Tamed By You (Always & Forever #2)

12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Ali

A Vegas pool party has been on my bucket list for years, so when Ria said I had free rein when it came to the location of her bachelorette, it was Vegas all the way, baby. I bagged us tickets for the best pool party on the strip, and of course, a private cabana, complete with table service.

I glance around the pool, taking in the sea of people, and I clock a familiar face. The guy from last night—the guy I never got to speak to—sitting two cabanas down from me.

You, sir, are on my to do list today.

Buckets of Moet and a pitcher of margaritas are brought to our table, and we waste no time throwing the drinks back.

“Oh, my god, this is the best weekend ever. I miss my girls like crazy, but God, did I need this. And they are having fun with their grandparents, so I shouldn’t feel guilty for enjoying this, right?” Ria exhales, leaning back on the daybed, sunglasses on looking stunning in the white one-piece I had custom-made with Mrs. Lawson stitched on the back.

“No, you shouldn’t feel guilty, they are having a blast with Jack's parents, so soak it up, babe. You deserve it.” I give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on then, Harley, spill. What happened between you and Mason? Was that the walk of shame I heard you doing this morning?” Gabby squeals. “I want all the juicy details.”

“It’s not a walk of shame, Gabriella, it’s a stroll of success,” I announce.

“Amen,” Kate hollers.

“I want all the juicy details, spill.” Gabby laughs, giving Harley a playful shake.

Harley throws her hands over her face, curling into a ball and falling on her side on the daybed, and we all erupt into fits of giggles.

“Oh, girls, don’t. I’m not the one-night type of girl, but damn, he is so fine, how could I not? When in Vegas, right?”

“Exactly, do it for the plot babe. Life’s too short,” I say tapping her leg.

We all raise our glasses and say in unison, “Do it for the plot!”

“Speaking of doing things for the plot, what was that lap dance all about?” Kate asks, shuffling closer to me and bumping shoulders. “You guys must be banging, right?”

You have no idea.

“He wishes,” I scoff, trying to sound unbothered, but it’s all I thought about last night. I need to get laid, stat, because I am wound tighter than a guitar string right now, and not even my fingers and my dependable vibrator could scratch the itch last night. But I would rather fuck myself with a rusty fork than go there with Harry again.

Lies.

Ria lifts her sunglasses up. “Oh my god, is that the guys?” She points and I turn around to look. Sure enough, there are the guys, waving back at us. One in particular has a shit-eating grin that I’d like to slap again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter under my breath.

They all stand and walk round the pool toward us. Damn, they look good, but Harry, he’s on another level. A memory of riding him runs through my head, the feel of his firm body beneath me, his large hands tightening on my hip bones. I close my eyes trying to erase the memories from my mind.

Not happening.

They reach our cabana, and everyone greets one another except Harry and me. We stand there like we are having a Wild West showdown.

“Really? Are you just going to keep showing up everywhere we are? Vegas is a big place. You couldn't have picked anywhere else?” I say, folding my arms across my chest, pushing my boobs together, creating what I know is a killer cleavage.

I watch as his eyes drift down.

“Hey, eyes up here, buddy.” I release my arms and snap my fingers.

He gives a smirk and I roll my eyes. “Sorry, Ali Cat, can't help it if the universe is trying to bring us together.”

“This has nothing to do with the universe. This is you trying to ruin my weekend.”

“Don't flatter yourself. I don't care enough about you to ruin your weekend.”

“You talk so much shit I don't know if I should offer you toilet paper or a breath mint,” I say, lowering my voice, thankful that everyone has fallen into various conversations and are not taking any notice of what's going on between the two of us. “If you don't care, then why were you trying to get me in your bed last night?”

He closes the gap between us, our chests almost touching. Lowering his voice, he says, “Regretting that decision, are you?” He quirks an eyebrow. His comment leaves me breathless for a second.

“You really do have a huge ego, don’t you?”

“I think you do regret it, but I’m a forgiving man. Just say the word, Ali Cat and I’ll have you screaming my name again.”

Do I say fuck it and have some fun whilst we are here, do it for the plot as I just encouraged Harley to, and then leave it all in Vegas. I've been with a few guys since him and none have compared. I know he will be able to scratch this unbearable itch.

He lifts my necklace with his index finger. It’s a dainty gold chain with the letter A on it. “You've got the wrong letter hanging off that necklace.”

