Get Lucky by Lila Monroe Read Free Book Online Page B

accumulated quite a collection, but she still looks steady as anything. Taking a long drag on a cigarette, Meredith winks at us. “But if it’s a bachelorette party that makes my author money, I think it’s a great time.”
    “When are you due to walk down the aisle?” I ask.
    “Tomorrow. I’m half afraid we’ll all be too wasted to get married,” Stacy laughs. “Luckily, our hotel’s the venue.”
    “Which one?”
    “The Bellagio. Very Ocean’s 11 ,” she says proudly.
    A woman after my own heart.
    “I hope you have a lot of sexy shenanigans before the night’s over,” I tell her, putting my elbow on the bar and my cheek in my hand. I’m getting a little sleepy tipsy. It’s the kind of buzz where you either need to party harder and wake up a little, or you go home and go to sleep. I’m thinking it’ll be the latter, but then Stacy’s eyes light up.
    “Listen, why don’t you all come along?” Stacy says, bouncing excitedly in her seat. “We were thinking of maybe finding a Chippendale show somewhere.”
    “Oiled men with their shirts off, gyrating to music.” I put a hand over my heart in mock horror. “Do you really think I’m that kind of girl?”
    “Yep,” Stacy says. We both burst out laughing. I like this woman.
    “I’m absolutely down for anyone getting naked, of any gender,” Shanna says, grabbing her purse. “I’m all about equal opportunity for hot people.”
    “You’ve convinced me. Let’s go,” I say.
    Stacy whoops and nearly falls off her barstool. We all pay for our drinks and head for the door. The night air is sultry, still so warm that I’m starting to feel silly for having brought a sweater.
    Stacy fishes around in her purse, and a look of worry crosses her face.
    “You okay?” I ask her. Daphne, Meredith, and Toni are already dancing down the street, talking about a Mexican hat dance. I swear, this restaurant really doesn’t know all that much about Brazilian culture.
    “Shit. I forgot my phone. I left it.” She stops and smacks herself on the forehead. “Dammit! My fiancé has it.”
    “Here, type his number in my cell.” I hand her my trusty iPhone with its blue police box TARDIS case, and Stacy dials. While she talks to her fiancé, Shanna and I look at each other.
    “Are you ready for well-muscled, oiled men with their shirts off?” she asks.
    “Dirty jobs for dirty minds.” Our high five connects.
    “Bye, babe,” Stacy says, and hangs up. “Okay,” she says, handing over the phone. “Let’s just stay put. They’re coming for us in their car. It’ll be hard to miss— they’re rolling down the street in—”
    “Ahoy fair maidens! Let’s get shitfaced!”
    That voice sounds familiar. A stretch Hummer pulls up alongside the curb. A smiling, frosted hair tipped guy is standing out of the sunroof, waving enthusiastically. I remember him; Tyler, that nice bro type who was with Mike and . . . .
    Oh, fuck me. And not in the nice way, where I have two orgasms and someone makes me breakfast in the morning. The door opens, and Mike and that douche lizard Nate Wexler get out. At least this time, Tightass isn’t wearing his impeccable fucking suit. He’s in jeans and a black T-shirt. Looks kind of hot, honestly.
    I’m not staring. I don’t stare at jerks, even if they’re hot.
    “Hey babe,” Mike says, kissing Stacy as she throws her arms around his neck. “Needed a rescue?” He hands her a phone, grinning.
    “More like a pick-up from a studly man. I do my own rescuing, thank you so much,” she teases, and gives him another kiss. Mike laughs.
    I’ve spent enough time writing real love to know it when it’s standing right in front of me. I smile, though I have to force it a little when the Tightass Known As Nate walks over to me.
    “So. You’re joining us?” he asks, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
    Now that he’s closer, I get an even better look at his body in casual wear. And it’s probably the tequila talking, but he’s in