Dangerous Games: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by T. K. Leigh

  “Lobby tomorrow at eleven?” I arched a brow at Chloe when the elevator stopped on my floor. “Or maybe I should tell you 10:30 so you’ll be on time.”

  She playfully jabbed me in the side. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there. There’s no way in hell I’m missing my flight out of this godforsaken town.”

  “Good. Or I’m leaving without you. Because there’s no way in hell I’m missing my flight out of this godforsaken town.”

  “Goodnight, Izzy,” she sang, pushing me out of the car before the doors closed on me.

  “Night, Chloe,” I called back as I made my way toward my room.

  Once inside, I took a minute to relish in the tranquility. My ears still rang from the constant barrage of noise in the casino, but other than a faint conversation I could make out from the room next door, it was peaceful, the whirring of the air conditioner the only sound.

  An urgent need to wash off the remnants of tonight’s festivities, namely the showgirl lessons that came complete with full makeup, overtook me and I headed for the bathroom, starting the shower. After a few minutes of rigorously scrubbing my face, I felt like myself again. Not this dress-wearing, club-going girl I’d been the past few days.

  Emerging from the bathroom, I glanced at the clock to see it was just after eleven. I should have packed and gotten some sleep, but I wasn’t even close to being tired. As a nurse, I typically worked the night shift. Since I’d stayed out until the early hours of the morning all weekend, my body had remained on that schedule. So, instead of throwing on some pajamas, I slid on a pair of jeans and a black top, then left my room to explore the Vegas nightlife on my own. And hopefully find a low-key bar. After a weekend of nothing but overpriced, pretentious clubs, I needed a simple bar and a good beer.

  Most other women my age probably wouldn’t want to venture off on their own at night in Vegas, but I wasn’t most women. I liked being alone. Liked being able to do what I wanted when I wanted. Liked not having to depend on anyone else for my own happiness. That was the benefit of being an only child. An adopted only child. I became fiercely independent at an early age.

  I meandered along the casino floor, the tables overflowing with people trying their hand at blackjack, poker, or roulette, probably gambling away their life savings in the hopes of winning big. Cocktail waitresses in skintight dresses that barely covered their ass carried trays holding drinks. Despite having one of the top air filtration systems available, a thin layer of smoke seemed to fill the space, the stench of nicotine permanently ingrained in my nostrils. It was going to take days to get the stink out of my hair once I got home.

  As I wandered in search of a place where I could grab a decent beer, the sound of a live band cut through, a nice change from the typical thump of club music they blared all hours of the day. I looked in its direction, spying what appeared to be an Irish pub. I grinned at the familiarity. My mother would have admonished me for going to an Irish pub while in Vegas, considering I lived in New York and couldn’t trip without falling on yet another bar just like this one. That was probably what called me to this place. It reminded me of home.

  I stepped inside, everything about my surroundings seeming to go against what Vegas stood for. Yes, it was still a bar and the music was loud, but it wasn’t ostentatious. Wasn’t filled with women wearing as little clothing as they could get away with on the prowl for some poor schmuck to buy them overpriced drinks for the night. Wasn’t crawling with men dressed in suits who bathed in far too much cologne.

  I walked toward a long bar that sat along the wall and found a vacant stool. My eyes were drawn to the ceiling, dozens of bills of every currency pinned to it. A bartender approached and took my order for a beer, returning with a pint within seconds. I took a sip of the hoppy ale, exhaling at the flavor that seemed so foreign after the past few nights of only consuming mixed, saccharine drinks. This was exactly what I needed to feel normal again.

  I surveyed the darkened space, nothing flashy or unique about it. Just like every other bar I’d been to in my adult life, the lounge was filled with heavy wood tables, patrons enjoying a variety of drinks and bar food while they listened to live music. A large crowd filled the area in front of the stage, dancing to the band as they covered a Coldplay song. They were pretty good, much better than some of the artists getting airtime on the radio these days. I’d take rock music any day over the latest auto-tuned boy band who wouldn’t know how to hold a guitar if their life depended on it.

