Rough and Tumble (11 page)

That was the reason she'd kissed him—because something about that look had spoken to her louder than any words ever could. It'd been loneliness, and before she'd met Arden and Sofia in college, Molly had been an expert when it came to that.

How could she tell all this to her friends, though? Would they believe Cash was actually more than a sex-crazed hunk? Hell,
she
could hardly even believe that was the case, and she didn't want to hear their opinions on it. All she wanted to do was hold on to the afterglow a little longer.

Just a tad.

So she kept quiet as she and her friends ate at the buffet. She'd selected the healthiest food possible, like steamed vegetables, lots of fruit, and hydrating nutrition that would make up for her whisky binge yesterday. And as she ate, she noticed Sofia and Arden giving her the detective eye. Had they read her face while she'd been thinking of Cash?

She sighed. “You guys are still bent out of shape about last night, aren't you?”

Sofia, looking fresh and perky with her side ponytail and forever-twenty-one-even-if-I'm-thirty sundress, stirred sugar into her coffee. “We're not mad at you. It's only that details about the hell-date were a letdown. I can't help thinking that there's something you're not telling us, Mol.”

“Molly's not so much a kisser and teller,” Arden said. “Never has been.”

“But this is different.” Sofia put down her stirring stick. “All we got out of Molly last night was, ‘He paraded me around the saloon, I watched him pick up on other girls, and then it was over.'”

Okay, so she'd lied a touch. It was so much easier than trying to explain how she'd gone randy in the Thunderbird.

Arden, with her short red hair gelled back for the wet look, seemed detached from the conversation, but Sofia followed up.

“Molly, you did spend an awful lot of time on such an uneventful date.”

“I told you guys,” she said. “Traffic was worse than we thought on the way back and—”

Arden mixed her food around on her plate while Sofia laughed.

“Excuses, excuses,” she said. “I'm going to get to the bottom of this, just wait and see.”

Molly decided to push the spotlight off her while getting to the bottom of what was up with Arden.

“Are you okay?” she asked her.

“Sure.” She stabbed at a watermelon chunk, but in spite of her assurance, her shoulders sank. She hesitated, then tripped ahead. “Just having a run of bad luck, that's all. I should've walked away from my machine last night when I was way up. That's why Sof and I went to the room early, because an on-demand movie was way cheaper than those slots.”

Sofia put down her coffee, and Molly could tell she wanted to ask a tough question.

“Ard . . . since you lost your play money last night, what were you betting this morning?”

Something had gone down between Sofia and Arden, and neither was talking, and Molly felt sort of lost. Left out. But why not when she'd been on her own adventure and was keeping secrets about it, too?

Arden had set down her fork and leaned back in their booth. Were those tears in her eyes?
Oh, crap.

“Arden?” Sofia said, sliding over to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Molly did the same. “What's going on?”

“I'm so screwed,” Arden said.

Molly and Sofia exchanged doom glances.
What now?

She gulped. “Don't kill me. You promise?”

Molly nodded slowly. After a second, so did Sofia.

Arden gripped the napkin on her lap. “I took an out an advance on my credit card. Not a ton of money,” she said when Sofia stopped hugging her, “but enough so that I could try to make back what I lost last night.”

“But,” Sofia said, “last night was money you won because of your free play dollars. It was icing on the cake. Why would you need to make up for that?”

No answer.

“Arden?” Molly asked.

Her eyes were glassy. “I didn't try to mess up so hard, you guys. But I bet on a Yankees game yesterday. They were supposed to win, and . . .”

“Arden.”
Sofia was like a rag doll on the cushions now.

All of them held their tongues as their server checked in with them, pouring Molly more water, then disappearing.

Sofia sat up, making a play for optimism. “So you lost more money to the casino. It's not like you owe someone like Cash a debt again.”

Arden sank lower in her seat.

