She narrowed her eyes and pointed at me. “We better.”
“We will.”
She nodded to the building. “I should go lock up my office,” she said, and those words—lock up—flipped the switch on an idea.
I jumped to a new topic. “Hey, would it be okay if I increased my firm’s donation to the center?”
She shook her head playfully. “No. God no. Anything but that,” she said, waving it off. She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. But why, may I ask?”
“Thought it would be smart to get some additional security for this place while the revitalization is going on,” I said, gesturing to the courts and main building. “Lots of people coming and going. Construction crews. Just wanted to give a little more for some extra manpower.”
“Let’s do it. Thank you,” she said as we walked off the court.
I pointed to my car parked down the block. “I’ve got to take Ryan’s dog for a quick walk. Meet you at six? You can still be home in time, I presume?”
“Definitely.”
“See you soon. I’ll grab a shower too.”
There was a part of me that was hoping she’d enjoy the image of me in the shower.
Yes, that part.
12
Elle
I stared at the crowds along the Fremont Street canopy seventy-seven feet below.
Deep breath.
I wasn’t afraid of heights, but I was afraid of, well, dying. Or, more precisely, dying stupidly. Like jumping into a lake and cutting my head on a rock. Or parachuting. Or crashing from a zip line. That kind of death.
Logically, I knew zip-lining wasn’t a dangerous activity in the spectrum of dangerous things. But my rapidly beating heart, which seemed to be fighting its way out of my chest, begged to disagree. My skin prickled with nerves—the kind I hadn’t felt since I was younger and danced with danger. Now, as an adult, I tried to keep my risks manageable.
You can do this, I told the portion of my brain that had zero interest in skydiving and bungee jumping. It’s just a zip line. It’s exceedingly safe and ridiculously fun.
Plus, Colin waited patiently on the other side, hovering in his seat. The parallel zip lines ran down the length of the covered Fremont Street that was the epicenter of downtown Las Vegas—old Vegas, with the Golden Nugget and slots that still relied on coins rather than tickets. It was Vegas before mega resorts broke ground on the Strip.
Everyone rode the line here on Fremont Street. It was part of the experience. Besides, cruising along a zip line was a perfectly manageable risk. Man-made, controllable. The kind I could handle.
“I’m ready,” I said to the attendant. In a rush, so I wouldn’t back down, I let go and stepped off the platform, zipping off in my seat harness. I unleashed a roller-coaster shout of excitement. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I soared above the specks of miniature people, and a sense of wild glee engulfed me as I sped faster and faster. I glanced briefly to the left, where Colin sailed above the crowds on his own downhill flight along the canopy.
Screw fear. This was a pure rush as the summer breeze whooshed past me, reminding me of the thrill I felt when roller-skating, the high-speed chase around the rink. The charge that raced through me overpowered my primal worries as I rode past several blocks in the sky.
I flew the final feet to the end of the line.
“How was it?” the guy on the platform asked as he helped unhook me.
I gave him a thumbs-up, my heart still pumping wildly.
Minutes later, I climbed down from the platform and met Colin on the street. He held his arms out, waiting expectantly. “Admit it. You loved it,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.
“It was terrifying. But wonderful,” I said breathlessly, my pulse pounding in my veins.
“Excellent. Tomorrow morning you’ll join me for kayaking at the crack of dawn at Black Canyon,” he said.
I shuddered. “Kayaking? Like near the rapids? That comes with a chance of flipping over and cracking your head on a rock? Pretty sure this zip line is all you’re getting out of me when it comes to crazy sports,” I said, but the truth was I was glad he’d pushed me. I’d never have done it otherwise, and if I was going to give the kids advice about taking risks, it was good for me to take some too.
“No. A lake, woman.” Colin nudged me with his shoulder. “It’s calm. The chance of flipping over is slim to nil. So low-risk it’s beyond low-risk,” he said, urging me.
Was I ready to try kayaking?
It wasn’t inherently scary. Certainly no more so than roller-skating. But I’d been skating since I was five.
The sports I’d never tried—they scared me. The things I hadn’t done—they worried me.
Possibly that was because of Sam too.
My daredevil ex, carefree and cavalier, had loved to ride his motorcycle everywhere. He’d pushed and pushed and pushed for me to join him for a ride once. He wasn’t even high. He was sober, but he still ran a light and we’d spun out onto the sidewalk.
Ever since then, I’d had zero interest in anything I didn’t know well. Anything new. Anything risky at all.
I had a life to live. A son to look out for. I didn’t need to take chances I couldn’t control.
But was kayaking one of those?
“I’ll think about it,” I told Colin, and I would.
“That’s all I can ask for.” He held up a finger. “When are you free again? Because I have another idea. And I promise it’s fun and relaxing.”
Alex’s community service lasted all week after camp.
And I’d had more fun tonight than I’d had in . . . well, since I couldn’t remember.
I said yes.
After all, zip-lining had been exactly what I’d needed. The rush got me out of my own head and away from my worries, my fears.
That was where I enjoyed being.
And I enjoyed being in that place with Colin.
13
Colin
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more from Elle.
But I’d be lying too if I said I wasn’t enjoying these early evenings together hanging out after work, getting to know each other more.
I supposed I wanted her to see what we could be as friends. Maybe then, when she was ready, she’d know I was the guy to turn to.
The only one.
Patience was all I needed, and I had that.
Along with knowledge. Elle loved gangster movies.
So I knew where to take her Thursday afternoon.
We returned to old downtown, where we wandered through the crowds, soaking in the neon and lights, the exuberance of the summertime atmosphere, and not once did I feel a lick of envy for the twentysomethings bobbing around with long, tall plastic glasses full of liquor in their hands. Nope, I was a happy son of a bitch as we walked through old-time Vegas, then up the steps of the museum that documented the history of the mob.
“I believe you’ll get a kick out of this,” I said to her.
Her eyes lit up. “I’ve never been here. Always wanted to go.”
“I know,” I said, feeling pretty damn proud.
She raised a brow in question. “You do?”