  The song ended and applause broke out, a few girls cheering and clapping enthusiastically. Déjà vu washed over me, like I’d been here before. In a way, I had. I’d once been one of those exuberant fans cheering for the local band, hoping they’d someday make it big. But that was a lifetime ago.

  “Thanks all,” the lead singer’s voice carried over the loud chatter and clanging of ice against glass. “We’re going to take a quick break, but before we do, we have a special guest who’s agreed to get up on stage with us tonight. Remember this name, folks, because in the next few months, you won’t be able to turn on your radios without hearing his music. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Asher York!”

  A gasp escaped, my eyes darting toward the stage. I froze, my brain unable to tell my lungs to breathe, my heart to beat, my body to move. All I heard was that name. It couldn’t be him, could it? How? I’d never been great at statistics, but the likelihood of the two of us being in the same bar in Las Vegas had to be… What? One in a million? A billion? It had to be someone else with the same name. Someone else who was also a musician. Someone else who was six-two, with dark hair and a smile that could melt panties.

  I told myself I was imagining it, that I was still stuck in the memories of my college days when my roommate and I would go to whatever club Asher’s band was playing and dance the night away. That must have been it. The reality of being in the same room as him seemed so far out of the realm of possibilities, especially considering the last I knew, he was a music teacher in the suburbs of Boston, playing the occasional gig on the weekends.

  Then again, the last time I had spoken to him was eight years ago.

  A lot could change in that amount of time.

  And when a figure jumped onto the stage and faced the crowd, I realized truer words had never been spoken, or thought. A lot could change in that amount of time. And Asher York had certainly changed.

  I watched with a mixture of intrigue and surprise as he grabbed an acoustic-electric guitar from a stand, plugging a cable into the end of the body. The man resembled the Asher York I once knew, but he was a far cry from the lanky man I remembered. And I definitely remembered him. Asher York wasn’t the kind of person anyone could forget.

  His broad chest pulled at the simple gray t-shirt, his biceps filling the sleeves quite nicely. His dark hair had grown out and had a sexy, disheveled vibe, the perfect complement to the scruff along his jaw. But that wasn’t the biggest change. Oh no. As if he weren’t rock god personified with the longer hair and muscular physique, he had to add tattoos to the fantasy.

  I should have left. Paid for my beer. Headed back to my room. The last thing I needed was to reopen old wounds. And seeing Asher did just that. But like the first time my college roommate dragged me to a club to see a local band that was gaining in popularity, I was drawn to the man’s rough, emotion-filled voice.

  I stared at my beer, concentrating on the melody. It sounded familiar, like a cloudy memory trying to return to the surface of my subconscious. The longer I listened, the more clear it became. By the time he sang the first chorus, it hit me. It was the same melody I’d heard him toil over endlessly during those late summer nights we stayed up together at his grandmother’s lake house, while my then fiancé slept inside.

  Who also happened to be Asher’s brother.

  During the two years I’d dated Jessie, I was welcomed into his family with open arms. That included spending a few weeks of the summer at the lake house. It was actually one of the things I missed most when we broke
up. The card games. The smell of burgers on the grill. Spending the early morning hours listening to Asher pluck away at his guitar as he attempted to piece together a song.

  This song.

  Allowing my dark hair to cascade in front of my face in the hopes that Asher didn’t recognize me in the crowd, I risked a glance at him. He seemed to have cast a spell on everyone here, just as he did all those years ago. People bobbed their heads in time with the song, one I’d heard more times than I cared to admit, the familiar chords akin to coming home after a long absence.

  I was transfixed as I listened to him sing about feeling like he was made for a particular woman, but she never saw him until it was too late. I didn’t realize my eyes were glued to his every move until deafening applause thundered around me. The girls who had preened before the lead singer of the other band mere minutes ago now fawned over Asher.

