But the pictures people took wouldn’t capture the significance of the glass sculpture, the subtle striations of color in the individual pieces, or the delicate and thoughtful way the flowers had been arranged and hung to maximize the light. So much of it would be lost in translation.
Her parents had taken her to see it as a teenager when the casino first opened. It was one of the last things they had all done as a family before her parents died.
She glanced back at Carter, but he was still on the phone.
Skirting the perimeter of the display, she found the piece she wanted. The bright magenta flower with a dark red center that fanned out to the palest of pink on the ruffled edges had been her mother’s favorite. She’d been Alexa’s best friend. She’d told her mom everything, from getting her period, to her first crush, Perry Knightly, who now sat on the Las Vegas City Council, and all the little inconsequential things that made up her life. But since her parents died, she’d had trouble opening up to people, because having to wade through the abyss of that kind of grief to get to happiness again felt insurmountable.
She blew out a frustrated breath and gave the flower a final look. It was still beautiful, but rather than grounding Alexa as it usually did, the memory of her parents made her anxious. She would never stop missing them, but she loved her life and was thankful for everything she still had. Her uncle had made her work her ass off doing every job in the casino, including scrubbing toilets, which wasn’t a pretty picture in a casino that gave alcohol away for free. She’d worked hard and was making her mark on Vegas. Life was good.
However, now Carter was leaving town, quite possibly her uncle if he was serious about retiring, and even Halcyon might be out of her life if she didn’t get her shit together. Where did that leave her? Alone in Las Vegas without her best friend and only living family? That sounded awful.
A man in faded, ripped jeans and two full sleeves of tattoos comprising vivid Mexican sugar skulls and raging flames stopped next to her to study the sculpture. His tight black T-shirt hugged imposing biceps and pecs that practically begged to be touched. Just the kind of guy she liked to have a good time with.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” she asked him, following his gaze upward.
He glanced over at her, and she felt him take her in from bare legs to ample cleavage. His deep brown eyes met hers with an appreciative twinkle.
“I’ll say,” he drawled, his voice gruff and a little rough around the edges, like his outfit.
She smiled up at him, loving the chance to flirt with someone. It was so easy. Men were so easy.
“Do you ride?” she asked, nodding to the chain on his pants and the scuffed black motorcycle boots.
He nodded. “You?”
Head tilted, she gave him a coy smile. “Of course. But not usually on the first date.”
“Set you up for that one, didn’t I?” He grinned, taking a step into her space.
The smell of leather and oil tickled her nose as she breathed him in, vaguely thinking that she preferred Carter’s fresh and spicy scent. It reminded her of laundry and money. Not that biker guy didn’t have his own appeal based on sheer muscle mass alone.
“You did,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “So are you here to gamble or just look at the art?”
His head tilted. “Would you believe me if I said just to look at the art?”
It was her turn to give him a once-over then, which he visibly enjoyed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I’d say there’s a fifty-fifty chance,” she concluded.
“I’m a tattoo artist. Sometimes I come look at this to get inspired.” He lifted up the front of his shirt to reveal a massive tattoo covering his washboard abs, the bombs of color similar to the flowers above them.
She reached out a hand and traced one of the blue shapes with a finger. “That’s...unexpected,” she murmured, marveling at the artistry of it and the myriad of colors and shapes winding over his skin like a trippy Pollock painting.
“Yeah, I’m only a hardheaded motorcycle dude like sixty percent of the time,” he joked.
She pulled her hand back and his shirt fell down, which made her nearly sigh out loud in disappointment. Abs and art like that should never be covered up.
“What about you?” he asked, taking her hand in his like a pro, tracing the same fingertips that had touched his chest. “You here to gamble?”
She didn’t necessarily feel a spark between them, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be one later. He was just the kind of distraction she needed. “I’m always ready to gamble.”
His thick arm slid around her waist then and her eyes slid closed in anticipation of a kiss that never came.
Her eyes popped open to see Carter standing there, his arms crossed and mouth knotted into a sinister frown.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Carter demanded, looking more pissed off than she could ever remember him being. Especially at her. He never got angry at her.
Biker Guy released her, but kept a hand on her back. He didn’t look scared of Carter, but he should be. Though Biker Guy’s muscles were larger, Carter had been studying jujitsu since he was a kid and could kick a lot of ass in very little time. Specifically, he’d put a football player in the hospital for grabbing her ass at a party in college once.
Alexa wasn’t exactly sure who Carter was addressing, but before she could answer, Biker Guy did it for her. “Who are you?”
Alexa stepped in front of Carter, imploring him to be cool with her eyes. “I’m busy, Carter. Can I just catch you later?”
Carter’s blue eyes darkened dangerously under the lenses of his glasses. “I don’t think so.”
Biker Guy gave Carter an assessing look. “If the lady wants to be left alone, I’d say that’s what you should do.”
Alexa sighed. As much as she was annoyed by Carter’s intrusion and high-handedness, this interaction needed to end before it turned into a scene that would get back to her uncle. That was exactly the last thing she needed at the advent of her reputation-cleanup initiative.
She held out her hand to the Biker Guy. “Mind if I see your phone?”
A corner of his mouth lifting, he reached into his back pocket and handed it over. She programmed her number into his contacts, showing him the face where she’d typed in her name as Your Best Ride. Someone sue her, he was hot.
“Call me soon,” she instructed.
“I look forward to it,” he said with one last once-over. “You take care.”
When he was gone, Alexa returned her attention to Carter, who was still standing with his arms crossed over his chest and looking murderous.
“What the hell is your problem?” she demanded.
“I was gone for all of three minutes and you’re hitting on some random guy who by the looks of it could be a serial killer?”
She