“E- Excuse me,” I say, stuttering my words at the feel of his touch on my hot skin.

“I’ll have a H hanging round that pretty neck of yours one day and you agreeing to another night together before the weekend is over.”

I open my mouth to speak when a stunning girl appears and taps Harry on the shoulder, handing him a folded piece of paper. “My number, as requested,” she says quietly, giving him a wink before she saunters off.

Harry's eyes bulge. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

“Unbelievable, you really are an ass,” I hiss, shaking my head.

“I didn’t… It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think? Save it. Let’s just tolerate each other for another couple of days, and then we never have to speak till the wedding, okay?”

I don't let him answer. Instead, I turn on my heel and sit back down in my space on the day bed, picking up my champagne flute and draining its contents.

Stupid me for thinking about going there again.

An hour passes and I’ve managed to avoid speaking to Harry. The guys eventually went back to their daybed and us girls played some drinking games and chatted about the wedding and the plans for tonight.

“Okay, who's joining me in the pool?” Kate asks, standing up and sliding off her wedged sandals.

“Me,” Harley says, raising her arm enthusiastically.

“I'm gonna go see Jack for a minute. Anyone wanna come?” Ria asks.

“Nah, I’m good, babes. I’m gonna relax here for a minute.” I say.

She nods and Gabby gets up and follows her. I go to pour another drink when a shadow forms over me. I turn and see it’s the guy from the club last night. Dark hair, clean shaven, and the most defined jaw I’ve ever seen. He’s shirtless, wearing a dark blue pair of swim shorts and aviator sunglasses.

“Hey, this seat taken?” His voice low with a sexy husk to it.

“No, please sit.” I gesture to the space beside me.

“I’m Ryan,” he says holding out a hand.

“Ali.” Placing my hand in his, he brings it to his mouth and places a feather-light kiss on my knuckles.

“This will sound like a cheesy chat up line but, I’ve not been able to keep my eyes off you since I saw you last night and I wanted to come, say hi.”

I do my best girly giggle. “Yeah, it does, but I’m here for it.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

Will I marry this man? No. Will we have a fun time? Probably, and it will help me forget a certain someone.

We fall into an easy conversation and Ryan seems like a really nice guy. He works in advertising and is based in New York, as luck would have it. Hmmm, maybe we could meet up back home.

Out of nowhere, the daybed dips beside me and when I look, Harry is there clutching his stomach. “Oh, babe, you were right. I should have stayed clear of the shellfish.”

“Excuse me,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Gone through me like lightning. Heads up, my man. Stay out of the second cubicle in the gents over there.” He gestures with his thumb.

“Who are you?” Ryan asks. Annoyance in his tone.

“Someone who's leaving. Off you go,” I say, shoving Harry.

“Babe, I can’t. I need some of that stuff you took to stop the diarrhea.”

My eyes widen. “Dear god, stop talking,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Are you sick, Ali?” Ryan asks, concern in his voice.

Harry wraps an arm around my shoulder and awkwardly tugs me towards him. “Up all night she was. We had to call housekeeping up to the suite because it got a bit messy, didn't it, babe. But look at her now, acting like nothing happened, soldiering on. What a trooper.”

Sweet Jesus, I’m gonna kill him.

“I’m fine, Ryan, I can assure you. The only one full of shit here is him.”

Ryan rises to his feet, looking around, avoiding my gaze. “I'm, uh… just gonna go, get another drink.”

“Sure,” I say, jaw clenching.

I wait for him to be out of earshot and then shove Harry so hard he nearly falls off the daybed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss.

“You're welcome. You dodged a bullet there,” he says, smoothing his hands over his swim shorts, making my eyes land on the outline of his impressive cock as I track his movement.

“I'm welcome?” My pitch is so high I’m sure only dogs can hear.

“Yeah, he wasn't your type.”

“Oh, really, and what’s my type?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

He leans in, his mouth grazing my earlobe. “Me.”

My breathing hitches and I swallow hard, caught off guard at his comment. “You wish,” I sneer when I can speak again. “Are you going to keep fucking me over all weekend?”

“Baby, either I’m going to be fucking you or making it so damn hard for any other man to. You choose.”

My body stills at his statement and before I get the chance to respond, a waiter appears in front of us, clearing away the empty glasses. I pull away from Harry busying myself digging around in my bag for nothing in particular.

Maybe something to poison him with.