This time Molly was the one with the, “
Arden!
”

Sofia acted like she was opening a door to a mysterious room, not wanting to see what was on the other side, but needing to.

“Who do you owe?” she whispered so no one at the other tables could hear. “A bookie? When the heck did you meet one of those?”

“It happened at the saloon,” Arden said.

Molly squeezed shut her eyes. The Rough & Tumble just wouldn't go away.

But with thoughts of the bar came thoughts of Cash, and she held back a totally inappropriate, naked thrill.
Nice.

“What happened at the saloon?” Molly asked slowly.

“You guys were at a table and I was at the bar, chatting with those tourists and the weekend-warrior bikers. Except one of them wasn't exactly a ‘bike enthusiast.' He was kind of the real thing.”

Molly gasped. “Are you talking about the man with the dirty beard and shirt who came in right before you went to play poker? Blue bandana on his head and sunglasses?” The guy at the R&T last night who'd been attached to a biker chick with her hand down his pants in public?

As Arden nodded, Sofia went as pale as her skin tone would allow.

“His name's Jimmy Beetles,” Molly said. “He was at the saloon last night and I recognized him from earlier in the day. Cash didn't seem to want to introduce me, and I got the impression he might be someone to stay away from.”

“He seemed friendly enough,” Arden said. “And I had a little booze in me, so when we started talking baseball, it seemed perfectly natural to place a friendly wager.”

Molly narrowed her eyes. “Arden, what did you bet?”

“Luckily, not you.” She pushed her plate away. “Just . . . well, just seven.”

Sofia hadn't moved. “Please tell me that by ‘seven,' you mean ‘seven hundred.'”

Arden paled now.

Sofia and Molly both whispered, “Shit.”

Arden waved around her hands. “I'd be in good shape if the Yankees had won. Or if I'd scored in the backroom poker game.”

Out of the frying pan and into the fire
, Molly thought.

Sofia had gotten out of the booth, wadding up her napkin and tossing it on the seat. “So that was why you wouldn't stop playing at the Rough and Tumble game, because you wanted to at least cover your bet with this Jimmy Beetles, which is a name that reminds me of the mob, by the way. Jeez, Arden.”

“Wait,” Molly said. “Did you give Beetles any personal information? Like your phone number or where we're staying?”

Arden frowned. “Yeah, and he already texted me about settling up. I texted back that I'd have the money to him by tonight.”

Sofia gritted her teeth. “If you don't come through, he might just come
here
. I think everyone in the Rough and Tumble, and maybe the entire universe, knew we were going to Caesars, thanks to the town crier.”

“Jimmy Beetles knows Cash,” Molly said softly. Her blood gave a leap in her veins, her pulse blipping.

Sofia sat back down. “Oh, Molly, as much as Arden is on my crap list right now, I don't want to see her get hunted down by a biker. Is it possible for you to . . . ?”

Arden interrupted, a touch of positivity in her tone. “Is it possible for Cash to tell us if Jimmy Beetles is the type who'd come after a misguided girl for money or if he's willing to take a payment plan?”

Molly acted as if hormones weren't flapping around inside of her. No one had to know that she'd been dying to hear Cash's voice again. She'd dreamed about it, had taken a shower thinking about it while running her hands over her body.

Eagerly, Arden took out her phone, giving it to Molly. “Cash had me exchange numbers with him in case you backed out on your date at the last minute.”

He was going to get a real kick out of
her
calling
him
. What she did for her friends.

“You owe me times two now,” Molly said, her pulse clamoring as she accessed Arden's contact list, finding his number under “bar slut.”

She dialed, the world going fuzzy and wild around her as the phone rang.

And rang.

Cash's phone vibrated on the bar of the Rough & Tumble, where Kat had plopped a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him. The same went for another local a couple seats down.

Gideon Lane nudged back his cowboy hat and, with a nod of gratitude to Kat, dug into his food. When Cash failed to check who was calling—his phone could wait but not breakfast—Gideon squinted at him.