  He smiled that breathtaking smile of his as he thanked the crowd, still as enigmatic a presence as always. His gaze floated over the throng, coming to an abrupt stop when he locked eyes with mine. I tried to look away, but the simple act of our gazes meeting turned me to stone, apart from the fluttering in my chest. It shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have had any reaction to him. But I did. I had from the first time I saw him across a packed club in Boston.

  Snapping out of my stupor, I refocused my attention on my beer and drained it. I grabbed a bill from my wallet and left it on the counter, not caring about getting any change. The excessive tip was a price I was willing to pay to keep the past buried. To keep my secret buried.

  I was about to jump down from the stool when a hand on the bar next to me stopped me.

  “Running off without even saying hi?”

  My eyes darted up, coming face-to-face with Asher York. His voice was even smoother than I remembered. A husky sound that hit places on my body that hadn’t felt excitement in an eternity.

  I parted my lips, attempting to come up with a response, but I was rendered speechless when I caught a glimpse of his arm leaning on the bar, the position causing his biceps to flex and push against the confines of his t-shirt, stretching the fabric.

  A woodsy scent surrounded me as I stared, the smell reminding me of large family dinners, playing guitar on the dock overlooking the lake on his grandmother’s property, roasting marshmallows. Reminded me of a girl I used to be. One I’d tried to keep in the past.

  Swallowing down the bittersweet memories, I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, forcing a smile. “Asher. Good to see you.” I held my head high, looking anywhere but directly into his eyes. I couldn’t. He had the same eyes as Jessie. Born eleven months apart, their appearance had always been strikingly similar. But that was where their similarities ended, the brothers as opposite as two people could be. Regardless, I’d never met siblings as close as they were. Or maybe I’d found it so foreign since I was an only child.

  “Phew.” He blew out a breath, laughing shakily. “I wasn’t positive it was you. I thought it was, but everyone in this town seems to look like someone else.”

  I shrugged, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s me.”

  “Good. That would have been awkward otherwise.” A flirtatious smile curved up the corners of his lips. He even had the same smile as Jessie. But Asher’s looked more natural, like he was actually happy. “What are you doing in Vegas?” he continued when I didn’t immediately say anything.

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  He nodded at the stage. “Music.” He didn’t embellish. “Your turn.”

  “Bachelorette party. Hannah’s getting married next month, and Bernadette was in charge of planning her bachelorette party.”

  A look of understanding crossed his face. “Say no more.”

  As uneasy as it should have been to see Asher again, considering his connection to a time in my life I would have preferred to keep in my rearview mirror, it was refreshing to talk to someone who already knew me, scars and all. Someone I didn’t have to go into all the details of my life with because he already knew. Hell, he’d been present during some of them.

  “Cash you out, miss?” the bartender’s voice cut through.

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Actually,” Asher interrupted before the bartender could retreat with my money, “she’ll have another. And I’ll have an IPA.” He placed a finger on the cash I’d left on the bar and slid it back in front of me. “Put all her drinks on my tab.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I insisted, attempting to push the bill back toward the bartender. “I really should be going. It’s been a long night and I—”

  The heat coming off him as his hand wrapped around my arm stopped me mid-sentence. I flung my wide eyes to his, my insides vibrating at his touch.

  “Stay.”

  One word, and my mouth went dry.

  One word, and my heart pounded in my chest.

  One word, and I forgot all the reasons I should leave.

  “Okay.” I slowly slunk back into my barstool.

  What harm would one drink with an old friend be?

  Chapter Three

  Present Day

  Turns out, one drink did lead to a lot of harm. Not only to Jessie, but to my heart. And Asher’s.

  In my life, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but sleeping with Asher in Vegas tops them all. With his invitation to stay, the web was cast, each minute we spent together another string tethering me to him until it was nearly impossible to walk away.

  But we had no choice but to do just that, considering who we were to each other.

