“He’s holed up with Evie. Keeps calling her his bride and getting teary. He’ll be distracted today, guaranteed. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Grab Dec, and go explore Vegas.”
I roll my head toward him, studying his open face and kind eyes. “Ok. But I need to do a little shopping first. And I’m charging it to the room...Boss.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “I’d expect nothing less.”
31
DECLAN
I wipe my hand down the side of my pants because, of course, I’m sweating. I’m next to the most beautiful woman in the world, and she’s mine for the day…as long as I don’t fuck it up. She’s dressed a little differently, in new, shorter leggings that end below her knees. And another one of her shiny, soft tanks that makes me want to touch. Everything makes me want to touch, but those tanks are on a whole other level. I know firsthand how soft they are.
I sneak a glance down at the space between us, then at the numbers ticking down on the elevator. Just before the doors open to the lobby, I make my move, cupping her wrist and sliding my fingers down along her palm until we’re holding hands. We’ve been off balance since that helicopter landed at the motel, and I’m half afraid she’ll brush me off.
She doesn’t.
Shooting me a small smile, she squeezes my hand, then shifts to thread our fingers together. I’m thirty-three years old, and I’ve never done this. Walked with a woman I’m crazy about, holding hands. It’s something so simple, and yet it’s never mattered more. I can’t screw this up.
The doors open, revealing the ornate lobby of the hotel. A weird mix of Asian and modern that looks expensive and cold. Not my style, but judging by the lines of people at checkout, a great investment.
As usual, when I’m at a property like this, the staff converge. Not all physically, some of them just smiling and nodding, but there’s always a group that comes to ‘bow and scrape,’ as Nick puts it.
“Mr. Wilder,” a polished man in his fifties says. His suit is on point, the little pocket square folded precisely. His shoes are so shiny I can see our faces in them. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Arrange for a private table for us at the restaurant,” I ask, naming the one with a celebrity chef. “We’ll walk for a bit first.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll have it set aside immediately for you. It will be ready whenever you return.” I’m sure it will be. We own the fucking thing. If I want a table engraved with my name and left ready for me at all times, they’d do it. One of the perks of being the owner I guess.
I nod my thanks and lead Cara through the maze of people, exiting to the courtyard off the strip. I pull her into a quiet corner.
“Hi,” I say dumbly, lost in her gorgeous blue eyes. Every time I see them, I can’t stop myself from fixating. I can’t stop myself from remembering what they looked like after I kissed her. All hazy and sleepy.
“Hi back,” she says with a cheeky grin. She looks different today. Shorter.
“Your shoes are different!” She’s wearing a pair of sparkly sandals. They’re flat. “I’ve never seen you in anything normal like that.”
She snorts, laughing at me. “Normal? Whatever. I just thought this might be a better choice for today. What are we doing?”
“Well, I had all these elaborate ideas, but I thought it might be nice to just spend a bit of time relaxing. We could walk, or I’ve got us spots at the spa. Or we could find a movie or a show. I kinda ended up in analysis paralysis.”
“Analysis paralysis,” she echoes, looking at me questioningly.
“Yeah,” I mutter, studying our feet. Her toes are polished a color so dark it’s either black or almost black. It makes her skin look paler than it actually is. “It happens sometimes. When the stakes are high, I end up in a loop of indecision.”
“How do you get out of it?”
I meet her kind eyes. “My brothers. I use them to bounce ideas off. It helps to get another perspective. In this case, that would be pointless since the only perspective that matters is yours.”
“Oh, ok. Well, then, I really like the idea of walking around in the sun. I took a bath, but I still feel like my bones are cold.”
Images of Cara in the bath, and all the ways I could help her warm up flash through my mind. I clear my throat. “Then let’s do that. We’ll play tourist and buy shirts that say, ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
“I like this plan,” she says, backing out of the corner and tugging me with her. “Maybe we get some of those giant drinks, too, and see where the day takes us.”
“IT’ S NOT THAT BAD. WE COULD TOTALLY DO IT ,” SHE SAYS , LEANING WAY BACK INTO MY CHEST TO get a better look. She’s a tiny bit drunk. The kind of drunk that makes her lean on me a little more, touch me a little more. Tiny bit drunk Cara is addictive.
I shift my focus to the roller coaster perched on a skyscraper way the fuck above the strip as I tighten my arms around her. “Yeah. We could totally do it. No big deal.” We both nod, staring, able to hear the faint screams from the street.
“I’m a wee bit drunk,” she says, reaching back to pat my face without looking, ending up slapping me instead. Laughing, I catch her hand and nip at her fingers. “Maybe we'll come back after we’ve had some food. You know, to soak up the booze.”
