Take a look at the first book in the series,
He wasn’t really handsome just like she wasn’t really pretty, Jane thought as she sat down at her favorite machine, Pots of Gold. But there was something about him, maybe his casual attitude toward gambling. Most people at The Lucky Lady Casino and Racetrack, nestled in the small village of Brookside, were tense, even if they enjoyed the activity. Not Jane, though. Friday night was the best evening of her week.
As she dug into her purse for cash, she smirked at the dress she wore, the one that Mama insisted on buying with two other outfits, all a little tight in the hips. She hadn’t been exercising because…
Nope, a little voice told her. Not here. Here is the place you don’t think about bad things. Let go of all that.
So she steeped herself in the lights of the machine, the whiz of the spin and the pings and whistles from the other games around her. Then she took out a twenty from her little purse which settled snug at her side and slipped it into the machine. Before she pressed the button a cacophony went off next to her. Little gold coins floated up on the face of the other machine.
“Holy shit!” she heard from the man sitting there.
She had to check this out. “Holy shit is right. You won five thousand dollars.”
He shook his head. “I’m never lucky.”
“You are tonight. Congratulations.”
The call attendant sign came on and Jane went back to her game. Another spin. Four dollars. Another: zero.
She felt him watching her and glanced over. “I think you got all the luck tonight.”
“Sorry.” He grinned. “Not really.”
She took a better look at him. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. When he leaned in, he smelled heavenly. “I could play for you.”
“No thanks.”
A casino employee approached him. “Hello. I’m Alyssa, and you’re a lucky jackpot winner tonight.”
“Hi, Alyssa. I’m overwhelmed. I’ve never won so much.”
“You did tonight.” When she smiled, Jane noticed the employee’s appearance. Wow! Now she was a stunner. Long blond hair pulled off her face. And brown eyes like velvet. Dressed up in a teal blue sheath with heels. “Come with me.”
The man stood. “Good luck,” he said to Jane.
“Thanks.” She stared after him. Glad to know you, Blue Eyes.
Jane continued to press the button and icons kept coming up. Four turtles, three cylinders, three horses. She’d played five twenties before she won enough to be excited about. Four hundred dollars. Her heart raced, her whole body lifted up and the grin kept coming. Yes, this was the feeling she sought. This was why she came here. She got that thrill nowhere else in her life.
Seventh inning stretch, she thought as she rose from the machine, blew it a kiss and headed for the bar.
From the corner of his eye, John saw the woman who sat next to him at his lucky slot machine approach the bar. She was taller than he thought she’d be, and here, in the dim light of Lucky’s Lounge, she seemed sure of herself, not that exactly, turned into herself, unaware of other patrons. She slid onto the stool three down from him, exposing a little thigh when her pretty dress hiked up, and waited for a bartender.
He called Eric over. The guy was always attentive to customers, but because John had won and given the man twenty dollars for one drink, tonight he seemed more so. “Hey Eric, see that woman down there? The one in the sparkly dress.”
Eric turned his head. “Yep.”
“Her drink’s on me.”
Eric went a few feet over and spoke to her. She frowned. He heard, “I gotta go with the first one who asked.”
She nodded demurely and ordered. She didn’t look at him until the white wine arrived. She lifted her glass, turned a bit in her seat. He raised his scotch and faced her. Then she shifted her body the other way.
Huh.
He settled down to watch the patrons in the room: the guy in the suit who jangled change nervously in his pocket. His name was Bart Romano, the floor manager.
The woman in the sweat suit who sidled up to the bar and counted out ones for a beer.
A boisterous man at the end of the long counter, who right now yelled, “Hey, buddy, get your ass over here.” The clod.
John noticed the bartender did indeed go over. But he didn’t serve the man. He spoke softly to him.
“Call the manager,” the loudmouth responded. Resigned, the bartender crossed to Romano. John waited as Romano spoke into his radio.
Two men in guard uniforms approached. Spoke to the bully. And apparently asked him to leave. He was on his way out when he stumbled and bumped into…oh no, the woman at the bar. Her drink spilled onto her arm and the surface of the mahogany wood. At least it didn’t stain the pretty dress.
John got up and went to her. “Hey, you okay?”
She was frowning. Then she peered up at him. “I don’t like my night interrupted.”
“Oh, by me. Sorry.”
“No, by that loud jerk. Thanks for the drink.”
“You’re welcome.”
A smile came to her eyes. “You staying after your big win?”
He chuckled. “I took a brief foray to the bank.”
“Seriously?”
More than. He thanked God he’d now have the money to keep coming. “Yeah, can’t lose the whole thing. I kept a grand, but I won’t risk that much either.”
“Not a high roller?”
“Nah.”
“Okay. Again thanks for the drink.”
“Mind if I stay?” He gestured to the stool on the other side of her which had been vacated.
“I’m sorry I do. This is my one night out and I treasure the solitude.”
“I get it. Have a nice evening.” He walked away unfazed. Because he did get it. The same held true for him, and in the long run, he didn’t want to be connected to anyone or anything here—except the machines.