He sits down on the bed and goes back to his previous endeavor with a smile. Which is shopping for me. He seems to think I need a new outfit before I make the long, arduous trip back to the Rio.
“Seriously, Brayden, save your money,” I say. “I don't need a –”
“Money is not an issue,” he replies distractedly.
He's looking intently at a page on the website that displays some more casual dresses than before. Actually, really cute dresses. They have sort of a vintage flair, a style I happen to like quite a bit. He's got pretty good taste, I have to give him that.
“What size are you?” he asks.
I scoff. “Don't you know you're not supposed to ask a woman that question?” I say. “That and her age.”
“You're twenty-five,” he says. “Now, your dress size?”
I laugh out loud, though I must admit – I am pretty impressed with his intuitive guess. Not that I'm going to tell him that.
“I'm twenty-four, but thanks for aging me prematurely,” I say.
“You don't look a day over thirty, gorgeous,” he says.
I give him the finger but keep laughing. Honestly, I don't remember the last time I laughed this much with somebody other than Gabby. And it feels good. Really good. Brayden stands up and walks over to the pile of clothing on the floor. It takes me a moment for me to realize what he's doing, but when I do, I sprint over to him, trying to snatch my dress away from him.
By the time I get there though, he just hands me the dress with a smile. “I'm a very resourceful and determined man,” he says. “I always find ways to get what I want.”
“Clearly,” I say.
A warm shudder passes through me as he makes eye contact, making me feel like there's more to his statement than my dress size. And when I realize that I don’t actually mind the dual meaning behind it - I grimace inwardly.
Brayden walks over to the television and picks up the remote. He taps a few keys, scrolls to the shoes section and murmurs to himself for a few minutes before hitting a few more buttons. He nods to himself and drops the remote back on the bed. And all the while, I stand there like a department store mannequin, with a million thoughts flying through my head, yet unable to give voice to a single one of them.
“Done,” he says. “Your new outfit for the day will be here in less than twenty minutes.”
A small smile touches my lips. “You didn't have to do that.”
He shrugs. “I know,” he says. “But, I wanted to. And like I said –”
“You find ways to get what you want,” I finish his sentence for him. “Does anyone ever just flat-out tell you no?”
“All the time,” he says and grins. “But, usually only once.”
I'm just about to deliver a snappy reply when the French doors of his bedroom fly open. A man enters the room singing some stupid showtune, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. My heart thunders in my chest as I look down and double check that I'm decent, thankful that I’d thought to put on a robe earlier.
When his eyes come to rest on me, they widen slightly, and a sly grin crosses his mouth. Brayden shakes his head and sighs, although he can't quite suppress the grin on his face.
“Holly,” he says. “This is my friend Trey. And he's obviously just come back from a very good night.”
Trey rushes over to me and takes my hand, bending low and planting a kiss on the back of it. “Milady, 'tis an honor to meet the fair escort of my lord and liege.”
He stands up, a goofy grin on his face and I can't help but laugh. Brayden gives me a shrug.
“I take it things went well with the leggy blonde,” I say.
“Actually, no,” he says. “Turns out, she's kind of a snooty, high maintenance woman who's got a large piece of wood stuck up her ass.”
“Well, you seem to be in good spirits anyway,” Brayden says. “And you didn't come home last night, so I'm assuming –”
“Yes, you would assume correctly,” Trey beams. “Her friend, the shorter brunette with the big –”
Trey cuts a look at me and I see the color rising in his cheeks, clearly a little embarrassed about nearly making a sexist remark in my presence. An amused grin on my face, I cock my head and fold my arms over my chest.
“Big tits, right?” I ask.
“Actually, I was going to say eyes,” Trey says. “She has wonderfully large eyes. Such beautiful, large eyes.”
“Right,” I say, shaking my head.
“Anyway,” he goes on, “Jacqui is her name and she is amazing. I think I'm in love.”
“Wow,” Brayden says. “That didn't take long.”
Trey shrugs. “Hey, when it's right, it's right,” he says. “Sometimes, you just know these things.”
Brayden nods and runs a hand through his hair. “You sure this isn't just a hard rebound from Step –”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Trey says, wagging his finger. “She-who-must-not-be-named – well – must not be named.
“Okay, fair enough,” Brayden replies. “But, are you sure –”
“More than sure, my friend,” he says. “She and I sat up all night talking. Talking, can you believe it?”
I look over at Brayden, wondering if Trey is speaking in code or something, and that ‘talking’ means what I think it does. Brayden looks back at me, his quizzical expression saying that he's wondering the same thing. Trey lets out a long breath and shakes his head.
“No, that's not code for something, you perverts,” he says. “Jacqui and I spent the entire evening staying up, drinking coffee, talking. I mean, we have a real connection. It's – amazing.”
“Wow,” Brayden says again. “So, there was no –”
Trey shakes his head. “No, there was no physical contact,” he says. “I mean, I kissed her before I left to come back here, but other than that, it was a night of nothing but pure emotional connection. It's not like anything I've ever experienced before, and I have to tell you - my mind is blown. That girl checks off every box on my list. Not even she-who-must-not-be-named did that.”
I steal a glance over at Brayden, so many of Trey's words sounding so damn similar to my own inner monologue last night and this morning. It makes me wonder if it's having the same ring of familiarity to Brayden. He gets up and crosses the room, pulling his friend into a tight embrace.
“I'm happy for you, brother,” Brayden says.
“Thanks, man,” he says. “Coming to Vegas is the best thing that could have happened to me.”
“Well, can we take you both out to breakfast to celebrate?” I ask.
“Can I take a rain check on that?” Trey asks. “We were actually thinking about taking a road trip today.”
“Absolutely, brother.”
Trey smiles wide and looks at me again, as if the fact that I'm standing here in nothing more than a bathrobe has finally sunk in. He looks from me to Brayden and then back again.
“Wait,” he says. “Who are you?”
“Holly,” I say. “I'm – a friend – of Brayden's. I'd tell you we spent all night discussing books or politics or whatever, but I'm pretty sure you're sharp enough to figure out that's a lie.”
He shrugs. “Knowing how much of a prude Brayden is, I might have actually bought it.”
“Eat shit, Trey,” Brayden says and laughs. “Get out. Go clean yourself up and go on your road trip.”
Trey bows low, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Your wish is my command,” he says, standing up and turning to face me. “It was nice to meet you. And I really hope to see you again. I mean that. There's something different about my man there. Something good.”
“I hope so too,” I say, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. “Good luck with Jacqui.”
Trey gives me a wink and bounds out of the room, closing the doors behind him as he bursts into song again – something by Sinatra this time, it sounds like.
“Sorry about that,” Brayden says. “I think he might still be drunk.”
I shrug. “Actually, he seemed pretty sober to me,” I say. “I think it's kinda sweet. He seems really happy.”