Off Limits Read online

  Head down, she walks out of the motel room without a backward glance at the man. There’s a swagger in the man’s step that’s missing from the woman’s rapid departure.

  I stare until they’re gone, because the scene bothers me. The waitress looked seriously upset. Obviously, she and this guy are having some sort of liaison. What’s disturbing, aside from the fact that the woman didn’t look happy, is that I think the guy is one of the executives from the casino who trolls Gen’s lounge.

  I shake my head. I have too much to worry about without piling on creepy Casino Real World drama.

  The errands take less time than I anticipated and I return to the house early—seconds before Gen returns with Jaeger.

  My timing sucks.

  Jaeger walks around the hood of his truck and nods. “Cali,” he says, a happy little smile curling his mouth. He walks with Gen toward the front door, but reaches over as he passes me and grabs one of the large grocery bags from my arms. “Let me get that.” He relieves me of the second bag as well.

  “Okaaay.” I should be grateful for the help, but Jaeger looks too pleased after his date with my best friend and I’m trying extremely hard not to be jealous.

  It’s not working.

  I follow them inside the cabin, and Jaeger sets the groceries on the counter.

  Gen and Jaeger look at me and then at each other, a secret message passing between them. Gen grins warmly at Jaeger, and that’s all I need to see.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” I say, and cross to the back door. I want to be anywhere but watching the two of them say their lovey goodbyes.

  “I’ll see you later, Gen,” I hear Jaeger say as I open the back door and step out onto the patio.

  Gen joins me seconds later. “Hey.” There’s a quiver in her voice that only comes out when she’s nervous. “What have you been up to?”

  What have I been up to? I’m fucking dying, trying to keep busy because you’re with the guy I want to kiss and make out with and glue myself to!

  I wave toward the bags of groceries warming on the kitchen counter. “Errands.”

  Gen sits in the lounge chair beside me and pulls up her knees, feet flat on the plastic.

  “How about you. How was your date?”

  She looks over nervously. “Fine. It wasn’t a date, though. We were just getting together. He wanted to show me something.”

  I’m sure he did. She doesn’t elaborate, and I’m feeling too stubborn to ask for more information.

  “Cali, I was wondering—can I have that sketch you did today?”

  What? That’s what she’s thinking about? We are seriously in two different worlds right now. In fact, there’s a deep chasm in our friendship that I’m responsible for. If I hadn’t dragged Gen to Lake Tahoe this summer, none of this would have happened. Eric and I probably would have broken up, but at least I wouldn’t be in a love triangle with my best friend.

  “Why?” I ask, because the request seems odd under the circumstances. There’s no way Gen can’t feel the strain in our friendship. Or maybe, because I’m the one who caused the problem, I’m the only one who knows it exists. I never ’fessed up to my feelings for Jaeger. I’ve been too busy denying them.

  She brushes nonexistent dirt off her shorts. “I don’t know. I just liked it.”

  “Sure, Gen,” I say harshly, rising as I do. I’m taking out my anger on her and she doesn’t deserve it, but I can’t help myself. “Have whatever of mine you want.” I walk inside the house, grab the pad, and toss it on her lap.

  Her lips part, her expression shocked.

  I don’t say anything. I don’t put away the groceries. I simply walk out the front door and leave.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After spending three hours throwing hand-sized rocks into the lake, I returned home with a sore arm and apologized to Gen for going off on her. I told her I’d had a bad day, and though she inquired as to the cause, she didn’t insist I elaborate when I made it obvious through avoidance tactics that I didn’t want to discuss it.

  Gen said her afternoon with Jaeger wasn’t a date, but why would Jaeger ask her out if he wasn’t interested? And he seemed so happy afterward. I’m not convinced there isn’t something there. Gen could be saying it wasn’t a date because they just started hanging out. I can’t tell her how I feel about Jaeger until I know nothing is between them. I pushed her to date him; I won’t put her in the uncomfortable position of having to choose between us.