I feel my skin begin to tingle under the blazing Vegas sun, so I pull out my bottle of sunblock and stand up to apply some. Harry lays back on my day bed, putting on his sunglasses that were on his head. I roll my eyes in irritation.

Sure, make yourself comfy you ass wipe. Just continue to invade my day.

Squirting some lotion into the palm of my hand I rub it into my chest, my fingers disappearing under the material of my bikini top to make sure I get as much of my skin protected as possible. I continue down to my stomach rubbing the lotion in in sweeping motions, taking my time to work my way under my torso chains that hang from my bikini top. I raise my head and notice Harry’s head lowering, his sunglasses falling to the bridge of his nose and his eyes zoned in on where my hands are placed.

Smirking to myself, knowing I have his attention, my belly somersaults in excitement. I decide to toy with him. Play dumb games with me Harry Walker, I can play them too. Cocking a leg up on the edge of the day bed, holding the bottle above my leg, I let the white liquid dribble out and land directly on my skin, then drop it onto the bed and take my time working the lotion into my skin. I glide my hands over my thigh and slowly work my way down my leg to my ankles and then back up.

Glancing over at him from the corner of my eye, I watch as his mouth falls open slightly, his gaze never leaving my hands. “So, Gabby suggested we visit the hotel spa this afternoon. Are you all planning on coming too?” I ask.

I wait for his reply, but he says nothing, his eyes following wherever my hands go.

“Harry?” I snap.

He flinches. “Ugh, what?”

“I asked if you were going to the spa later? We are going to have some treatments done.”

“Erm, yeah, I guess so.”

I nod, reaching for the sun lotion once again and swapping over my legs.

“I’m thinking of getting the bamboo massage and some cupping done,” I say knowing damn well he won’t have a clue what I’m on about. He doesn’t strike me as someone that’s into holistic treatments and I want to test my theory that he is not listening to a damn word I’m saying. Instead, he’s using this opportunity to gawk at me, so I continue.

“Yeah, it's really good. Really helps detox the body,” I say, dragging my hands to my hip and working the lotion in.

“Uh huh,” he mumbles, eyes still zoned in on my hands. I bring them back to my chest and up to my neck. Rolling my head from side to side as I massage the lotion in, letting out a moan of pleasure as I do, enjoying having his focus on me.

“Yeah, it really helps get out all those knots and kinks because it’s so nice and deep,” I drawl out seductively.

“Really…” he says, and I watch his neck muscles flex as he swallows hard and he shifts in his seat.

“Maybe you should get it done. I think it would help loosen you up and get rid of all that built up tension you have,” I say as my hands drift between my breasts and back down to my stomach, before they come to rest on my hips.

Knowing I need my shoulders doing I go to ask him to do it, to really stretch out his torment, but Brett appears, startling me.

“Oh, hey,” I say, then glance over at Harry. It seems Brett’s arrival has snapped him out of his trance because he looks pissed and is giving Brett daggers.

“Ali, your shoulders are looking a little red. do you need some help?" Brett offers. Realizing it's another moment to tease Harry because I’m still reeling from him flaunting that waitress in front of me and then ruining my chances with hot cabana guy, I agree.

“Why, thank you, Brett. You are such a gentleman. I would love that,” I answer him, but my gaze is fixed on Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose as he reaches over, taking one of the half-drunk glasses of margaritas from our table.

I climb onto the daybed and lay on my front, gathering my hair and moving it over my shoulder, out of the way. Brett sits beside me, decanting the lotion into his hands, and I squeal when his cold fingers begin to rub it into my shoulders.

He chuckles. “Sorry, I should have warned you my hands were a little cold from holding my beer.”

“It’s okay,” I reply.

His touch feels good; firm and deep, and I let out a little moan of appreciation. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Harry avoids looking at us, focusing on the pool.

“Oooh, that feels good. You have amazing hands.” I groan, rolling my head from side to side, all the while, making sure Harry is watching.

I don't miss how his nostrils flare as his hand grips the glass so tight I fear it will crack.

“Let me do it here too.” His hands wander and suddenly the clasp of my bikini top is open, and I freeze. I grip my hands to my breasts and sit up.

“No, not there, don't do that,” I choke out, fear gripping hold of me instantly I feel myself begin to panic, my heart picking up speed, my brain telling me to flee. God, I'm making a scene.

