The Eleventh Hour Page 3

  Addison lifted hers in reply. “Easier said than done.”

  After they threw back their drinks, Jessica looked to the door before leaning in. “Addison if only you saw the beauty that we all see; You. Are. Gorgeous. I just wish you could see it yourself.”

  “Pfft.” Addison waved off the thought, just as Dawson peeked around the outskirts of the bar.

  “Ask him if he came out ahead,” Jessica whispered.

  Thankfully to have an opening remark, Addison smiled at Dawson as he neared. In turn, his lips quirked up, the warm crinkles at the corners of his eyes making an appearance.

  “So, how’d you do?” Addison asked him as he pulled up a seat and relaxed into it, his ankles casually tucked under the metal railing at his feet.

  “Broke even, which in my book is definitely a win.”

  “Are the rest of the guys still playing?”

  “They met some girls at the craps table and took the party upstairs.”

  “Not the bachelor, I hope,” Jessica chimed in.

  “Definitely not the bachelor. He’s head over heels in love with his high school sweetheart and would never do anything to jeopardize that, no matter how intoxicated he gets.”

  Jessica nodded. “Good for him. How do you two know each other?”

  “We’ve been best friends since grade school. Most of the other guys here are buddies from high school, as well.” He leaned up and reached into his back pocket. “What would you ladies like to drink?”

  “I’ll take a gin and tonic,” Jessica threw out before asking the bartender, “Where’s the closest restroom?”

  “Around to the right, past the sports book.”

  “Great.” She dug in her clutch for money, but Dawson lifted his hand. “This one’s on me.”

  “Okay, great. Thank you,” she says before scooting off to the right.

  Addison didn’t want the conversation to die out now that Jessica was gone, so despite the fear gripping her lungs, she asked, “So, do you live in the North Bend area?”

  “No, but close. I have a place on Coos Bay.”

  “Oh, I love that area,” she genuinely cooed. “Are you on the water?”

  “Not on the main sound, but my house does back up to the goose neck.”

  Addison assumed that was the finger of water funneling to the larger body, but didn’t want to ask.

  He startled her out of her reverie. “How about you?”

  “I rent the main floor of a little house in North Point. It’s not much to look at, but it’s a place to rest my head and has a great location. It’s not by the water, though. Do you have a boat at your place?”

  “Actually, I just bought one from a neighbor who’s transferring to the Midwest. I’m looking forward to putting some miles on it.”

  “I can imagine,” she replied, obviously with longing, because he asked, “So you’re a boater yourself?”

  “Used to be…”

  Their drinks were then delivered. Addison was glad to have something to do with her hands. She picked up a red stir straw, dunked it into her drink, and clinked the ice cubes in circles.

  “Will you hand me one of those, please.”

  Addison plucked up another straw, handed it over, and was surprised when he tucked it behind his ear.

  She tilted her chin with flattened lips at his straw’s destination.

  He shrugged. “I figured I’d better keep track of my drinks with being around this crowd.”

  “Just one drink then?”

  He grinned devilishly as he retracted four more straws from his pocket and tossed them onto the counter.

  Addison was laughing as Jessica saddled back up to the bar. She was so short she had to climb the rung to sit back in her seat. “What did I miss?”

  “Dawson’s keeping track of his drinking by hording cocktail stirrers.”

  She nodded slowly. “Not a bad idea.” She tugged one out of the container, tucking it between her barely-there breasts. They all laughed when it slipped right through the material and landed on her seat.

  After another beverage, Addison was thoroughly enjoying the evening as she eased into her flirty girl persona that she so wished would become a continuous part of her repertoire. Dawson made it easy, though. He was a great conversationalist, and she was really appreciating his company. She loved the way his eyes danced over to hers when something funny was said, and how they seemed to linger there, making her stomach curl with anticipation. She wasn’t quite sure if he was flirting with her or not. Who knows? Maybe he was just that super nice guy who wanted to make everyone in the room feel comfortable.

