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“Or nauseous.”
“I get quiet.”
He pulls back to look at me. “You’re scared?”
“Nervous,” I correct. “Being scared suggests I’m fearful about something and I’m not. Just…a little… nervous.”
The elevatorbingsand Mase stoops to pick up the shopping bags. “Thank you for clarifying.”
“Because I don’t need to be scared of you,” I continue as I follow him into the hall. “Because I know you wouldn’t…you’d never—”
Mase interrupts by scooping me into his arms and off the floor. I squeak in protest and he laughs. “Do anything to hurt you?”
“Yes. That.” The knot in my stomach somehow unclenches all on its own, and I know whatever happens will be all right. It will be good because it’ll be with Mase, and he has already changed my life.
“You’re right.” He rests his cheek against the top of my head and the flutters in my chest threaten cardiac arrest.
Then he carries me down the hall, with bags dangling from his hands.
This has been nothing like the wedding I had so carefully planned in my head, but somehow Mase has made it all so perfect.
He heads to the door at the far end of the hall, and I don’t worry that I weigh too much, or if this is uncomfortable for him. I just enjoy being in his arms, cuddled against his chest. “Here I am,” he says. “Hereweare.”
We.
“But I did jump the gun on something,” he adds, gently setting me back onto my feet.
“You did?”
“I should have waited to get the door open before I picked you up.” Juggling the bags with one hand, he pulls his key card out of his wallet and unlocks the door. “Wait right here,” he orders, ducking inside the darkened room with the bags.
He’s back in a moment to pick me up again. “You really don’t need to do this,” I protest.
“Yes, I do. I need to do everything for you.”
I laugh, and with a last glance down the hall, Mase turns sideways to get us into his hotel room.
Mase
Ihavenevercarrieda woman into a room.
I’ve picked up plenty and threw them on the bed, held them up against the wall, in the shower, but I’ve never carried a woman across the threshold.
It’s natural to scoop Fiona up and carry her inside. The logistics aren’t easy, considering the width of the door and how I almost bonk Fiona’s head, but I manage.
Fiona seems to like it.
And then she sees my room.
“Mase!” she exclaims, struggling in my arms. I set her down rather than tossing her on the bed—which had been my plan. “You’re stayinghere?”
For the first time, I look at the room through the eyes of someone not accustomed to staying in only five-star hotels. Unlike what the name suggests, the rooms in the PlatinumHotel and Casino—Grandfather’s first foray into Nevada real estate—are understated, decorated with muted taupe and blues rather than metallic shades. From the inside, it looks more like a beachside resort than one of the landmarks on the Strip.
The California King in the middle of the room, looking inviting with its thick off-white blankets and heaps of pillows, is still first class.
The simple décor does what it should: give the aura of luxury and show off the real treat—the view of the sunset over the Strip.
The street below stretches out with bright lights as far as I can see. I’ve seen the view before, but never looked out in the early morning.