“Sorry, I just didn't want to get lotion on your top,” Brett confesses, his tone apologetic.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I… I…” I can't fasten my bikini myself without moving my hands and exposing my breasts. I scramble up the daybed, needing space; to get away from him and try and cover myself somehow. Frantically looking around for a towel, a top, something, anything to cover myself. It’s then I feel the soft cotton of a towel brushing against my burning skin. Harry wraps it around my body, holding it together, covering me completely.

“Here, you’re okay, I've got you,” he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear. He has the towel together in his hand and gives me a nod. “I won't let go; I promise.”

I sag in relief and fasten my top, adjusting myself beneath the safety of the towel. I nod to let him know I’m done, and he removes the towel, letting out a long exhale.

“Shit, Ali, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I—”

“No, no, it's fine,” I say, reaching for my champagne glass, my hands still trembling.

Nobody can see. You’re okay.

“I’m gonna go find the others. We good, yeah?” Brett asks, tone unsure.

“Yeah, absolutely,” I reply giving him a reassuring nod, and he leaves.

An awkward silence falls between me and Harry I have to acknowledge what he just did for me. He could have been a dick and laughed. But he didn't. He saw me panicking, and came to my rescue, and I’ve never been more grateful to have him around than in that moment. He will never truly understand what he just did for me.

“Thank you… for that, I erm…”

“You don't need to thank me.” He reaches for my hand and links our pinky fingers, giving it a light squeeze. “I got you Ali Cat, pinky promise.” His tone is so soft and genuine, it makes me relax and feel… safe.

I chew the inside of my cheek, unsure what to make of what just happened. Harry was nice to me, and now I’m even more confused by this weird back and forth we have. I’ve never been good with using my words to express myself, so instead, I press a soft kiss to his cheek and whisper, “Thank you.”

After soaking up the last of the afternoon sun we then headed for the hotel's spa. Everyone’s sitting in white robes, waiting to be called.

Jack and Ria head off for a couple’s massage and Kate and Harley get called for their treatments at the same time as Mason, Brett, and Brad, Leaving me and Harry. He sits opposite me filling out the health questionnaire and treatment options we all have to fill in before we go through. I’ve opted for a facial and scalp massage.

“You know…” he says suggestively, not looking up from his clipboard, “we could skip the treatments and we could go upstairs, grab a bottle of oil, and have our own massage time.” He looks up and gives me a wink, while I just stare back at him with an emotionless expression.

“I'd rather rake myself over hot coals and then dance on broken glass,” I mumble from behind the treatment brochure I’m pretending to read.

“Your loss, and may I suggest you ask if they can remove the stick out of your ass, you’ve been a grump all afternoon.” He’s right, I have been. I’ve not been able to shake the panicky feeling fully since the incident with Brett, but Harry wouldn’t know that. I’ve got very good at hiding it over the years and masked it as me just being, well, a moody bitch, but if that’s what I need to do to protect myself, then that’s the role I’ll play.

“And may I suggest, you go for the holistic package and get your chakras realigned? You might come out a half-decent person.”

“Haha, you're so funny. No, I’ve gone with the treatments you suggested. I’m hoping I get Cindy over there.” He gestures to the petite blonde spa therapist standing behind reception and I roll my eyes in annoyance.

“She’s got her work cut out with these bad boys,” he says, pulling up the sleeves of his robe and flexing his huge biceps.

Damn, why is he so hot and so irritating?

“I'll give Cindy a warning,” I mumble dryly.

She calls Harry's name, and he saunters off with her. Suddenly, his words play over in my head. I’ve gone for the treatments you suggested …. Oh shit! I’m out of my seat and rushing over to a short guy with salt and pepper hair and glasses who is standing behind the reception desk. “Hello, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“Hi, my friend, Harry, who just went in, what treatment did he sign up for?”

“I’m sorry ma’am we can’t divulge that information to you. Client confidentiality.”

“I understand but please, I’m just worried he’s signed himself up for something he doesn’t understand,” I say pleading with the man.

“I’m sorry I can’t comment on Mr. Walker's treatment.” Letting out an annoyed huff I continue my plea.

“Look I need to make sure he hasn’t signed up for a certain treatment, please, I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we can’t share anything with you.”

I let out a frustrated breath. “Okay, thank you.”

I walk back and slump in the seat. Shit. I didn’t think he was actually listening to me earlier. I’ve had those treatments and yes, I felt great after, but during, it was brutal. Let's just hope he can handle it.

