The Dating Games Series Volume One

by T. K. Leigh

  “I guess that’s our cue to leave,” he remarks, finishing his beer.

  “I suppose it is.”

  I slide off my barstool, but my heel catches on a leg, propelling me forward. Asher reacts quickly, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me upright…directly into his body.

  His warm, firm body.

  Every inch of me instantly buzzes to life as a thrilling sensation washes over me, leaving me nearly breathless. This isn’t the first time Asher’s held me. Hell, it’s not the first time he’s broken my fall, preventing me from making a complete fool out of myself. But it’s never felt like this. Like my insides are ready to ignite from the electricity coursing through me.

  I tilt my head back and peer into his eyes that glisten under the bright lights of the bar. His chest expands a little more with every inhale. The motion is subtle, but I notice it. Just like I notice the swipe of his tongue along his bottom lip, moistening them. The slight flaring of his nostrils. The awe and curiosity in his stare. Does he feel this, too?

  “You okay?”

  Eyes the shade of whiskey skate over my frame before returning to mine. He makes no immediate move to drop his hold on me. In fact, he seems to draw me even closer, his fingers thrumming against the exposed flesh between my jeans and top, his touch a ray of sun on that first spring-like day. So unexpected. So surprising. Yet still very welcome.

  “Izzy?” he presses when I don’t immediately respond, lost in the tremors the mere sensation of his arms wrapped around me kindles. His voice pulls me back to the present, reminding me who I am. Who he is.

  Just like he reminded me all those years ago.

  I push out of his embrace, increasing the distance. “Those beers must have caught up to me. I should have eaten something.”

  I smooth my hands over my shirt, pulling it down so no more skin shows around my waistband. Fidgeting with the hem, I rock on my heels, the way he’s staring at me unnerving, like he can read my thoughts and is about to recite a list of reasons we can never be together. I am more than aware of those reasons. I don’t need a recap of them.

  “Well…” I scramble to push past him. “It was good seeing you. Thanks for the beers.”

  I hold my breath as I make my escape, about to ring the victory bell when I hear his voice call out, “Want to grab a bite to eat?”

  I come to an abrupt stop, blinking. I slowly glance over my shoulder. “What was that?”

  He averts his gaze, scraping a hand through his hair. Asher’s never been the nervous type. More brooding, mysterious, aloof. I’d lost count of the number of girls I’d witnessed fawning over him whenever his band had a gig. But he never seemed to notice them.

  “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just enjoyed spending time with you again and wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. But you’re right. You probably should—”

  “Yes,” I interrupt before he can finish his statement.

  His brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

  I fully face him. “Yes, I’d like to grab a bite to eat. With you.”

  “Are you sure? You’re not too tired?”

  I pass him a sardonic look. “Were you not paying attention to a single word I said tonight? I’m a nurse. My body’s used to staying up late.”

  A dazzling smile flashes across his features. “So you’re still a night owl? Even all these years later?”

  I shrug. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Well then…” Approaching, he extends his arm toward the exit. “Shall we?”

  “We shall.” I make my way onto the casino floor, which is even busier than it was earlier. It doesn’t seem to faze these people that it’s after two in the morning. They’re still slamming back drinks, which causes them to be more reckless with their money.

  I’ve never been a gambler. Hell, I don’t think I’ve so much as put a single bill into a slot machine the entire time I’ve been here. Living in Manhattan with the high rent doesn’t give me much wiggle room to throw away money on frivolities.

  I allow Asher to take the lead through the casino, but make sure to keep some space between us. Regardless, there’s still a buzz in the air. As we pass a group of men in their twenties dressed in dark shirts and jeans, their hair slicked back, their musky cologne overpowering, a few of them eye me up and down, lasciviously licking their lips.

  Asher steps closer and rests his hand on my lower back, his protective nature flaring. “You really should be careful walking around this place at night. Especially alone.” He narrows his disapproving gaze on me, which is riddled with concern.

