It’s obvious that Tyler called ahead because there are three shots on the table when we reach the private VIP room: slippery nipples.
Cooper laughs, damning him before he takes the shot and downs it. “Let’s go have fun.”
I lose the rest of my thoughts to the music, the lick of alcohol still hot in my throat. The dance floor accepts us, swallowing us into the beats and writhing bodies. We’re so close together, and the lights are constantly changing and flashing, making it nearly impossible to tell who I’m dancing with and whose hands run over my body. I hardly care as I try to erase my thoughts of this week, the memory of Tyler’s cologne, and weight of his arm, the flash in his blue eyes whenever he smiles. I work to forget each detail—every new memory that I try to pry from my thoughts where they’re working to burrow far deeper.
Nessie grips my arm, a smile splitting her face. She leans in, yelling over the noise of the club, “I need to pee.”
Cooper stays on the floor as we use the buddy system to head to the restroom. The door is in sight when I see him: charcoal gray suit with a black dress shirt and attentive blue eyes. His intensity stops me in my tracks.
Nessie notes my hesitation and glances around, spotting him. I hate that I noticed him so quickly when she had to work to spot him. It’s becoming a trend that I’ve been trying to ignore and avoid because it’s becoming increasingly obvious.
“There’s an attendant at the door,” Nessie says. “I’ll be right back.” She waves to Tyler as he moves closer, and I’m torn between wishing she would stay and being grateful for her momentary absence as he finally looks at me.
He stops in front of me, dropping his dilated eyes to my mouth, and for a second, I’m so sure he’s going to step forward and kiss me that I’d bet my private invitation to the planetarium next week on the fact. I’ve been on the receiving end of this look before, with the same guy. I’ve seen this exact brand of need and desire darkening his gaze when he invades my space and pushes every limit. I’m so confident he will kiss me that I tilt my chin up to receive him, regretting the instant that I do, because it’s not a thought or a need that dictates the movement—it’s him.
He releases a quiet noise that sounds so much like a scoff. I instantly pull back, humiliation already tinting my cheeks.
“Maybe next time you’ll get your wish.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him.
His eyes are sharp as they come down on me, a wolf smile. “You’re a terrible liar.” He turns on a heel and heads toward the stairs that lead to the VIP section, taking them two and three at a time.
Anger quickly follows embarrassment like a shot of liquor, contorting the memory and making everything sting as I wait for Nessie to return.
15
Chloe
“I’m too sober, and it’s too early,” Nessie says when she comes into the kitchen where I’m nursing my second cup of coffee and talking to Cooper. “We’re in Vegas. Where’s our tiger? Why isn’t anyone missing?”
Cooper laughs. “Morning, babe.”
I try not to respond to the pet names they’re beginning to use with each other, reminding myself this is my new normal.
She pouts. “I’m kind of serious.”
“We have two days to make bad decisions. Don’t get disappointed yet,” I tell her as Tyler comes down the stairs, another hiatus on shirts as he scrubs a hand across his bare chest.
She points at me. “This is why you’re my favorite sister.”
I smile at her, but the joke falls flat as my confidence wanes, the memories of dancing and having an amazing night with Vanessa and Cooper forgotten as my brief interaction with Tyler comes to the forefront of my mind.
“We should get going so I can win my millions at the slot machines,” Nessie says.
Cooper looks horrified, his brow knit and mouth parted. “You realize slots have your worst odds, right?”
She grins. “Of course, but they’re fun.”
Tyler shakes his head. “I’m going to a poker game this afternoon, but if you guys want to head out, we can go check out the Strip.”
“You should take Chloe to play,” Nessie says. “She’s a poker shark.”
Tyler looks at me, a teasing look that has me shaking my head. “That’s only when my competitors include Dad and Coop,” I tell her. “While you guys get ready, I’m going to head on down. There’s a doughnut shop that’s supposed to have a really long line, so they said to get there early.” I grab my purse.
“Give me a minute. I’ll go with you,” Tyler says.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to rush.”
“I just have to grab a shirt,” he objects, already standing.
“That’s a good idea. It’s probably best to stay in pairs while we’re here. There were some crazy people last night,” Nessie says.
I want to remind her we’ve seen some shocking things in each city, but that doesn’t really seem like it’s going to help my argument, so instead, I finish the rest of my coffee and encourage her to hurry up and get ready.
Tyler returns within moments, a clean V-neck tee that fits him too well, acting like his smile—fully distracting. “Frozen hot chocolate and doughnuts,” I remind Cooper and Nessie, realizing as I look between the two that they’re likely going to be up here for far longer than I’d prefer doing things I don’t want to think about.
In the elevator, Tyler stands too close, forcing me to move forward to gain some space and breathe air that doesn’t smell of his cologne. Thankfully, his phone rings before he can make a joke about last night. This elevator is fancy but doesn’t have a couch like the one in New Orleans. Instead, the space is open, filled with mirrors that create a strange optical illusion that makes me dizzy when I focus on any one spot for too long.
“I’m on my way down.” He sighs as he hangs up. “We have a quick pit stop.”
Relief tickles my nerves. “That’s okay. You can go take care of whatever, and I’ll just meet you later.” I leave the when and where vague, hoping I don’t have to see him again until much later.
The doors open, my relief spreading, and then his hand settles on my back like a flame, burning me. “It will only take a moment.”
“Okay, well, then I’ll see you in a few.”
He pivots, standing in front of me and coming to a stop. “I’m not the possessive type, so don’t confuse this with those arseholes who think they can tell a woman what to wear or do or where they can go, but if you think you’re going to wander the Strip alone, you’ve clearly misunderstood my intentions. Half the people you’re going to encounter will still be drunk from last night, and the other half will be nursing a loss of money and or pride. And as fucked up as it is that someone might look at you as a consolation prize, they will, and then I’d burn this fucking city to the ground to find the scumbag.”
I’m caught off balance by his words, trying to understand what he’s just told me and feeling fully dumbfounded.
“Good morning, Mr. Banks,” a man wearing a navy-blue suit greets us before I can contemplate a response. “Sorry for the interruption.” He exudes confidence, his voice loud and clear, his stare unwavering. He reminds me of my mom’s brother, Ryan, who’s worked in sales his entire career.