I float out of my treatment room feeling like a new woman and ready for a little nap before tonight’s antics. I find the rest of the gang looking as relaxed as I do, lounging on various couches in the waiting area. Everyone but Harry. I take a seat next to Gabby and reach for a glass of water and a chocolate that sits in a round, glass dish on the low table in the center of the seating area.

“Haz, you alright?” Jack calls. Harry is walking over to us like a jockey who's lost his horse.

“No, I feel like I’ve been assaulted.” His tone is weary.

Oh shit. I reach for a magazine, opening it up, and pretend I’m reading, only glancing up every so often.

“What do you mean?” Brad asks, narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t know what the fuck just went on back there, but I need to lodge a complaint.”

“What happened?” Gabby asks. “You are really red all round your neck.”

“I thought I was going to have Cindy, but some big Hungarian linebacker named Alan came in and said he was doing my treatment. Turns out, Cindy was just showing me to my room. It started off fine, a nice massage but then I saw the trolley with glasses on it.”

I peek out from behind my magazine and look at him. He's all wide-eyed, like he is reliving a horror story and I can’t look at him. If I do, the guilt will eat me up.

“I think, oh, maybe he’s making us a cocktail… he wasn’t. Not even fucking close. He takes these jars and a blowtorch. Tells me to lie still and not move.”

A little squeak escapes me, because I can just picture him in that moment and though I feel bad, it gives me a little giggle, but no one notices my reaction and Harry continues, “I say, ‘Hey Alan, where do you think you are putting that my friend’ but before I can ask again, he puts the flame in the glass and then sticks it on my fucking back.”

“He what?” Jack gasps.

“Yeah, on my back, twelve of them, if I counted correctly, sucked my skin right up in that jar like a vacuum. My back was covered in these little bulb-looking glasses. I looked like a human light fixture.”

“Oh, my god,” Gabby yells, clamping her hand over her mouth. “It’s called cupping. You had cupping.”

“It’s called what now?” Harry barks.

“Cupping. It’s an ancient healing treatment, supposed to be relaxing and really good for you. Me and Ali had it done once.”

I peek a look over the top of the magazine to see Harry looking at Gabby deadpan.

“Gabriella, I can assure you nothing about what I just went through was relaxing nor good for me.” He rubs a frustrated hand over his face, and I go back behind my magazine.

“Didn’t you read the treatment details when you signed the consent form?” Brad chimes in.

“Well, clearly not, Bradley,” he bites back.

“Who doesn’t read a form properly before signing it?” Jack says.

“Me apparently.” Harry hollers pointing to himself.

“Anyway, so back to my story, So, after that torture, and the glasses are removed, he starts massaging me, but he gets on me, on the bed with these large sticks and starts rolling them over me and then kneading me with his big callous hands like I’m fucking bread dough.”

I can’t help it. A little laugh escapes me, and I place the magazine fully over my face and sink into my seat.

“When he suggested I roll over so he could do the front, I was outta there.”

I move the magazine to look at him. His face is full of tension and he’s shuddering.

“Is your back okay?” Ria asks, rolling her lips like she’s trying not to laugh. Harry stands and removes his robe, and everyone gasps in unison.

“What-what, what's wrong?” He twists to try and look at his back but can’t.

“Let me take a photo,” Brad says, trying to keep it together. He pulls his phone from his robe pocket, takes a picture and shows Harry.

“What the fuck?” he manages to stutter. “I look like a walking Twister mat.”

“Well, that’ll teach you for not reading the form properly,” Brad chokes out barely keeping it together.

And that is it. I can't contain it anymore. A laugh escapes my lips and I clamp a hand over my mouth.

Harry looks over at me, eyes blazing with anger. “I’m glad you find it funny. You weren't just beaten half to death by Alan.”

He walks towards me, and I rise to my feet. “You did this to me.” His tone is accusatory.

“I believe I was in my own treatment room having a lovely scalp massage. Couldn't possibly have been me.” I smile so widely that I bare all my teeth.

“I need to speak to a manager."

“Oh, calm down, Karen. Don't be so dramatic.” I stand up throwing down my magazine. “It’s a few marks. You'll live. Besides, it’s your fault you didn’t read the damn form. Consider this karma for thinking with your dick and not your head.”

“Don't be dramatic,” he yells, loud enough for other guests to start noticing. “Look at me.” He turns showing me his back, which is covered in what can only be described as twelve giant hickeys.