“If I wanted a buzz,” he said, directing a gaze to the shaking phone, “I would've ordered a whisky.”

Cash bit into a strip of bacon. “It's pretty bad when a simple phone call can light up your temper, Quick-Draw.”

“You're not the one who was drowning your sorrows at the bar into the wee hours. Or
was
that you?”

Cash laughed. He'd come back to the R&T after dropping Molly off at the hotel, then indulged in enough booze to bring on a peaceful sleep. He didn't have many of those, and God knew he needed it after Molly. Not that lying in bed, drunk, and closing his eyes had done much good. She'd kept him tossing and turning until dawn, when he'd finally meandered over here to see what Kat, who was notorious for needing only four hours of sleep, had cooking.

His phone went to voice mail while Gideon shot back some coffee. Then he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his gray western shirt.

“So who was calling?” he asked.

“Who cares?”

“I was just thinking it might be your woman from last night. She seemed like the calling type.”

Little did he know.

Kat had overheard them while coming out of the backroom, wiping her hands off on a towel. Her sandy hair was pulled back in a low, spiked ponytail, her big blue gaze attentive.

“Maybe Gideon's right, Cash. I about peed my pants when I saw that Molly girl in here with you last night. I didn't think she'd go for that whole clear-a-poker-debt scheme of yours.”

Kat had obviously let Gideon know all about Molly, because the quick-draw cowboy didn't ask any prodding questions about the situation. Then again, Gideon rarely needed to ask anything. If Cash was good at reading people at the poker table, Gideon was a master in real life. There were a few times when Cash wanted to ask
Gideon
a thing or two, like how he'd gotten that gunpowder mark below his cheekbone, but why bother? He was a bodyguard-for-hire, and he'd never tell, just as Kat never talked to anyone else in the bar about the knife scar Cash had seen once by her rib cage when she'd been reaching for a tequila bottle on a high shelf and her shirt had ridden up. She'd told him, Boomer, Gideon, and Bennett the entire story one booze-soaked night, but that was the last time any of them had ever spoken of her woes.

“Don't get excited,” Cash said to her. “Molly fulfilled that wager for her friend. End of story.”

Gideon almost spit out his coffee. “You didn't score with her? Why, it looks as if there's a first for everything.”

“Who said I was trying very hard with that snow queen?” And why wasn't he bragging his ass off about Molly and him in the T-bird?

Kat leaned on the bar, whippet lean in her purple, torn-at-the-collar Rough & Tumble shirt and blue jean shorts. “Listen to this big talker, Gideon. He brought in a girl who required some courtin' and she kept those legs closed against him. Well, good for her, I say.”

He smiled to himself. Molly was more than good. She was better than any of them would ever know. So what if his ego took a knock today—he'd be back in the driver's seat tonight with whoever caught his eye and Molly would be forgotten.

A thud echoed through him, but he dismissed it. Must've been hunger for the eggs he hadn't finished yet.

Kat went to the backroom again, then brought out a basket of tortillas. Cash piled some eggs on one with a dash of salsa. As he was about to eat it, Kat went over to his phone. With a mischievous grin, she woke up the screen.

“Holy shit-ka-bob,” she said.

What? Had the Pope called him or something?

She brought the cell over. “Maybe your friend Molly isn't the calling type, but it seems her friend is.”

When he spotted Arden's name on the screen, he was at a loss. He'd put her in his contacts because of the bet, but he'd meant to erase her today. Was she calling because Molly had left behind something in his car and she didn't want to get ahold of him herself?

Come to think of it, she'd left
a lot
in his car last night, but none of it had been accidental.

He slid off the bar seat, making his breakfast burrito wait, grabbing the phone, and heading for the exit.

“Look at that,” Gideon said wryly. “He's trying so hard to do the cool walk.”

Kat laughed. “You're so cool, Cash!”