  Jaeger has come into the casino a couple of times this week to visit Mason since his non-date with Gen. Each time, he’s kept to Mason’s bar, which gives credence to Gen’s assertion that they’re not dating, though she is busy at work. And every time he’s around, my heart quickens and my body heats. No matter what I tell myself—that it won’t work out, I screwed things up and he’s not interested—my body’s visceral response doesn’t care. It’s infuriating.

  I just got out of a relationship; I should be going all introspective and loner. At the very least, deciding whether or not to follow through with grad school. Instead, I’m conflicted about school and thinking clearly about the kind of guy I want in my life.

  Eric was good-looking, but shallow and—I realize now—selfish. Why I think Mr. Totem Pole Carver is any better is beyond me, but there’s something about him that’s deep and a little scarred. Like he’s been through shit and come out on the right side. This, in addition to the fact that puddles of drool form in my mouth whenever I look at him, and I’m drawn—even though he may be dating my best friend.

  Gen and Jaeger might not be dating—yet—but she could like him. I never told Gen how I felt about him. Nope, I pushed him right in her path. In my defense, that was before I realized my feelings for him were real and not because of how crappy things were with Eric. This last incident with Gen’s ex was just bad timing. Maybe that’s all Jaeger and I will ever have—bad timing.

  This evening, Jaeger’s been in Gen’s lounge for the last hour with an attractive, slightly older woman with long, dark hair and a petite figure. At first, I thought she was one of his mom’s friends by the way they greeted each other—cordially, but with familiarity. She’s dressed in a black sheath dress with diamonds the size of pebbles in her ears. She’s younger than his parents, but her expensive attire fits his parents’ upper economic bracket. The more I observe, though, the less certain I am that they’re only friends.

  A man in dress slacks and a polo shirt passes my table and walks up the stairs into the lounge to Jaeger and the woman. The pretty brunette places a proprietary hand on Jaeger’s arm and introduces the two men.

  I glance at Gen, who laughs at something her customer says. She’s not paying attention to the Jaeger tableau, and I can’t understand it. I’d like to detach the roulette table and mow the lady he’s sitting with down like a bowling pin, and Gen’s all casual, easygoing. What the eff?

  Jaeger shakes the man’s hand and offers him a card.

  He carries business cards? For his totem poles?

  Jaeger is dressed in dark slacks and a white collared shirt, the top button undone and revealing the edge of a white undershirt. I’ve never seen him dressed up and the image disturbs me. His wide shoulders strain the fabric along his chest, highlighting muscles while still looking professional. He makes weathered jeans and T-shirts unbelievably hot, but dressed up, he’s like GQ photo-spread man candy.

  The woman he’s with seems too old for him, but I have to admit they look good together, and it’s eating me up inside. The only positive I can think of at the moment is that Gen and I get off early tonight and our shift is about to end.

  A cluster of new dealers approaches the pit and I finish my round. Before heading to the basement, I walk over to Gen. “You almost off?” I don’t glance at Jaeger, seated in the corner.

  Gen piles four shots of bright green liquid on her tray. “In a minute—just need to deliver these. You still up for the club?”

  In spite of a herculean effort not to, my ga
ze strays toward Jaeger. The business associate has left and the woman has her fingers on his forearm, using his body for support while she leans in to tell him something. “Yes. I need—something.”

  Gen’s eyes widen in approval. “I’m so happy you aren’t letting things with Eric get you down.” She charges off and passes out the last of her drinks, closing tabs.

  Eric? Nope, not thinking about Eric—a testament to the tenuous connection we shared and proof it wasn’t meant to last.

  Gen returns to the bar and wipes her tray. “You sure you don’t mind if Nessa joins us?”

  “No,” I say absently. “Hey—” I shrug my shoulder in Jaeger’s direction. “That doesn’t bother you?”

  Gen glances over. “What, Jaeger and that woman? Why would it?”

  “I thought you guys were, you know, hanging out.”

  Her gaze flutters to me, and her shoulders tense as though she’s uncomfortable. “We’re friends.”

  Gen hands a stack of dollar bills to the bartender. Waitresses give bartenders a percentage of their tips at the end of their shifts. She turns to me. “Ready to go?”

