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“You two should totally get married.” Darlene hiccups, takes a deep breath. Her cheeks and the tips of her nose are bright red. “They do drop-ins, y’know. Back at the chapel. Just throw them an extra couple hundred bucks and they’ll marry you on the spot!”
I laugh at such a silly idea. “Me? Married?” I mumble. “I ran away to avoid all that shit. If Esteban knew I ran away t’marry someone else, he’d send thewholecartel ‘fter me.”
Darlene laughs uncontrollably. “What’re you even talking ‘bout? You’re sodrunk.”
“No,you’reso drunk.” I turn to face Zane. He looks at me lovingly. “What?”
“Let’s get married,” he says, sounding genuine and earnest.
The sane part of my brain tells me it’s a bad idea. Astupididea. I’m clearly not in my right mind at the moment, nor is Zane or anyone else at the table.
Except my sixth margarita finally hits me (I think it’s my sixth?) and my common sense goes straight out the window. Marriage doesn’t sound that bad. Not if I’d be married to someone as sweet, considerate, sexy, handsome, respectful, protective, and adoring as Zane Phillips.
I’d be lucky to end up with a man like him.
“Let’s do it,” I say without thinking. Words are just funny sounds, anyways. “Let’s get married.”
Our waitress arrives with another tray full of drinks. My memory starts to get hazy. I think someone makes a toast, but I could be wrong. All I know is that I help myself to another margarita and then—
My mind goes blank.
Chapter 11
Zane
Iwake up with a pounding headache and exactly zero will to live.
I have no memory of the night before. Drinks were probably involved because I have the mother of all headaches. I haven’t gotten this drunk since my late twenties, and now I fully regret letting Heath convince me thatone more drink won’t hurt.
There was discussion of bungee jumping, a petting zoo…
But the rest of the night is a mystery to me.
With an agonized groan, I sit up and slowly take stock of my surroundings. I’m in my hotel suite, lying in my bed stripped down to my black boxer briefs. When I roll over, I find Willow beside me, curled up beneath all the sheets. She’s hogged all the blankets, appearing rather cozy in the center of her self-made cocoon.
I squint at the glowing green digits of the bedside alarm clock. 10:52 a.m. We’ve missed our checkout window, but I don’t mind paying the extra fee. Very slowly, I drag myself out of bed and check my phone.
I have fifteen missed text messages.
The majority are from Heath, a string of nonsensical drunk texts about wanting to invest in a local wedding cake chain. One is from Knox with a plain and simple update that he’s arrived in Los Angeles. I’ve got a text from my daughter wishing me a Merry Christmas from Florida. But the last couple of messages from Andy are the ones that catch my attention.
Passport is ready. I sent it to your hotel.
Pick it up at reception.
Happy holidays and stay out of trouble.
A cold dread sweeps through me. Our time together is over. This time tomorrow, I’ll be back in LA and Willow will be God knows where.
She sleeps soundly, the morning glow filtering in through the curtains. Her hair is a wild, untamable mess—yet she is still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Very carefully, I brush a few strands away from her face and take the opportunity to memorize the long curl of her lashes and the fullness of her pretty lips.
I’m not ready to let her go yet. If this is the last time I’m ever going to see her, I figure I’d better make the most of every second.
I peel away the blankets and crawl under, grazing my palms up her inner thighs to nudge them apart. I settle between her knees and lick a stripe up her folds, relishing the soft moan that escapes her lips as she stirs awake.
“Nowthisis how to wake a girl up in the morning,” she mumbles with a light laugh.
My mouth is preoccupied with her pleasure, but I do manage a hum in agreement. I tease her senseless until her legs shake around me, Willow’s slender fingers tangled in my hair. I can tell how close she’s getting by the escalating breaths.