“Kiss my ass,” he muttered with a grin before shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on a feeble wood chair on the boardwalk. He crossed his ankle over his thigh, accessing his messages, curiosity banging at him.

Okay, maybe it was more than curiosity.

When Molly's voice came on the line, he sat up in his chair, every cell in his body crashing together.

“Hi, Cash. It's Molly.”

No shit.
He'd only been consumed with her for the past day. He'd already memorized the way she talked, the way she curved and swerved. The way her pussy had clenched around his cock, so tight.

“Sorry to bother you, but . . . it looks as if we have a situation here.”

He got out of his chair, his hand on his hip as he braced himself.

“Remember Jimmy Beetles?” she asked. “God, what am I saying. Of course you do. Well, Arden placed a little baseball-game bet with him. She lost.” From the way she said it, Cash could picture her standing there with her redheaded friend, shooting her a chiding look. “We were wondering if he's the type to . . . I don't know . . . maybe ride her down if she's late with the payment? Anyway, please call back. We're trying to scratch up seven thousand dollars for Jimmy Beetles, but Sof and I can only withdraw so much from our ATMs today to make up for what we don't have on hand, and most of my money is in stocks and nonliquid assets. I could find a bank that connects to my own for a little more, but it still wouldn't be enough because of . . . other commitments I have. Anyway. We'd really appreciate a call back, Cash.”

He disconnected, staring at the phone. All she would've had to do was say his name and she would've had him.

It did irk him that this was why she'd called, though. When he'd first heard her voice, there'd been something like optimism tapping inside him, and he'd thought . . . something crazy. Something like maybe she couldn't sleep last night, either. But how jackassed was that? He and optimism didn't exactly have a cozy relationship.

At any rate, she'd been right to call him. Jimmy Beetles wasn't the type who'd back off a bet easily. Luckily Cash already had a solution for that.

Thanks to the table he'd wiped out at the Rough & Tumble yesterday and a golden game last week, he could afford seven thousand dollars . . . but even Molly had to know it wouldn't be on the house.

***

Molly knew there was a saying about how watching a pot of water wouldn't make it boil. But here she was at a closed bar near the Harrah's buffet anyway, staring at Arden's phone in her hand.

Would Cash return her message? Or had she kissed him off so thoroughly last night that he was flipping her the bird now?

She looked up to find Sofia and Arden returning from the ATM, watching her anxiously.

“Did you get a hold of him?” Sof asked.

“Not since I phoned him in the buffet,” Molly said. “And I don't want to inundate him with calls, so I'm waiting.”

Arden kept her head down, as if expecting to be smacked for her journey into Vegas Gambling Nightmare, Part 2. Molly and Sofia had been too busy scrambling for money to lay into her yet, but there was definitely a talk coming. . . .

The phone rang, and Molly hopped off the seat, seeing that it was Cash.

“It's him.”

“Answer it!” both Sofia and Arden said.

As a cluster of tourists walked past them with party beads around their necks, Molly smoothed down her nerves and answered.

Bing-a-bam-a-bing
 . . . Her heart was louder than the slot machines. “Hello?”

“Molly, it's Cash.”

Bam-a-bam-a-boom!

“Oh, hi.” She smiled confidently at her friends, who urged her on. “How did you know it was me on Arden's phone?”

They rolled their eyes, and Molly realized she was being a tad too conversational. She wasn't supposed to have been all that into him.

“I know a good deal about you,” he said, and she could hear the smile on him.

His smile. A sigh pushed at her, but she kept it back. “I'm guessing you got my message.”

“Yeah, but I was hoping you were calling for another reason altogether.”

Wasn't he taking this seriously? “Cash, we're in a bad spot.”

“So I heard. Sounds like there's another deal that needs to be brokered.”

Oh, his voice. Low, rough, like a scraped caress.

“It's not the kind of brokering you're thinking of,” she said.