  “I can take care of myself.” I roll my eyes. “And for the record… I walk around Manhattan at night all the time.”

  “I’m more than aware you can take care of yourself, Iz. If I remember correctly, there was an incident at one of the festivals our band played where you managed to bring some schmuck who attempted to hit on you to his knees. It was the highlight of the gig.”

  I laugh, surprised at his memory of one particular performance when he’s played hundreds, maybe even thousands. Then again, he is an artist. He crafts beautiful melodies with heartfelt lyrics. He probably remembers everything about everyone, pulling inspiration from everywhere he can.

  “You still remember that?”

  “How could I forget? It was all anyone talked about for weeks. About how tiny Isabella Nolan took down the star quarterback.”

  “What can I say? My father refused to send me away to college unless I took self-defense classes. When that prick wouldn’t take no for an answer and tried to make a move on me, I knew exactly how to send him to his knees. There’s nothing as effective as an open palm to the nose and a knee in the groin to knock out your opponent.” I playfully waggle my brows, following him outside to the valet stand, where he hands a ticket to an attendant.

  The instant I step into the chilly night air, a shiver rolls through me. I rub my arms. While the temperature has been above average for January, according to several of the locals I’ve spoken to, nighttime is still on the cooler side. When I’d dressed earlier, I hadn’t expected to go outside. I didn’t expect to run into Asher York, either, yet here I am.

  “Take this.” He shrugs out of his leather jacket and places it over my shoulders, leaving himself in just a t-shirt. A few women in tight dresses whistle as they walk past, ogling him.

  I’d like to say seeing his muscular arms doesn’t have the same effect on me, but it would be a lie. His physique is one you can’t help but admire. Not too bulky, yet not just skin and bones, either. His arms are ones you crave to have wrapped around you. Arms you hurry home to after a long day. Arms you subconsciously seek out in the middle of the night as you sleep peacefully.

  “Thanks,” I say in a small voice, tugging his jacket closer, savoring the warmth. I inhale deeply, the material smelling like Asher — a woodsy, citrus scent. It’s refreshing to know some things never change.

  “Only out in the desert does it go from eighty degrees during the day to the forties and fifties at night.” He looks up to the sky, the stars barely visible against the bright lights of Vegas. On a long exhale, he returns his eyes to mine. “But it beats all the snowstorms back east.”

  “You’ve got that right. The last few winters have been rough. I’ve lost count of the number of times I slept at the hospital so I wouldn’t miss my shift. Or so I wouldn’t have to try to find my way home in the middle of a blizzard.”

  “It’s been that bad?”

  I nod. “We’ve had some big storms that dropped upwards of a foot, sometimes more. If it’s only a few inches, it’s not that bad. But when we get that much snow, the city has trouble keeping up with shoveling and plowing, especially where I live.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “Tribeca. It’s—”

  “I know where it is. Jessie…” He stops short, wide eyes flinging to mine.

  It’s the first time either of us have brought him up, our very own elephant in the room. I’ve thought of Jes
sie throughout the night. How could I not when spending time with Asher? But now that his name is out there, an awkward tension has made itself known, coiling around and squeezing the life out of what, mere minutes ago, was a fun, lighthearted evening.

  “I mean…” He stammers, trying to recover, apprehensive about Jessie’s presence between us. “I played a few gigs in the city before I moved out west.”

  A small ball of guilt lodges in my stomach. We’ve both moved on, both dated other people. But those other people weren’t his older brother. His own flesh and blood. Granted, Asher and I aren’t dating, nor will we ever, but I know how Jessie is. He’ll grow suspicious if he learns Asher was with me, even if merely as a friend. Just like I know Asher’s struggling with his own thoughts of betrayal.

  “Here we are,” Asher announces, his voice brightening. Perhaps out of relief.

