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“I’ll watch it tonight,” he promises sweetly, before digging in his pocket for something. I observe him struggling to get his hand all the way in, and his upper body contorts as a result.
“What are you doing exactly? An interpretive dance in the meantime?”
He chuckles as he finally frees the object he’s been after and tosses it to the table between us.
Instantly, I recognize that it’s a hotel room key, and both my heart rate and my eyebrows climb to the ceiling when I see it’s for the Venetian.
“Uhh,” I slur, trying to find the part of my brain that’s responsible for language while all the blood takes a road trip to my vagina.
Chase laughs, choking as he rushes to explain. “Oh. No. I mean, yeah, I see how I’ve confused you, but yeah, I just…” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before opening them again and finishing with a smile. “I did get us a room—and it is one room—but only because that’s all they had. It’s two beds, though, but you mentioned more than once on the drive over that you’d never stayed in a fancy Las Vegas casino, so I thought…”
“Oh my God!” I yell, jumping up and bumping the table as I dive to give him a hug. “That’s seriously so thoughtful. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you! I can’t believe you were even paying attention when I was babbling on and on during hour umpteen of the road trip that almost never ended.”
He tucks me close, his arms squeezing in a way that both comforts and terrifies me, and I can feel his breath in my hair as he answers, “You’re welcome. It’s no big deal. I just thought you deserved something fun.”
This guy. Could he be any sweeter? Any more thoughtful? Any more perfect?
According to the book you wrote about him, the answer to that question would be no. He’s the ultimate. Your ultimate.
“Wow. Just…thank you,” I whisper again, but I make a point to disengage from his embrace before I start getting all dizzy and light-headed. “And crazily enough, I think I already know what I want to do with our wild hotel night.”
He quirks a brow, and I try to ignore the sexual innuendo that could be mined from my words.
“Can we sit at the slot machines and order sodas all night?”
I would order wine, but the last time wine-sloppy Brooke and Chase were paired together, I sent him the wrong file for a book that’s been trying to ruin my life ever since. So, I think I’ll stick to soda.
“If you want. I mean, some sleep might be nice too, but—”
“Oh. When I say all night, I mean an hour, tops.” I wave a hand in the air. “I live with a ten-p.m. bedtime cap, and I’m not about to change that now. It would throw Benji off completely.”
His chest vibrates with humor. “I guess we’d better get back to the hotel and get started, then. Time is ticking with that kind of curfew.”
I clap with glee in front of my now scarily happy face, and Chase bites his lip in response. That, of course, makes me think of his mouth and reminds me of the tiny, unconsented taste I took that night he was sick. My cheeks heat to the fiery temperature of blown glass.
Thankfully, he doesn’t notice and stands first, taking out some of the cash Netflix gave me for expenses—we both learned early on it’d be a much better idea for him to carry it—and paying the bill while Benji and I stand from our seats and try to gather ourselves.
My canine buddy is definitely tired of walking. I can tell by the heavy way he drags along on his leash as we head out of the restaurant.
“Sorry, dude. Not too much longer,” I reassure him as we weave our way onto the sidewalk. “All we need to do is go back to the camper and get our stuff, and then we’ll be able to chill at the hotel.”
Chase clears his throat behind me, and both Benji and I turn to look at him as a result. The sun is directly above his head, though, so I have to put a hand in front of my forehead to shield it as he explains, “I already had our stuff brought over by a car service. I hope that’s okay. I just thought it’d be better than having to go all the way back to the campground.”
I shake my head with a smile. “Look at you…taking scenes right out of Accidental Attachment.”
It’s safe to say that my mind-mouth connection wasn’t all that strong on that one, and before I know it, I’m blushing and looking down at the sidewalk again. What a stupid thing to say.
Chase, oblivious to my mental meltdown, of course, doesn’t take any offense. But, I mean, why would he? I’m still lying about every aspect of the fact that I fictionally cloned the man and made him the main character in the book he’s working his ass off to get published.
