2. Isla

isla

. . .

What the fuck am I doing?

Sam and I finish our drinks, and I call Jodi, who picks up on the first ring. "Bitch, where are you?"

"I'm, uh, going to go read books and get drunk with this guy I met at a bar," I reply, my eyes not leaving Sam's.

He laughs, shaking his head, whispering, "When you put it like that…"

"It's a trap," Jodi insists, making me chuckle. "He's seen too many posts on social media and knows how to get into a bookish girl's pants. Let me guess, he said he just wants to snuggle and read all night? Run!"

"Guess your plans are foiled, Sam," I giggle, and his brows pinch in confusion. I then tell Jodi, "I'll send my location, his Social Security number… Wait…" I jokingly ask Sam, "Do you have a Social Security number?" He chuckles, mouthing yes, and I swap back to Jodi to continue, "He does, but I'll send his address and a mug shot so you know I'm safe."

"If I don't hear from you in the morning, I'm sending SWAT to break down his door," she harrumphs.

"She says she'll have SWAT at your door in the morning," I whisper to him. I then tell Jodi, "Have fun with the girls! I'll see you at work and tomorrow night for the show."

"Fine," she groans. "You better get laid, though. Your pussy is going to shrivel up if you don't."

I sputter a cough, but I assure her, "That won't be happening, but thank you for your concern."

"See you tomorrow. Love you!"

"Love you, too." I hang up and snap an unflattering picture of Sam, sending it to her. She likes the photo and replies with a gif of Henry Cavill. There's little to no resemblance, but I'll take it that she finds him as attractive as I do.

"Are we doing this?" Sam asks. It's sincere, and I honestly think he's a bit of an introvert, feeling a bit out of place here like I do. "Sorry, but I'm far too excited about this. I'm in the middle of a novel that I've been wanting to get back to all night."

"It beats sticking around here." I glance down at my dress. "Only thing that's missing is pajamas."

"You can borrow mine," he offers.

"All right, let's do it."

With a beaming smile, Sam offers his arm, and I nestle my hand in the crook of his elbow. He leads us off the casino floor, out onto the strip, and into the parking garage for employees.

"We shouldn't be here, it's for employees."

"I work here."

"You work here? What do you do?"

"I perform at one of the shows."

"What?" I shriek, then quickly correct myself. "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way. Which show?"

"Well, I'm not telling you now," he laughs as we approach his car. I'm pleasantly surprised to see it's a modest sedan. The three dates I've been on since I moved here two weeks ago were with men who drove cars that were likely compensation for their tiny dicks. Not that I would know, I haven't had sex with anyone since my ex.

Fuck. What if we have sex? Does he want to have sex? What if I suck in bed? What if my pussy has shriveled up like Jodi suggested?

"Are you all right?" His question pulls me from my freak out.

"Yeah, sure," I reply, though my voice is shaky.

He takes my hand. "I can drive you home if you'd like?"

"No, sorry. I was just in my head for a minute. Honestly, I'd love a night when I can take off these gorgeous but uncomfortable heels and just be away from the busyness of the strip."

Sam opens the car door and gestures for me to get in. As I slide into the passenger seat, he turns me so my legs are out of the car. He drops to one knee and takes one of my ankles in his hand. "May I?" I nod, and he removes one heel and then the other, placing them on the floor of the car. He stands and braces himself with one hand above me and asks, "Better?"

"Yes," I breathe, suddenly consumed with the idea of him leaning in and kissing me. There's no way he's into me. We're basically going to his house for a fucking book club meeting.

But, maybe…?

He pivots me until my legs are back in the car and closes the door. Once he rounds the back, he slides into the driver's seat and starts the ignition. "Want to stop anywhere first?"

I bite my lip and shake my head. Sam's eyes darken, falling to my mouth, making me suck in a small breath. "No, I don't need to stop anywhere."

He blinks twice as if I broke some kind of spell between us. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I don't need to stop anywhere."

Sam pauses for a moment and asks, "Are you fucking with me?" He huffs a laugh, shaking his head before his gaze returns to mine. "You really want to come and spend the evening with me, curled up on my sofa with a book?"

"With gin," I add. "I was promised gin, but yes, I don't like casinos, or clubs, or bars, or any other public place that requires me to wear this." I gesture to my too-short dress.

His eyes drop to my bare thighs, but just as quickly snap back to my face. I bite my lip to keep from laughing at him checking me out, though I make no move to pull my skirt down. For a brief moment, my mind wanders, wondering what his hand would feel like clutching my leg. I squash the idea almost immediately. With my luck, we'll just be two bookworms spending time together, nothing more.

"Shall we?" he asks, and pulls out of the parking spot.

We drive a few short miles off the strip into a small residential neighborhood. There are mostly cookie-cutter track homes but we pull up to a more industrial apartment building. I take a quick picture of the address and send it to Jodi, making Sam chuckle.

Once we're parked, I reach for the handle, but he covers my hand with his, pulling it into my lap. Mere inches away, he could kiss me if he wanted to. Instead, he sits back and brings my knuckles to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against them before releasing my hand. "Allow me." I roll my eyes at the chivalry but allow him to open my door.

As he helps me out, he keeps my hand firmly in his as he leads me to either a mellow evening of reading, or the next episode of a missing person documentary. He slips the key into the lock and pauses, looking at me.

"What?"

"I just realized that my flat wasn't straightened up before I left tonight. I didn't expect guests."

I place my hand on his and continue turning the key, pushing the door open. "Trust me, it can't be any worse than mine. It's littered with moving boxes."

Sam pushes the door all the way open and turns on the light. I step inside, drop my heels by the front door, and am left in awe. The living room has no less than thirty plants—mounted on the wall, sitting on the table, hanging from the ceiling… While the greenery is a bit overwhelming, I'm rooted in place as I take in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that spans the wall.

"You live here?" I sigh wistfully.

He closes the door behind us and mutters, "I told you it was a bit of a mess."

I turn on my heel. "No, it's absolutely beautiful. You have your own little library." I pivot again and make my way to the small couch against one of the walls. As I take a seat, my hands slide over the fabric, and I take a moment to enjoy this little retreat he has built for himself.

Sam stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "It's home."

"Well, it's gorgeous."

"So are you," he blurts but clears his throat. "I mean, thank you."

Shit, is he actually into me?

"I, uh…" I look down at my sparkly dress and back at him. "Do you have something more comfortable to slip into?"

"Sure," he laughs, briefly licking his lip. "Make yourself at home, and I'll see what I can come up with."