  I look up to see a classic red Mustang convertible rounding the corner. “Is that yours?” I blink repeatedly, gaping at the stunning vehicle rumbling our way, the beautiful purr of the engine like a siren’s call.

  “And if it is?”

  “That car is…” I shake my head. “Wow. My dad would lose his shit if he learned you were driving one. And by lose his shit, I mean he’d try to con you out of it. It’s… What? A sixty-five?”

  “Sixty-four.”

  “Damn. My dad would definitely try to con you out of it.”

  I follow him toward the passenger side, my eyes soaking in the beauty before me. And I’m not the only one. Every male within the vicinity has stopped, their attention drawn to the sleek lines of the car instead of their dates. It’s not something you see every day.

  “He always did have a thing for old cars, didn’t he?” Asher holds my elbow, helping me into the passenger seat before making his way around to the driver’s side. “Want me to put the top up?”

  “I’ll be fine. I should take advantage of the fresh air while I can, even if it is a little chilly.”

  He slides into his seat with ease, pressing his foot against the clutch before shifting into first. I tug his jacket tighter around my body, the wind cutting against my face. But I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Hair whipping in front of me. The Vegas lights blinking all around me. And Asher York sitting beside me. It’s a completely unexpected turn of events. Then again, the best things in life often are.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asher shouts over the noise of the wind and engine as he merges onto the interstate. “I can pull over and put up the top.”

  “I’m fine,” I yell back. “But I thought we were going to get something to eat.”

  “We are.” He flashes me a devious grin before returning his attention to the road.

  “Where? The Strip is—”

  “Do you think all this town has to offer is located on Las Vegas Boulevard?”

  I shrug. “Pretty much.”

  “Trust me. There are a few hidden gems.”

  “Is that where you’re taking me? To a hidden gem?”

  “Absolutely. A hidden gem for a hidden gem.”

  Chapter Three

  “They have red velvet pancakes?” Excitement oozes from my voice as I scan the menu that seems to have everything someone looking for a post-bar snack could ask for.

  I’ve been to my fair share of late-night diners. This place is like a late-night diner on steroids. Red velvet pancakes. Amaretto french toast. Hell, if you wanted to go big, you could get a filet mignon. Even the ambience is a far cry from the grungy diners I’m used to. It’s more reminiscent of a trendy supper club from back in the day. In fact, it probably was. Booths line the walls, white cloth-covered tables filling the rest of the open space. The lighting is on the dark side, all the windows tinted, presumably to make everyone forget that dawn is slowly approaching. As would be expected in this town, the bar serves alcohol twenty-four/seven.

  Viva Las Vegas.

  “And they are delicious,” Asher comments. “In fact, you can’t go wrong here. Everything they serve is incredible.”

  “So you come here often?” I ask in a fake seductive voice, grateful we’re back to the way things have always been with us. Light. Fun. Easy. No more talking about Jessie.

  “Actually, I do.”

  His response piques my interest. “Do you play a lot of gigs out here?”

  “You could say that,” he answers after a moment of contemplation.

  “How long of a drive is it from LA?”

  He brushes his thumb along his chin, looking into the distance before shifting his eyes back to mine. “About four hours. Depending on traffic.”

  “Kind of like living in the Tri-state area.”

  “It’s even worse in LA. At least in New York, the public transportation system is great. You could just hop on Metro-North.”

  “Which is what I do, since it only takes… What? An hour?”

  “No such luck in LA. If you want to get anywhere in the area, you’re stuck driving.”

  “There’s no subway system at all?”

  “There’s the metro, but it’s not convenient and doesn’t go everywhere most people need it to. It’s nowhere near as convenient and widespread as the subway in New York. Or the T up in Boston.” A hint of his accent slips in when his mouth caresses the name of the city he once called home. It was never overpowering or annoying, as was the case with some of the guys I met when I moved to Boston for college. It’s subtle, an acknowledgment of his roots. One I hope he never loses.