“Yeah, it’s not great, is it? But at least it’s not as bad as diarrhea,” I say.

Our narrowing eyes lock, and I give him a challenging stare.

“This is your fault,” he spits. “You told me to get it done when you were oiling yourself up.” He moves his hands over his body mimicking my actions from earlier. “Oh, Harry get the cupping done and release all that built up tension.” His tone is mocking. I fold my arms across my chest in annoyance.

“It’s not my fault you were too busy gawking at me instead of listening.”

“Any red-blooded male would have been staring at you, Ali. The way you were rubbing yourself…”

“What, where were you rubbing yourself?” Gabby asks.

“Nowhere. I was putting sunblock on and Pervy Perversion over here couldn’t stop staring and I may have suggested a treatment or two that he could go for. Not my fault he’s an idiot and didn’t read the form.”

“You B—” Before he can finish his words, I speak over him.

"Play dumb games with me, Harry Walker, and you will win dumb prizes.” I felt bad, but now he’s rattled me, and I’m pissed.

“You've turned me into a human Twister mat,” he yells.

“And you gave me diarrhea, you asshole,” I yell back.

“Oh, so this is what this is all about you—”

“He gave you what?” Jack interrupts obviously completely perplexed.

“He’s been fucking me over since you guys got here.”

“What you’ve just done to me is way worse than what I did to you,” Harry shouts.

“You’re lucky I didn’t sign you up for a colonic because lord knows you’re full of shit,” I bite back. “Besides, this is on you. I just made a suggestion. I didn’t think you were dumb enough to follow through with it.”

“Right, whatever this is between you two, stop and figure it out. You need to find a way to be around each other before we go out tonight. You two can go for a drink, hash this out, and end it,” Jack shouts.

“Nah, come on, Jack, where's the fun in that? I’m quite enjoying this. I want to see what happens next.” Brad grins, propping his feet up on the table and folding his arms across his broad chest.

Harry and I go back, glaring at one another, not saying a word.

“Have I made myself clear? This ends now. If I wanted to parent on this vacation, I’d have brought my girls.” Jack clears his throat and continues scolding us. “Now, Harry, I'd maybe wear a shirt for the rest of the trip. You wouldn't want to scare anyone. And for the love of God, read before you sign anything, you should know better.”

I snort.

“And Ali, lighten up on him, alright,” Jack pleads.

I tut . “Sure.”

“Right, before you go, I want you both to say something nice about each other,” Jack demands.

“Excuse me,” Harry and I blurt out in unison.

“Say one nice thing about each other,” he repeats.

“You can’t be serious,” Harry whines.

“Deadly. We do this with the girls when they are fighting, and since you two are behaving like children, you can do this exercise.”

“Daddy Jack has spoken,” Brad chuckles.

“Usually when there’s a conflict, it’s because you aren’t communicating properly. You need to open up and speak to one another,” Jack says.

Harry eyes Ria. “Ri, have you been letting him watch Dr. Phil again? What was that bullshit that just came out of his mouth?” She holds her hands up, giving a look of ‘not my doing’.

Jack taps Harry on the shoulder. “Hey, he’s a very insightful man. Now Harry, say something nice about Ali.” Jack gestures to me.

He huffs. “You have a nice ass and—”

“Harry,” Jack scolds, flicking Harry’s chest with the back of his hand.

“You have pretty eyes, and I like it when you laugh,” he says sounding begrudging, folding his arms over his still-exposed chest like a petulant child.

“Nice. Now Ali” he says, gesturing to Harry, “say something nice about Harry.”

What the heck do I say?

“Ali…” Jack says.

“Yeah, I need a minute.”

“Really?” he deadpans.

“Yes,” I bite back.

“It's okay, give her a minute. I have so many good qualities, it’s going to take her a hot second to decide on my best one,” Harry says, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

“You’re not terrible to look at and I guess you make me laugh when you aren't making me feel like I’m losing brain cells listening to you talk.”

“Really, Ali,” Jack groans, rubbing an exasperated hand over his face.

“Best I can do.” I shrug.

“I’ll take it. She said I’m funny.” Harry smiles.

“Didn't say I found your humor funny did I, just you make me laugh with your-”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Jack announces, clapping his hands together. “Now you two will figure this out and we'll meet in the casino for dinner at 8 pm.”

If Jack thinks we can get along, he's more delusional than Harry is, but for him and Ria, I will at least try.