  Gen and I generally tell each other everything, but lately, that doesn’t seem to be true. Each of us seems to be holding something back. I’m not ready to disclose my feelings for Jaeger, and I’ve sensed for a while that Gen’s keeping something from me too.

  We change in the Blue basement, where we discover Nessa has invited someone else to our girls’ night. Lewis’s beautiful girlfriend, Mira, will be joining us.

  This should be interesting.

  I’m wearing heels, skinny jeans, and a blousy, low-cut tank. Gen’s in slim jeans as well, but her top is less revealing. Her boobs are bigger than mine, but she refuses to display them to full advantage.

  The only way to get to the Blue nightclub is by passing the lounge. I tell myself I won’t peek, but of course I do. Jaeger is still sitting with the pretty woman, his head bowed toward her as she leans on his arm and speaks near his ear.

  I clench my fist, nails grinding into my palm. He hasn’t once acknowledged Gen or me this evening. I wouldn’t have pegged Jaeger for a player, but flirting with me, then taking Gen out, and now hooking up with an older woman? What the hell?

  We walk inside the club, the steady pulse of dance music washing over me in a wonderfully distracting way. The only thing that could make the vision of Jaeger and the woman sliming on him less vivid would be a shot of Cuervo, or Patrón if I’m in the mood to pamper myself, which I damn well am.

  Fortunately, I’m with three attractive women. It doesn’t take long before men start buying us drinks. Mira may be hostile, but she’s unbelievably beautiful and luring all kinds of attention to our booth. Before I know it, I’ve downed five shots. A warm numbness settles over my limbs.

  I slide from my seat. “Going dancing. Anyone wanna come?”

  Gen shakes her head, posture slumped, eyelids drooping. She’s well past tipsy and teetering on hammered.

  It’s safe to say I’m not the most conventional female, but Gen is, and seeing her drunk is funny as hell. I pull out my iPhone and snap a picture.

  Her mouth parts in slow motion. “Heyyy!”

  Before she makes a grab for my phone to purge the awesome photo I caught of her drunk off her ass, I swagger away, swinging my hips to the music.

  I don’t care that I’m on the dance floor by myself, waving my arms in the air like a lunatic. I could be making a perfect idiot of myself, but all that matters is that I don’t feel anything.

  Not a damn thing.

  No humiliation over the way Eric dumped me, no fear about the future, not even the jumble of emotions Jaeger elicits.

  A new song transitions from the last and I shut my eyes, moving to the rhythm. Within seconds my balance wavers and I blink, throwing out my arms. I search for a visual horizon above the moving bodies to stop the spinning. My gaze lands on the wide, overcrowded bar off to the side. A tall blonde in a red dress looks over and our gazes connect. She looks an awful lot like Jaeger’s sister.

  I slam my eyes shut and twist around. When I open them, the Kerstin lookalike is gone, but so is my balance. I stumble to the side like a child in high heels. A pair of arms brackets me from behind.

  I swivel my head up and around. I’m pretty sure the guy supporting me is attractive, but the dance floor is dark, with blue and purple flashing lights. Given the heavy buzz I have going on, I could be totally off base. Then again, what has good-looking ever gotten me?

  He smiles and slides his arms down to my waist. I spin around and drape my hands behind his neck. He immediately pulls me close until our hips grind, the scent of heavy cologne and perspiration choking me as we sway to the music. Dampness seeps through his shirt and onto my fingers, and though he doesn’t smell bad, he doesn’t smell appealing.

  Without waiting for the song to end, I slip from his grasp, evading his grabby hands, and push through the crowd to the nearest exit off the dance floor. Where I end up is a different part of the club entirely, filled with lounge-style sofas and small square tables.

  Where am I?

  I glance around, searching for my friends, and recognize someone else. Seated at the table in front of me is one of the executives who hangs out after work watching Gen in the lounge. One of the trollers.