  “Well…” I lean back into the booth. “At least you have an incredible car to be stuck in traffic in.”

  “I can’t complain about that. Actually, I—”

  “Here are your drinks,” our petite blonde waitress interrupts, placing a Bloody Mary in front of me and a coffee in front of Asher.

  I felt a little guilty ordering an alcoholic drink, since he’s not drinking, but I needed something to take the edge off after the way my body reacted to his arms around me. And the Bloody Marys coming out of the bar looked too good to pass up. Shrimp. Bacon. Blue cheese-stuffed olives. It’s a drink that was made for me.

  “Are you ready to place your orders?”

  “I am,” Asher replies confidently, without even opening the menu to peruse the options. Then he looks at me. “Do you know what you’d like?”

  I close my menu, holding it toward our waitress. “I can’t resist. Red velvet pancakes.”

  “Good choice,” she assures me before shifting her attention to Asher. “And for you?” She bats her lashes, her smile turning from polite to coquettish when she steals a glance at his tattoo-covered arms.

  I never thought I’d be the type of girl who’d be interested in a guy with tattoos. I certainly shouldn’t be interested in this one. But I can’t dismiss the pang of jealousy rolling through me at the thought of this stranger ogling Asher. I try to tell myself it’s because he’s a friend, that I want what’s best for him and this woman isn’t it. But that didn’t cause me to be jealous of anyone Asher dated while I was with Jessie. I’d even attempted to set him up with one of the girls in my dorm, thinking they’d be perfect for each other. She was a music major with a voice that was a combination of Adele and P!nk. I had listened to her go on about how great of a kisser he was, how much she loved his body. Not one flare of jealousy. But now, the mere idea of someone flirting with Asher has me glowering, judging everything about this complete stranger when I normally don’t judge anyone.

  He orders steak and eggs, which includes a filet mignon instead of a skirt steak, as is the case at most diners. The waitress lingers a few extra seconds, smiling coyly at Asher. Then she spins from us, and I can’t help but think she’s swaying her hips a little more than necessary.

  “She wants you,” I observe once she’s a safe distance away. I take a much-needed sip of my Bloody Mary, which is as delicious as it looks.

  “No, she doesn’t.” He pours a bit of milk into his coffee, skipping the sweetener altogether. Just like I remember. It’s comfor
ting to know some things haven’t changed. “She was just being friendly. Probably hoping for a good tip.”

  “Right…,” I say in a drawn-out voice, rolling my eyes. Speaking of things that never change…

  It didn’t matter how blatant the girls who fawned all over him were. He always brushed them off. He dated, but he never seemed to have the same passion about any of them as he did his music.

  “Your girlfriend must hate going to your gigs, knowing the women in the audience will drool all over you.” I swipe the condensation off the side of my glass.

  He rests his forearms on the table between us, leaning toward me. His eyes darken, almost leering. The light, carefree atmosphere we’ve enjoyed since we arrived here vanishes. My gaze locks with his, meeting that same wanton stare he’d regarded me with as he held me in his arms. But this time it’s even more pronounced. More shameless. More devious.

  “What makes you say that?” he asks in a low tone, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip.

  My core clenches, blood rushing to my cheeks. This reaction is so wrong. On so many levels. But there’s no denying the hunger bubbling within me. The electricity sparking in the air between us. As much as I want to blame it on the lack of male companionship over the past few months, I can’t. I know the truth. That my body has always acted this way around Asher. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it for what it was. What it still is. A connection even the passing of years couldn’t fracture. In fact, it’s only made it stronger.

  “I—” I stammer, fumbling for a response that doesn’t give away how out of sorts I am.

  “Oh, come now. I’ve never known you to be tongue-tied, Isabella,” he remarks smoothly, a different side of Asher. “Tell me.” His voice turns gruff, causing the hairs on my nape to stand on end. My heart rate increases. My head becomes foggy. The background noise fades away, like this is a dream. Maybe it is.