Last Name - Dr. Rebecca Sharp

Chapter One

The Country Love Collection

Other Works by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

Acknowledgments

About the Author

“Woah there, darlin’. I see you lookin’ for drinks to refill, but my glass is almost empty. Why don’t y-you stay and warm my leg here for a shake while I finish my bourbon.”

I blinked in horror as the middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache, cowboy hat, and a look that made me feel dirtier than a pig in mud, latched his hand around my waist and hauled me onto his lap.

If this was how my one night—and first time in Vegas—was going to go, I’d drive back to Tahoe tonight.

In my thirty-one-derful years, I’d never been to Vegas—though the city of shimmer and sparkle, sex and sin, was a lot farther from New Jersey, where I’d lived up until last year. Up until my world crashed down. Up until I decided that the only thing to do when everything felt like it was falling was uproot myself and move across the country to Lake Tahoe.

New place. New job. New life.

And now Vegas.

A city of lights and strange characters, colorful games and potent concoctions. It was a real-life Wonderland where up was down and wrong was right—where wrong was rule. Only I wasn’t Alice and though I hadn’t followed a rabbit here, my friend, Bunny, was the reason we’d chosen it for our girls’ weekend.

Well, she wasn’t really a friend. She was a friendly co-worker who’d only invited me out for drinks once or twice before—when she realized I’d overheard her ask the two women in accounting whose offices were across the hall from mine. A pity invite.

I’d accepted this was a pity invite, too.

I was plenty used to those during my life; it was obvious I wasn’t like the rest of them—tall, fake eyelashes, fake lips, fake nails…skinny.

They weren’t mean. The best way to classify how they chose to interact with me was not proactively. But we were all getting fired come Monday. And I’d always wanted to see Vegas.

So, it was the more the merrier to celebrate—or commiserate—our upcoming terminations.

Plus, the thought of sitting around all weekend knowing that Monday held the proverbial noose for my neck made me want to curl up into a ball and go on an Oreo diet.

I was just getting settled in Nevada. Comfortable. Comfortable to live again. To dream again. Comfortable to want things for myself again.

And now, the hotel I worked for was being sold—had been sold. And I was going to be trying to regain my balance after one more knockdown.

The Arden Corporation is now the owner of the Lake Tahoe Resort and Casino. More information to come.

No one saw it coming. No one heard any rumors. Not until that mass email with miniscule explanation was sent out on Monday.

All week, the tea swirling around the office was that the new owner would be laying off staff in order to cut costs when he got into town on Monday.

So, my momentary friends planned a night in Vegas, and I’d tagged along. But seeing how they disappeared on me while I ran into the bathroom to adjust my dress, I was starting to regret my choice.

No regrets, Carrie. Not anymore.

Still, it was their fault I was wandering around the casino floor at the Bellagio wearing a sparkling and clingy silver dress hand-picked by the Great Gatsby himself for the even greater occasion of a night out on the Strip.

It was eye-catching. And for a Jersey girl with some curves, I thought it would be too much. But when I looked in the mirror, seeing the way it flattered my full breasts and wide hips, highlighting my light-blonde hair done in big curls, all I felt was a wash of confidence I thought I’d never experience again.

Though it didn’t change the fact that I also looked like one of the showgirls out on the floor and eager to please.

Maybe that was why this cringe-worthy cowboy thought he could grope me like this.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said with my best manager voice, one that was a blend of perfectly professional and transparently threatening. “If you will please unhand me. I do not work for this casino, though I wish I did so I could have you removed for harassment.”

I sounded a bit like a schoolmarm, but that was usually as much of a deterrent as anything.

He stared at me, tilting his head for a second, but then his eyes glazed over and he just laughed.

Laughed.

“I like when they play hard to get.” And