But I’m too big for her to move. I pull out more cash. “One magic rose formy bride, please.”
“Oh my God.” She hides her face behind the rose I bought her, but not really. She’s peering over it at me, her gaze dancing as the woman hands me a black velvet pouch.
And then both women are laughing, the vendor peeling away, off to sell more flowers to the couples behind us.
“What did I just buy you?” I ask, realizing I’ve maybe been had a little. Not that I care.
Francesca gives me an innocent look. “I dunno,husband, maybe you should open it up and find out.”
Inside the pouch is a red silicone rose wrapped in plastic. No stem, just the flower head, the petals all curved around an opening at the top. And there’s a power button on the side.
Ah.
“Magic, indeed,” I murmur. If she thinks I’m going to be weird about a sex toy, she’s wrong. “I like it. It’s something for you to remember me by. I get the wedding license, and you get…” I turn it on, and it starts vibrating in my hand. “Orgasms.”
“Hardly seems fair,” she says, her cheeks very pink now.
“Why?” I pull her close.
She squirms. “Because it’s your birthday and I’m the one who gets the gift of endless orgasms.”
Fucking hell, I’m getting hard outside the marriage license office. “The thought of you having endless orgasms because of a rose I bought you is the only birthday gift any red-blooded man would need.”
“Then happy birthday,” she whispers against my lips. Then she sucks in a sobering breath. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Where are your friends? We can go find them.” I’d like to meet them, but I keep that thought to myself. I’ll leave it in her court.
She thinks about it for a second, then texts them, only to shake her head. “They’re on the rooftop of the hotel we’re staying at.” She names it, but it’s at the other end of the Strip. “We won’t get there in time.”
“A rooftop is a great idea, though.”
She makes a wistful sound. “Probably can’t get into one now.”
“Of course we can.” I run through the catalog in my mind of all the hotels I’ve stayed at up and down the Strip. “I know exactly where we can watch the fireworks.”
“Welcome back, Mr. Granger,” the concierge says. “You aren’t staying with us tonight?”
“Wish I was,” I promise.
Francesca’s phone vibrates in her hand. She’s texting her friends another location update.
“We understand, of course. Good luck tomorrow.”
Okay, that’s enough talking about me. “Is there any way we could get a card to go up to the pool anyway?”
I’m hoping that the poolside lounge at my favorite spot will be the perfect balance offeels specialbut alsonot jam packed, because it’s not a public access space. It’s for hotel guests only, and it’s steeped in luxury.
When I visit in the off-season, this is where I stay, where I play at the exclusive poker tables.
“Yes, definitely.”
“Thank you.” I take the card and turn Francesca with my free arm, knowing where I’m going.
“What’s tomorrow?” she asks once we’re in the elevator.
Ah, she heard that.
She twirls her rose at me. “Are you a professional gambler?”