  Feeling bold after her second cocktail, Addison stepped it up a notch and laid her hand on his knee. “Don’t feel like you have to stay here with us, Dawson. We know you have a party to get to.”

  “Speaking of that, how about you two come on up and meet the rest of the guys?”

  She leaned back, waving him off. “We don’t want to intrude.”

  “Yes, we do,” Jessica chimed in with a grin.

  Dawson stood, offering Addison his hand. “See, now you’re stuck, because you can’t let your friend run off with a man she just met, now can you?”

  The Presidential suite at the Wynn was twice the one at the Venetian, with a separate master bedroom and bathroom, sparkling kitchen with stainless steel appliances that opened to a vast living area, occupied by a cream leather, wrap-around couch, pristine glass and mirrored butler-style coffee table, and sixty inch flat screen TV anchored to the shimmering, striped wallpaper.

  The area was alive with approximately thirty or so bodies, all of which had smiles slung across their faces, a cocktail in their hand, as George Ezra soulfully crooned from the dock station. As soon as they entered, Dawson placed his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled sharply. When all eyes were on him, he made the introductions as he held a pointed finger above their heads.

  “This is Addison.” He paused for a round of waves and greetings. “And this is Tink.”

  “Tink!” they all jeered, obviously loving the nickname.

  Jessica lifted her hand in a wave and immediately headed for the throng of men circled around the coffee table playing some type of card game. Their bodies parted ways on the couch so Jessica could take a seat.

  If only Addison had the gumption to take life by the reigns, like Jessica did.

  She glanced over at Dawson, hoping he didn’t see her inferiority complex, like a lighthouse’s yellowed beam slicing through the darkened night.

  When he smiled down at her, offering her a beer, her kinked shoulders released slightly. “Sure, I’d love one.”

  She followed him through the room into the kitchen, thanked him for the Bud Light after he twisted off the top, and then again when he plopped down on a bar stool, pushing one out for her.

  Her eyes scanned the room. “Which of these guys is the bachelor?”

  He pointed to an oversized chair on the far side of the room. There was a short, stalky blonde man slumped in the seat as he deliberately studied the beer bottle he held in his hand. He opened his mouth wide before necessary, watching the bottle with intensity as he lifted the drink upward. It wobbled from side to side and then up and down, but eventually landed at the corner of his mouth as he tipped it upside down. The majority of the alcohol tumbled onto his face, trickling down his chin to saturate his red shirt, but he seemed pleased with his feat, grinning into his empty bottle as his head swayed in a circular motion.

  Dawson chuckled. “That’s Shawn. Can you excuse me for a second?”

  “Sure.”

  She watched as Dawson returned to the refrigerator, pulled something out, and then crossed in front of the bar, moseying over to his friend. He leaned down, speaking to him for a moment, and then withdrew the empty bottle from his hand and replaced it with a bottled water. After chucking the beer in the wastebasket, he returned to his seat.

  He pointed to the tall dark-haired, muscular man sitting beside Jessica on the couch
. “That’s Moose.” His arm moved to the other side of the sofa. “And that’s Terrance,” he said pointing to a black man with the magnetic smile. “And that’s Jimmy,” he finished, referring to the large framed man kneeling in front of the table. “All the rest of these guys are college friends of Shawn’s that I don’t know very well.”

  “And what about the girls? Do you know any of them?”

  “Nope. Those are the women from the craps table. I was playing black jack.”

  “Tink! Tink! Tink!” chanted from the men on the couch demanded their attention. They both watched as Jessica brought her drink to her lips and chugged the rest of her beer, finishing with a swipe of the back of her hand and huge grin as she slammed her empty bottle back onto the table. All the men hooped and hollered, throwing a hand up for high fives across the board.

  “Jessica seems to be fitting in just fine,” Addison observed. “What are they playing?”

  “It’s called In Between. Have you heard of it?”

