He makes a grunt sound and says, “I’m opening your door, Calla. What did you think I was doing?”
“Well, you just never know with you,” I say in response.
He does exactly as he said he was going to do and then, as soon as I’m in, he closes the door and walks around the front to his side.
Beck Robertson just opened the door for me.
Beck. Robertson.
I keep my eyes focused out the front window as he backs out.
Now that I think about it, I’m not so sure any guy has ever opened the door for me.
I chance a glance at Beck and then shift to look out my window.
I have no idea how to get him to ask for a divorce, but I sure as hell know one thing.
I cannot fall for my husband.
CHAPTER SIX
CALLA - VEGAS
I feel like I’m floating.
“Shot, please.” I hold up a finger, and the bartender pours two more glasses.
“Calla, this has to be the last one.”
“Lightweight?”
“No.” Beck groans. “Just not stupid.”
I’d already planned for it to be my last. I’m at the point now where everything is perfect. I’m buzzed and happy and relaxed but can totally go to bed without spinning. Beck doesn’t need to know that, though.
“So, why didn’t you find something to do with Simon and Grey tonight?” Beck asks. “I’m sure their company would be more fun than mine.”
“Everyone’s company is more fun than yours.”
He tilts his drink at me and takes a sip.
I fight back my smile.
Bickering and quick comebacks are a total turn on of mine, but Beck doesn’t need to know that.
He looks sharp tonight.
Dark wash jeans and a black button-down. His hair is always styled and clean-cut, and his beard is also so groomed that I bet it’s soft to the touch.
Maybe I did have one too many shots.
Still, as much as I can’t stand the man, he’s beautiful.
“Can I buy you a drink?” a drunk man slurs, bumping into me and flashing me a smile. He looks half asleep with one eye open, and the tequila on his breath is about to make me puke.
“No, thanks.”
I turn to face Beck squarely. He’s laughing.
