My hand trembled and I forced it to remain unmoving. “Please,” I said. “Just stop.”

“Oh, nice manners, babe,” he said loudly, trying to embarrass me, but I could embarrass myself a hell of a lot easier than he could.

The chatter of the game seemed to vanish as I focused on him. I was ready to let him have it, my self-respect wounded to the quick, when surfer boy appeared. “Sir,” he said calmly, “that was the worst line I’ve ever heard, not only insulting but showing a severe lack of forethought. You’re obviously bothering the young woman. You should leave before she does permanent damage to you.”

It was protective, yet implied I could take care of myself, not an easy thing to accomplish in one paragraph, much less one sentence. I was impressed.

One-line-wonder took a breath, paused, and with his eyes rising over my shoulder, he changed his mind. Muttering, he took his drink and his buddy on the other side of me and left.

My shoulders eased and I found myself sighing as I turned to surfer boy. “Thank you,” I said, taking a closer look at him. His eyes were brown and his lips were thin, and when he smiled, the expression encompassed both of them, full and honest. There was some Asian heritage in his not-too-distant past, giving him straight black hair and a small nose and mouth.

He ducked his head, seemingly embarrassed. “No thanks needed. I had to do something to redeem all men for that line.” His strong-jawed face took on a false sincerity. “What’re your other two wishes?” he asked, chuckling.

I laughed, ending it by looking at the craps table as I thought of my big teeth.

“My name is Lee,” he said, stepping into the silence before it became awkward.

“Rachel,” I said, relieved when he extended his hand. He smelled like sand and redwood, and he slipped his thin fingers into my grip to meet my pressure with an equal force. Our hands yanked apart and my eyes jerked to his when a slip of ley line energy equalized between us.

“Sorry,” he said as he tucked his hand behind his back. “One of us must be low.”

“It’s probably me,” I said, refusing to wipe my hand. “I don’t keep line energy in my familiar.”

Lee’s eyebrows rose. “Really? I couldn’t help but notice you looking at the security.”

Now I was really embarrassed, and I took a sip of my drink and turned to lean with my elbows on the upper railing about the table. “That was an accident,” I said as the amber dice rolled past. “I didn’t mean to trip the alarms. I was just trying to get a closer look at—um—you,” I finished, certainly as red as my hair. Oh God, I was screwing this up royally.

But Lee seemed amused, his teeth white in his suntanned face. “Me too.”

His accent was nice. West Coast, perhaps? I couldn’t help but like his easy demeanor, but when he took a sip of his white wine, my gaze fixed to his wrist peeping from behind his cuff and my heart seemed to stop. It was scarred. It was scarred exactly like mine. “You have a demon sea—” His eyes jerked to mine, and my words cut off. “Sorry.”