  “That’s a poker game, right?”

  “Yeah, but instead of betting money, you wager with drinks, instead. If you win, you divvy out the drinks to whoever you want. If you lose, you take them yourself.”

  They watched Jessica slam another beer, making Addison comment, “Looks like my friend could use a few pointers.”

  “Either that, or the new kid is getting picked on.”

  Addison smiled as she ogled Jessica further. “I have a feeling Jess will give them a run for their money….as long as she sticks to beer.”

  “She’s so small. I can’t believe the alcohol doesn’t go straight to her head.”

  “I’d say it was the years and years of practice in college.”

  “Is that where you two met?”

  “Yeah, freshman year, actually. She lived down the hall from me.”

  “And did you hit it off right from the start?”

  “Not in the slightest. Jess was the continual party girl who had her parent’s platinum credit card stuffed in her bra to use at her discretion, and I was the stressed-out student freaking out about losing her scholarship. We didn’t even talk until finals week when I was knee deep in books and she had a banger going on in her dorm room down the hallway. Eventually I lost it and stormed to her room to beg her to keep the noise down, when she unexpectedly swung open the door and jumped into my arms, giving me a spider monkey hug.”

  Dawson chuckled. “A spider monkey hug? Exactly what does that entail?”

  “It’s where someone jumps up on your body and wraps their arms and legs tightly around your frame.”

  “Huh. I bet it’s kind of hard to stay mad at someone who does that.”

  “Exactly. I couldn’t help but laugh, and when she invited me in, I accepted.” Addison picked at the label on her beer. “How about you and your friends? Did you know them in grade school, or did you meet in high school?”

  “Shawn and I grew up together. We went to the same school from kindergarten on up to our senior year. We hooked up with Jimmy and Moose the first week of our freshman year, and Terrance transferred in our sophomore year.”

  “Did you all attend the same college?”

  “Nope. All went to different universities.”

  “Wow. It’s amazing you haven’t lost touch through the years.” Where did you graduate from?”

  “West Virginia. You?”

  There was a loud rap at the entry door, interrupting their conversation. Jimmy stood, lumbering over to the foyer. He came back with a woman swathed in a black trench coat, platform heels, a fully made face, platinum blonde, poker-straight tresses, toting an outdated jam box by the handle. Addison could smell her spicy perfume wafting through the air from the kitchen.

  Jimmy announced boisterously, “It’s stripper time!” as he threw both hands in the air triumphantly.

  The men responded with cattle calls, raucous whistles, and over-energetic clapping as the woman found the nearest receptacle and squatted down beside it.

  “Do you want to get outta here?” Dawson asked.

  Addison’s eyes sliced to Jessica, and when she found her perched on Moose’s lap with her arm draped around his shoulder, she accepted. They made their way through the room as the men removed the coffee table, lifting Shawn, still sitting cockeyed in the furniture, to takes its place. As they walked past the stripper, Dawson paused, removing his wallet. He slipped some bills into her palm, murmuring something that Addison couldn’t hear.

  He then cupped Addison on the small of her back, escorting her to the door. Once outside, Addison paused.

  “So, where to? The casino?”

  “Actually, there’s a bar on the tenth floor that overlooks the city. How’s that sound?”

  “Perfect.”

  They strolled down the corridor to the bank of elevators flanking both sides of the hallway, Addison trying her best not to hobble on her sore feet. These new shoes were a complete disaster. She gritted her teeth through the pain, trudging forward, attempting not to look like a knobby-kneed, newborn fawn taking its inaugural steps.

  When they finally reached the lounge, strung with twinkling outdoor lights, Addison gimped over to the overhang, selecting the closest table. She pulled out a seat and melted into it. Immediately, her feet throbbed with relief, a sigh escaping from her parted lips.

  Dawson, who took the seat adjacent to her, ordered, “Give me your foot.”

  “What?” she asked, confounded.

