.”
“Oh, no,” she said, and dropped the tokens back into the bin, then dusted her hands, as if to deny ownership. “It’s yours. It was your quarter that I inserted into the machine. Not mine.”
Troy stared at her a long moment, unable to believe what he was hearing. Any other woman would probably already be at the cashier’s box, cashing in the tokens and thinking about a zillion ways to spend the money, not arguing over ownership. Shaking his head, he pulled off his cowboy hat. “An angel,” he muttered under his breath as he stooped to scrape the mountain of tokens into the crown of his hat. And a lucky angel, at that.
As he straightened, having to use both hands to support the loaded hat, he glanced toward the crap tables, wondering if Shelby might like to try her hand at that game of chance. Lady Luck definitely seemed to be riding on her shoulder that night. But then he glanced back at her and saw her standing with her purse hugged at her side, peering at the entrance, that worried look in her eyes again.
Sighing, he jerked his chin in the direction of the cashier’s booth. “Let’s cash this in and get out of here,” he said gruffly. “We can fight over who gets stuck with the winnings later.”
“No,” Shelby said, frowning slightly as she studied the tiny chapel tucked against the side of the hotel. Red neon lights flashed on and off beneath an oversize set of plaster wedding bells draped with satin-like ribbon painted a garish silver. The blinking sign promised a drive-through wedding ceremony for under twenty-five dollars. “This one is just too…too…”
“Tacky?” Troy offered helpfully.
“Yes,” she replied, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “Much too tacky.”
It was the fourth chapel Troy had driven by and the fourth Shelby had eliminated, for one reason or another. Personally, he thought the Elvis wedding might have been kind of fun, definitely something to tell the guys about later, but she had nixed that one with barely a glance.
Wearily he plucked another brochure from the pile littering the console. “How about this one?” he asked, holding the brochure out for her inspection. “The Little Church of the West. The name has a nice ring to it, plus it actually looks like a real church. See?”
Shelby studied the photo he indicated and the creases on her forehead slowly smoothed. “That’s it,” she said, then tipped her face up to Troy’s, her smile radiant. “That’s the one.”
“You sure?” he asked uncertainly.
“Positive,” she said, and took the brochure from his hand. “And it isn’t too far,” she added, studying the map. She lifted a hand and pointed a finger. “Three blocks ahead, near the end of the strip. The chapel should be right there.”
Troy stood back while Shelby talked to the receptionist, his cowboy hat clasped between his wide hands, feeling much like what he thought a corpse might feel—if they could feel anything—while waiting for their casket to be selected.
“And which package would you like?” the receptionist asked, turning a colorfully printed brochure around on the desk for Shelby’s inspection. “A custom package? Or perhaps our luxury package?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Shelby replied uncertainly, and turned to give Troy a helpless look. He arched a brow and lifted a shoulder, letting her know the decision was hers to make. “Just the basic one, I guess,” she said, turning back to the woman.
“We offer several services and items for our guests’ convenience. Surely you’d like to have a video recording of your ceremony to share with your family back home?”
“Oh, no,” Shelby said with a quick shake of her head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“How about photographs, then? We have a professional photographer on hand who takes wonderful pictures. I’m sure you’ll want a set to commemorate the event.”
“No,” Shelby said slowly, and Troy thought he heard tears in her voice. “I…I don’t think so.”
“Flowers?” the receptionist offered, peeking around Shelby to peer at Troy, her arched eyebrows indicating that she considered him to be the ultimate tightwad.
“N-no. Just—”
Troy saw Shelby’s chin begin to quiver and knew he hadn’t been mistaken. She was definitely about to turn on the waterworks, which didn’t surprise him. He was amazed she’d made it this far without falling apart. A woman like her had probably dreamed for years about her wedding day…and, more than likely, those dreams had never
