“Bad day?” I ask
“You can say that.”
“No fire extinguishers again?”
He laughs, swiping my dress off the counter. “There are too many fires, rudo. Is this what you were going to wear?”
“Yeah,” I mock, taking it from him, “with my yellow bikini.”
He turns and walks out of the bathroom. “It’s under the kitchen sink. Now get ready.”
“Oh, now you tell me!”
Wheeling around, he gives me a look of complete seriousness. “Yes. Now I tell you. Because you’ll be with me.”
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, watching the city slip away from view. The landscape turns into an arid, flat picture with no fancy billboards or flashing lights. It’s hard to believe we are just barely outside of Las Vegas.
I glimpse over my shoulder to the other side of the car. Fenton is scribbling on a notepad, the pen flying back and forth across the page. His attention is trained on whatever he’s writing, his jaw pulsing as he gets whatever he’s thinking down on the yellow legal pad.
A purple Polo shirt stretches across his chest, constricting just a bit at his biceps. His legs are clad in steely grey swim trunks that hit just at the end of his toned thighs. My mouth waters at the mix of businessman and playboy and if some hired hand wasn’t driving us a foot away, I’d be unable—and unwilling—to resist temptation. He catches me admiring him and grins.
“We’re almost there. It’s not too much longer,” he says.
“Good. Because I don’t know how much longer I can sit this close to you looking like that and not touch you.”
He glances quickly at the driver and then back to me. “Want to make a pit stop?”
“Can we?”
Laughing, he puts his notepad on the floor and unbuckles my seatbelt with a deft hand. I slide into the middle, his lips meeting mine in a soft, slow gesture. He winds a hand through the side of my hair, pulling me closer to him. His supple lips feel so comfortable against mine, and when I finally pull back, I’m breathless.
That kiss wasn’t a reset button kiss.
The thought strikes a bit of terror in me. My fingertips fly to my mouth and I gulp back a sliver of fear that this fuckfest, for lack of a better word, is starting to evolve. My emotions, which are supposed to be cut and dry in a rebound kind of way, are now feeling like they’re being strangled by a grapevine with a killer body.
I’m not supposed to feel things when I kiss him. I’m not supposed to look in his face to see if his worry lines are forming around his eyes. I’m not supposed to care.
But I do. The realization that my time with him is going to end, and probably soon, slithers into my consciousness and chokes me.
Fuck my life.
His brows pinch together as he takes me in. “Are you okay, rudo?”
“Yeah,” I profess as lightheartedly as possible. “I’m great.”
He doesn’t believe me. I don’t believe me either.
Being great would mean things were going according to plan and this little adventure would give me a swift kick in the butt to refocus. Why couldn’t he be the cool, asshole alpha type? Or a hot mess in his private life? Why did he have to go be all kind and swoony and tender?
Fenton surveys me, the greyness of his irises sweeping across my features. “You know, I thought I had you figured out. Now I’m not so sure.”
“You’ll never figure me out. I’m a woman.”
“Why do I think you go out of your way to make sure I don’t figure you out?”
“Where’s the fun in having things figured out?” I tease. “I’ll keep you on your toes. Make you work for it.”
“For what, exactly?”
A zip races through me at the timbre of his voice, the huskiness that’s brimming with an innuendo I’m afraid to pick up. I can’t let myself fall for this man with no safety net and he’s made no qualms that he doesn’t want more than a fling.
His gaze heats, scorching my defenses, and I realize that there would be no such thing as a safety net with Fenton Abbott.
The water stretches both directions and goes as far as the eye can see. It’s a beautiful azure, the light breeze sweeping across the lake and dragging the fresh air with it. I take a deep breath, feeling the peace of the water, something that’s always made me feel a sense of serenity, roll across me.
Boats cut lazily through the surface and people linger along the banks, dipping into the stores and cafes lining Lake Las Vegas. I take in the view, the exotic Mediterranean feel, and convince myself we didn’t get into a car and drive to the Amalfi Coast. We are still in Nevada, just a stone’s throw from the Strip.