  He answered by pointing to her foot and patting his thigh. Against her better judgement, she eased her aching foot up into his lap. He latched onto the ankle strap and gently tugged it over her heel, releasing the shoe from her foot.

  Addison couldn’t help it, she closed her eyes, sucking in a relaxing breath, her toes wiggling freely in the balmy night air. When she reopened her eyes, he was grinning at her with a one sided smile. He crooked his finger in her other foot’s direction, making her readjust in her seat as she changed legs. This time when he unleashed the sandal, he trailed his thumb from the heel of her foot all the way to the tip of her toe, making her shiver involuntarily.

  She pulled her leg out of his lap. “Thank you for that.”

  Dawson handed her the shoes by the straps. “I don’t understand why you women put yourself through that kind of pain, just for a pair of shoes.”

  “Believe me, I usually don’t. Jess talked me into these contraptions,” she said as she studied her heels while dangling them from her fingers.

  “I think you should do yourself a favor and retire those things after tonight.”

  “Sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

  As she tossed the heels onto the floor beside her chair, the waitress arrived to take their orders. Once she trotted back off to the bar, Addison asked, “So, are you the best man at your friend’s wedding? Is that why you got stuck paying for the stripper?”

  “I didn’t pay for the entertainment,” he explained. “I picked up the tab for the room.”

  When Addison’s brows dropped in question, he said, “but I did give her a tip to keep it PG rated with Shawn.”

  “Wow. That was nice of you. I’m sure his fiancé appreciates that.”

  He shrugged. “Shawn and Dana have been together forever. In that time frame, she also became one of my best friends, too.”

  “Well, she’s lucky to have you.”

  His lips tugged upward slightly, before asking, “What do you do back in Oregon?”

  She paused while the server delivered their drinks, then took a tentative sip of Baileys on the rocks before explaining, “A friend and I started a bakery together.”

  “Nice. How long has it been open?”

  “Two years now. Emily’s parents were gracious enough to front us the money so we could get started right out of college.”

  “Where did you graduate from?”

  “The Art Institute in New York.”

  He took a swig of his beer, before inquiring, “So you use your artistic tal
ent on cakes?”

  “That, and I sell my paintings in the store, as well. We were hoping the people that come to see my work will end up buying a pastry and vice versa.”

  “So how’s that working out for you?”

  “We’re selling more cakes than artwork, but I’m hoping that will balance out in the next few years.” She swiveled her drink on the table, creating wet ringlets. “So, how about you? What do you do for a living?”

  He crossed one ankle over his knee, her eyes automatically dropping down to the curly, dark hairs peppering his lower leg as he rested his hand at the cuff of his pants.

  “Furniture…concrete furniture, actually.”

  Concrete Furniture? That sounded dreadful. She scratched at her neck and replied back, “Oh, nice,” her eyes darting off to the side.

  He laughed. “That’s the reaction I get ninety percent of the time when asked that question.”

  She feigned confusion. “What?”

  “Not couches or chairs, or anything like that. I design concrete desks, end tables, bases for glass coffee tables and things of that nature.”

  “Interesting. How did you get involved in that industry?”

  “My father had a concrete business. When I got involved after college, I needed a desk for my new office. I wanted a concrete top, so I designed a metal frame and had our shop pour the slab on top. A decorator friend of my mother’s got wind of it and began peddling them to her clients.”

  “So do you still work for your father?”

  “No, we sold the company after he passed away.”

  Her heart ached with that familiar pang of loss. “I’m so sorry.”

  His eyes glazed over before slanting off toward the glittering lights of the strip, casting a shadow over his face as he murmured, “Thank you,” and then tilted his drink to his mouth. When he turned back in her direction, his wave of heartache seemed to have dissipated. “So, you said you were in town on business?”

  “Yes, headed over to the convention center bright and early tomorrow morning.”

  The waitress reappeared asking if they needed another round. Dawson looked to Addison.