Lucky In Love by Deborah Coonts Read Free Book Online Page B

“Sometimes I just need to wander, check the pulse of the hotel.”
    I followed his lead, turning my back to the bar and my face to my world.
    Understanding, I nodded as we both gazed on the crowd in silence. “Seriously, how do you keep that whole wild-sex-on-every-piece-of-furniture phase going?”
    “Should I be having this conversation with you?” My father, looking decidedly ill at ease, reached for his wallet. He extracted what I knew to be a hundred dollar bill and then replaced his wallet. Studiously avoiding my eyes, he began to crease and fold the paper. When under stress he turned to origami to calm his nerves. Funny he should need it now—sorta sweet.
    “Who else would I trust to not only understand me, but to care enough to soft-sell any bad news? Mother?”
    Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at me. “Good point.” He made a number of meticulous folds before continuing. “Can you give me a hint as to who might have put this particular burr under your saddle?”
    “I think I’m becoming cynical about love.”
    That got a huge grin out of him, which, to his credit, he tried to hide. “Honey, you still believe life is a Rodgers and Hammerstein movie. ‘Some Enchanted Evening’ is your theme song. I love the fact that you think true love is just going to swoop in someday.”
    “Like a buzzard, to pluck my heart out.” I watched a little figure take shape in his hands—a bird. Cute. “Stupid, huh?”
    “Charming. And encouraging.” He stopped a young couple as they walked in front of us. “Here.” He dropped the bird in the young woman’s hand and smiled at her delighted gasp of surprise.
    “One in the hand, right?” I commented as we watched the couple walk away, both of them talking excitedly, their heads bent together.
    “You and Miss P. What is it with you two and your clichés and platitudes?” My father angled his stool so his knees meshed with mine, and I could no longer avoid his eyes.
    “Ella says it’s a defense mechanism, along with the sarcasm,” I said, not even trying to sugarcoat it.
    My father’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “Ella has that kind of insight? Who knew?”
    “Our resident answer to Dr. Phil.” I took another sip of my Wild Turkey, this time a not-so-dainty one.
    My father took both of my hands in his. “Promise me one thing, Lucky.”
    “Sure.”
    “Don’t ever change.”
     
    * * *
     
    A fter finishing our drink over more benign talk, my father went in search of his true love, and I went looking for love in all the wrong places. The game show had finished taping all the interviews and the crowd now spilled into the casino. Throngs of people three-deep ringed every table, which put a spring in my step. Bringing folks into the hotel to spend money was the sole motivation behind subjecting myself to Trey Gold and his little band of cutthroat attention-seekers.
    Pausing by a row of slot machines, I absorbed the energy that shimmered off the crowd as I watched the scantily clad cocktails waitresses work the room. They moved quickly, with precision—as much to keep warm in their lack of clothing as to earn more tips. Shouts rang out from the tables, competing with the subtle come-on songs from the slot machines. Music with a pulsing beat served as an undercurrent to the enthusiasm. Basking in the glow of unfounded optimism, I spied a possible love match at one of the craps tables. I sidled up behind him and leaned close. “Hey, handsome, want to buy a little fantasy for the weekend?”
    Clearly Teddie had seen my stealth approach from behind and had decided to play along. At my whispered invitation, he spun around and grabbed me, burying his face in my neck. “Could you make room on your schedule for something longer than a weekend?” His words were muffled as he nibbled on my ear lobe, making me giggle.
    Giggling used to appall me—a personal affront to my dignity—but somehow I no longer felt that way. Giggling made me feel good.