  He and the guy he often hangs with look alike from a distance. I can’t tell if this is the guy I saw leaving the motel with the waitress or if it’s the other one. They both have businesslike short hair and symmetrical features. The only reason I can distinguish either of them from a million other preppy professionals is because they’re young for casino executives, and they each wear Blue insignia rings.

  I’ve only seen a few executives in possession of the Blue rings. Zach, the dealer who’s friends with Nessa, filled me in on Blue protocol and how management receives thick gold bands with sapphires for exemplary performance. The two trollers wear them, and it’s one reason I recognized one of these guys leaving a motel room the day I ran errands.

  I’m buzzed and frustrated, and tired of preying men. And since I’ve lost all ability to filter my words, I walk over and say, “Hey, you’re the guy who’s been checking out my friend.”

  The man makes a slow perusal of me, his attention landing on my chest. “And now I’m looking at you.” His mouth kicks up at the side in a charming smile that must hit the mark with the ladies more often than not. “I’ve seen you around as well. What’s your name, pretty girl?”

  He’s sleazy, but his smile comes across as guileless. And he called me pretty. I must be feeling extremely low, because just that small bit of attention is enough for me to let my guard down.

  I’ll regret this tomorrow, but for now, I’m as big a sucker for flattery as any other lonely female. Besides, I can handle his type. “Cali.”

  “Cali, I’m Drake.” His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to figure me out, or maybe it’s because I’m swaying. “Would you like to join me?”

  Drake, the lounge-trolling executive, is pretty attractive up close, with dark hair and whiskey-brown eyes. I’d put him in his upper twenties. He’s polished and smooth in his tailored shirt and pants. Different from the guys I’ve dated. More mature. Worldly.

  A vision of Jaeger in his GQ gear flashes like a strobe in my mind. But Jaeger and I have never dated, so he doesn’t count. I clench my fists.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” he says.

  A good point. I don’t need a drink, but I could use one.

  I sit and Drake flags the waitress. “What would you like?”

  I tell him my order and it arrives in record time. Given my level of inebriation, which becomes more apparent with every attempt at normal activity I take, like, say, walking, I ask the waitress for water as well and sip my cocktail. Drinking is all fun and games until there’s puking involved. Water helps prevent the casualty. I’m buzzed and unable to think too deeply; that’s enough.

  Drake asks me questions about my job
at the casino and how I like living in Lake Tahoe. I follow the flow of conversation until the topic of summer excursions comes up and I happen to mention the fishing trip.

  Drake’s hand squeezes my shoulder from the back of my seat. “Cali, are you all right?”

  I look up and blink. Images of Jaeger in the boat, talking dirty fishing talk, lead to the most recent image I can’t get out of my head—of him with the older woman clinging to him like a barnacle.

  We haven’t even dated, yet somehow I must have let Jaeger in. Because seeing him with Gen, or anyone else, shouldn’t bother me as much as it does. “Yes—” I swallow the bitter flavor in my mouth. “Fine.” My smile falters.

  Drake doesn’t smile back, though his expression remains kind. “Would you like to leave?”

  Escape the casino and Jaeger?

  I nod eagerly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rational thoughts move like sludge, while a fast forward of Jaegerathon plays in Technicolor inside my head.

  Drake gestures to a back door. “Shall we?”

  I follow him numbly from the club. He’s been kind. Maybe I misjudged him. He could be as lonely as the rest of us, sitting in Gen’s lounge, searching for someone special to come along.

  It’s not until the door to the club closes and cool air nips my arms that I realize I can’t leave without Gen. And that maybe leaving with someone I’ve just met isn’t such a great idea.

  “Wait.” I stop and look around, my heartbeat quickening. I don’t recognize this part of the parking lot. “I came here with friends. We have to go back.” I reach for the door handle, but it’s locked from the inside.

  “They keep these locked. We’ll have to go in through the casino.”

  And see Jaeger with that lady? No, thank you. I wrap my arms around my middle, shivers vibrating my spine.

  At my hesitation, Drake slips his jacket over my shoulders. “Do you have a phone?”

  I left my purse with Gen, but my phone is in my back pocket. I pull it out.