  “Earth to Izzy,” a familiar voice cuts through. I meet Nora’s sky blue eyes as we sit at a bar by Columbus Circle for our traditional Thursday evening get-together. I almost didn’t come tonight, but after Jessie’s proposition, I need a night with my girls, need some sort of normalcy.

  “Sorry.” I smile half-heartedly. “Must have spaced out.”

  “Are you okay?” She places a hand on my forearm. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

  “Just thinking about one of the kids at work.” I hate using my patients as an excuse when it’s Jessie’s proposition that weighs heavy on my mind. I shouldn’t give it a moment’s thought. There is absolutely nothing good that can come out of seeing Asher York again. But I can’t forget Jessie’s insistence that I’m his last resort…and Asher’s last chance.

  “I can’t imagine doing what you do.” A sympathetic expression crosses her face. “It must take its toll.”

  I swallow hard, nodding, sipping my vodka tonic. I shift my eyes to Evie, who sits on the other side of Nora. “Is Chloe still at the office?”

  She furrows her brows. “She hasn’t been in all week.”

  “She hasn’t?”

  “No. I assumed she would have told you. Lincoln surprised her with a trip to Vegas, since this week marked the one-year anniversary of them hooking up during that blackout.”

  I take another sip of my drink, trying to act as if that fact hasn’t also been on my mind the past few days. Yes, it’s the anniversary of Chloe and Lincoln hooking up when we were stranded in Vegas during a blackout, but it’s also the anniversary of me sleeping with Asher, an event I was confident I’d put behind me once I left the city of sin. That was before Jessie walked back into my life.

  “She won’t be here?”

  “No. She’s coming.” Evie looks at her watch. “She should be here any—”

  As if on cue, a whirlwind of blonde hair flies through the doors, heading straight toward us. “Sorry I’m late,” Chloe exhales, dropping her purse on the bar and signaling the bartender for her normal martini before assuming her seat.

  “How was Vegas?” Evie asks, leaning toward her, her green eyes alight with anticipation.

  “Yeah. How was Vegas?” I repeat, my tone almost accusatory.

  Chloe looks my way, a silent apology in her gaze. I know why she didn’t mention it to me. I may have spent the past year insisting I rarely thought of my one night with Asher, b
ut she can see the truth. That even though it was only one night, it’s been impossible for me to truly forget. Even more so now that Asher York has become a household name.

  “Actually…,” she begins, addressing Evie and Nora, “I have a newfound appreciation for that city.”

  “I did find it odd you’d willingly go to Vegas,” Nora interjects, knowing all too well how much Chloe despises everything to do with that place. Next to me, Nora’s known Chloe the longest, having been roommates their freshman year of college.

  “Yes, well, I suppose it took meeting the right guy to change my mind. And he’s changed my mind on a lot of things. Like this.” With a blinding smile, she holds her left hand toward us, a large diamond on a very important finger. But that’s not all. In addition to the ring sits a double band on either side.

  We all simultaneously gasp.

  “You’re married?” Evie shrieks.

  Chloe nods excitedly as we all take turns examining the stunning setting.

  “That’s amazing!” Nora adds, flinging her arms around her. “And I’m not even the least bit upset you got married without telling us.” She pulls back, holding her at arm’s length. “It’s perfect. Exactly what I’ve always imagined your wedding would be like. Crazy. Untraditional. Private. Like you.”

  “I’m happy for you,” I offer, although my words lack any enthusiasm.

  With Chloe’s marriage to Lincoln, coupled with Evie’s wedding to Julian late last year and Nora’s to Jeremy last summer, I’m now the odd one out. The only one in our circle who isn’t married. The only one who’s so far away from the sound of wedding bells I may as well pack my bags for the convent.

  Chloe reaches across the bar, grasping my hand in hers, and we share a look. It’s strange to think of her as married. She’s always been fiercely independent, vehemently anti-relationship. Until Lincoln weaseled his way into her heart.