“And what could I be thinking?” He lowered his voice even more. “Of you flat on your back in my car? Of me inside you as you made those cute cat sounds and dug your fingernails into me? I think I have some scars, by the way.”

She couldn't help it. “Just more souvenirs for you.”

Sofia and Arden were clearly flummoxed at what they were hearing, and Molly wandered away from them. Some privacy, thank you.

Cash had been laughing in that gambler's way of his, and she smiled, holding the phone close until his laughter faded.

“So, about Jimmy Beetles . . .” she said softly.

“You want me to run interference with him.”

“Would you?”

“You know I'd do anything for you, Molly.”

An astonished laugh escaped her. He was joking around with her, teasing. Had to be.

“Cash,” she said, getting this back to firm footing, “this isn't something to take lightly. Arden's gotten sort of wild on this trip, and Sof and I are doing a lot of damage control. Can you just tell me how Jimmy Beetles would react if we were slightly late in giving him the payment?”

“You don't want to be late with Beetles. He's cold sober about his money, and he takes special pleasure out of wringing it out of tourists who come into the R and T. Last year, when a college kid from Phoenix blew off a big debt, Beetles used all the information he'd gotten from the guy during a friendly conversation and tracked him down on the Internet. When Jimmy read his address to him in a voice mail, the kid sent Beetles what he owed—and some extra.” Cash paused. “You never can be sure if Jimmy's serious about half of his tough talk, but I wouldn't mess with him, especially over seven thou. He's a biker who doesn't belong to a specific club, a nomad, and he'll hit the road in a second if he thinks he's got somewhere worth going.”

“Namely to the home of the person who owes him a lot of money.” She glanced back at her friends, who were watching her closely. She gave a thumbs-up, not really meaning it.

Then she turned back around. “We only have a fraction of what he needs.”

“Seven thousand is a pretty hefty total.”

“I know.” Was that hope springing in her? Could he help them out?

As Cash strung out another pause, she got the feeling he was figuring out a price for the favor he was about to grant. And didn't everyone have a price? Hadn't she found hers yesterday?

She climbed into a high chair by some empty gaming tables as people walked by, oblivious to this latest drama Arden had created. She could see outside, where misters welcomed people coming in from what was already a hot morning.

“Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?” she asked.

“That I'm gonna demand another date from you to make up for the effort—and losses—I'm experiencing with Arden? Yeah, I'm thinking that.”

Figured. But she held back a smile anyway as she laid down the law. “I promised you one night, and that's my limit, you know.”

“So, logistically, how're you going to get me the money you already have so I can give it to Jimmy Beetles?”

He thought of everything.

She sat up straight. “Wait. I thought you said Jimmy wouldn't accept less than he's owed.”

“That's not what I was saying at all.”

She squeezed shut her eyes, but his next words made them fly open.

“I'll make up the difference in what you owe him,” he said.

Molly almost fist-pumped. This would sure save Arden's butt. But what about Molly's? What was Cash expecting in return this time?

If he'd been her old boss, putting her in a situation in which she felt she owed him something in trade for keeping her job, she would've slapped his face—even over the phone. But this was Cash, and she yearned to see him again. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to be feeling, yet it was the only, consuming thing that mattered on this trip, in this fantasyland that was keeping her from the reality of what she had waiting for her at home: boredom. And maybe even some of that loneliness.

“Where do you want to meet so I can give you the money and we can iron out the rest of this?” she finally asked.

“I'll see you in front of Caesars in two hours. Look for my car.”

“You're taking me somewhere?”

“Why not? I figure a girl like you would probably want some lunch at that time of day. So I'm taking you to lunch, Molly P.”

Really? Okay.
That would give her time to do her phone interview with the accounting firm her coworker had set up. Also? Wow—lunch. How civilized. She wasn't hungry, but he wasn't being a pig and telling her outright that he wanted some afternoon delight in his car. Lunch sounded very reasonable, even if she didn't trust him about having ulterior motives.