Run To You

A group of gray-haired ladies crowded around a row of dollar slots and one of the machines making all the commotion. Beau moved toward the crowd on his way to the concierge desk. He needed to find a thick steak and a baked potato. The closer he got, the more annoying the flashing lights. A granny had hit pay dirt and probably won enough for her and her friends to party at the buffet. Big deal.
    “Holy frijole y freakin’ guacamole!”
    Beau stopped in his tracks and looked through the crowd, catching a glimpse of a familiar white tank top and shiny dark hair. Her fists pumped the air and she danced around like a prizefighter.
    “I never win anything!”
    A smile cracked Beau’s mouth as he glanced around the crowd surrounding Stella. Some grinned and congratulated her while a few were pinch-mouthed and gave her the evil glare. He laughed and moved toward her. That was Stella. Winning some friends and annoying others.
    “Beau!” She spotted his face above the crowd; maybe it was the booze or that he was getting older, slower, but before he knew quite how it happened, her arms were wrapped around his neck and his arms were around her waist. Her toes dangled above the casino floor and her front was smashed against his. “I hit the jackpot!”
    He felt a hot, lusty tumble low in his stomach and his head spun. And once again before he even thought it through, he planted a kiss on her soft, smiling lips. A kiss that lingered a little past friendly. “Congratulations, Boots.” It was the booze. Definitely the booze.
    She grinned at him and he felt it next to the tumble in his stomach, the spin in his head, and the hard-on in his pants. And just like the other night in the pool, everything narrowed and focused on her. Her blue eyes and soft mouth. The weight of her hands on his shoulders and the touch of her breasts pressed to his chest. Everything around him blurred except Stella, and he fought the demand of his lust. The demand that he lower his face to hers again. To feel her mouth against his and touch his tongue to hers.
    “I’ve never been this lucky.”
    He set her on her feet and dropped his hands to his sides even as his body demanded he grab her and show her lucky.
    S eventeen thousand dollars. After federal, state, and a three percent gaming tax were all deducted from Stella’s Lucky Seven winnings, she was left with just over seventeen thousand dollars.
    “I never win anything,” she said as she filled out the tax forms. She repeated her amazement as she got her picture taken with an oversize check for the casino’s Web site. She was still in shock an hour later as she sat in the padded leather booth at Ruth’s Chris Steak House inside the Hard Rock Casino. The tables were covered in white linen and set with china. A white linen napkin rested in Stella’s lap and she felt completely underdressed in her tank top and shorts. But one of her sundresses was dirty, and the other wrinkled.
    A pretty blond waitress set a plate filled with a lobster tail and asparagus in front of her, and she leaned back against the tall booth. “Thank you,” she said as she watched the woman set a T-bone and huge baked potato in front of Beau.
    “Can I get you two anything else?” the waitress asked them, but her attention was focused on Beau.
    He looked up and gave the woman a smile Stella had certainly never seen before. It creased the corners of his eyes, and if she didn’t know him, she’d think maybe his smile was charming. “I’m good. Thank you, Sarah.”
    “Okay, hon. Let me know if you need anything at all.”
    Hon? Stella watched the woman walk away and wondered what she saw when she looked at them. A handsome guy with a charming smile, and a woman in a tank top with hair that could probably benefit from a brush. She turned her attention to Beau across the table. “Do you know her?”
    He shook his head and picked up his fork and big steak knife. “She’s wearing a name tag.”
    Not that she cared what a woman she didn’t know thought of her, but she could buy some new clothes now. She smiled as she thought of the money she’d won. “I never win anything.” She picked up her own fork and knife, but she wasn’t all that hungry due to her excitement and the huge sandwich and chips they’d had for lunch.
    Beau swallowed a big bite of his potato and washed it down with his second glass of ice water. “You’ve said that about fifty times now.”
    “I know.” She couldn’t stop grinning.