12. My Fake Husband - The Caveman
MY FAKE HUSBAND - THE CAVEMAN
DAVINA
The Planet Hollywood casino floor pulsed with energy despite the late hour. Everywhere I looked, people were chasing luck, some finding it, most losing it.
I glared at my phone.
“Who are you texting that's making you look like you're contemplating murder?” Brooke slid onto the barstool next to me.
“Nobody.” I shoved my phone into my clutch. “Just checking emails.”
“At midnight? In Vegas?” Brooke's eyebrow arched. “You're the worst liar I've ever met.”
I took a long sip of my drink instead of answering. The whiskey burned on the way down.
“Fine, keep your secrets,” Brooke sighed dramatically. “I'm going to check on Kali. She's either about to lose everything or buy us all Rolexes.” She slid off the stool, steadying herself with a hand on the bar. “Don't go anywhere.”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” I muttered, watching her weave through the crowded casino floor toward the roulette tables.
I signaled the bartender for another drink when I heard the commotion. Over the symphony of slot machines, Brooke's startled yelp cut through like a knife.
My head snapped toward the sound just in time to see her stumbling backward, pink cosmopolitan arcing through the air in slow motion. She'd been shoved by some guy backing away from a blackjack table without looking. Brooke careened directly into a short, stocky man in a suit.
“What the hell!” he barked, his face flushing crimson as Cosmopolitan splashed across his polyester jacket. “Watch where you're going, fat-ass!”
Oh, absolutely not.
I was off my barstool before my brain fully caught up with my body, my heels clicking sharply against the patterned carpet as I closed the distance between us.
The whiskey in my system made me braver than I probably should have been, but the fury burning in my chest would've been enough without the liquid courage.
“That’s enough,” I shouted as he opened his mouth to insult her again. “It was an accident.”
Being a plus-size girl most of my life, I’d dealt with my fair share of people like this guy. People who base my entire worth on my weight.
“Oh, look,” he smirked to his friends. “It’s fat-ass number two.”
A small crowd was starting to gather, sensing drama more entertaining than the craps table. The casino lights reflected off the man's sweaty forehead as he puffed up his chest.
“Look, rumple-short-skin,” I sneered, stepping between him and Brooke. “She already apologized. Now, how about you toddle back to whatever rock you crawled out from under?”
His face turned an impressive shade of purple. “What did you just call me?”
“Oh, I'm sorry. Did the big words confuse you?” I tilted my head. “Let me use smaller ones: You. Rude. Go. Away.”
One of his buddies snickered, which only made him angrier. He stepped closer, his bourbon breath washing over me. “You've got a smart mouth for someone who should be watching what she eats.”
I heard Brooke's sharp intake of breath behind me, but I just smiled sweetly. “And you've got a lot of confidence for someone whose personality is as cheap as that suit. What is that, polyester? Did it come with the free buffet coupon?”
“Listen here, you little…”
“No, you listen, you discount Danny DeVito wannabe,” I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“The only thing more tragic than your fashion choices is your complete lack of basic human decency.
My friend said she was sorry. That should've been the end of it.
But you just had to open that mouth and let all that ugly spill out, didn't you?”
The crowd around us had grown larger. Someone whistled. The man's face was now approaching eggplant territory, veins bulging at his temples.
“You think you're funny?” he snarled, taking another step forward. “You think you can just…”
That's when I felt it.
Heat.
A heat that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and every nerve ending in my body suddenly snapped to attention. A presence directly behind me.
The man's eyes flickered up, his words dying mid-sentence. His expression shifted from rage to confusion, then rapidly settled into something that looked suspiciously like fear. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, taking an involuntary step backward.
I didn't need to turn around to know who was standing there.
“Is there a problem here?” Dallas's voice boomed from behind me.
The man's gaze was locked somewhere above my head, tracking up, up, up until it reached Dallas's face. His mouth opened and closed.
“Holy shit,” one of his friends whispered. “That's... that's The Dominator.”
“I asked you a question.” Dallas's voice was calm, but there was steel underneath it.
“N-no, I…” the man stammered.
“Really?” Dallas moved, stepping to my side. His jaw was set and eyes fixed on the drunk with an intensity that made me glad I wasn't on the receiving end of it. “Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were being an asshole to these ladies, and I really don't like that.”
“It was a misunderstanding,” the man tried, holding up his shaking hands.
“A misunderstanding,” Dallas repeated flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. “That's interesting. Because what I heard was you calling them names. Insulting them.” His head tilted slightly, and there was something predatory in the gesture. “Want to explain to me how that's a misunderstanding?”
The crowd had grown to at least forty people now, all watching. This was better than any show on the strip.
“I didn't…I mean, she spilled…” The man was sweating profusely now, his suit jacket dark with Brooke's cosmopolitan and his own nervous perspiration.
“She apologized for the accident,” I interjected, finding my voice again. “He decided to be a jackass about it anyway.”
Dallas's expression darkened. “Is that so?”
“Look, I've had a long night,” the man tried, his voice cracking. “I didn't mean…”
“You didn't mean to act like a disrespectful piece of shit?” Dallas finished for him.
He took one step forward, but it was enough to make the man and his two friends scramble backward.
“Here's what's going to happen. You're going to apologize.
Right now, and it's going to be sincere.
Then you're going to walk away and think real hard about how you talk to women.”
“I'm sorry!” The words tumbled out in a rush. “I'm really sorry, I was drunk and stupid and…”
“Not to me,” Dallas growled, cutting him off and jerking his head toward Brooke and me. “To them.”
The man turned to us, a mixture of humiliation and fear etched into his face. “I'm so sorry. I was completely out of line. It won't happen again.”
“Damn right it won't,” Brooke muttered, though she'd sobered up considerably in the last two minutes.
Dallas stepped even closer to the man, lowering his voice so only those of us nearby could hear.
“If I hear about you talking to anyone else like that tonight, hell, if I even see you again before I leave this casino, we're going to have a very different kind of conversation. The kind that ends with security scraping you off the floor. We clear?”
The man swallowed hard as he nodded so vigorously I thought his head might fall off. “Crystal clear. I'm leaving right now.” He turned to his friends, who were already backing away. “Come on, let's go.”
They scattered like cockroaches when the lights turned on, disappearing into the crowd that reluctantly began to disperse.
The tension in Dallas's shoulders didn't ease until they were completely out of sight. Then he turned to look at me, and his expression softened.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I'm fine.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Rumple-short-skin? Creative.”
“It was either that or sad potato in a cheap suit, but I thought I'd be classy about it.”
Dallas's laugh was unexpected. “Definitely classy.”
Brooke cleared her throat loudly. “Thanks,” her eyes shifted between us. “But you two really didn’t…”
“We most definitely did,” I smiled at her before glancing up at Dallas. “Men like that need to be put in their place.”
“Come on, ladies,” Dallas said. “Let’s find Kali and get you guys back to the hotel.” His gaze shifted to Brooke. “Tomorrow is the big day. Everyone needs their beauty sleep.”
Brooke led the way through the crowd several steps ahead of us, and Dallas fell into step beside me. His hand found the small of my back, a casual gesture that shouldn't have sent electricity racing up my spine, but absolutely did.
“I had it under control, you know,” I tried to sound annoyed rather than affected by his proximity. “I was just about to make him cry.”
“Oh, I know.” His hand pressed firmly against the small of my back as we navigated through a cluster of tourists. “I have no doubt you would have eviscerated him with words.”
I glanced up at him, catching the heat in his eyes before he looked away. “Then why…”
“Because you're my wife.” He growled. “And no one talks to you like that. I don't care if this is fake, temporary, or whatever the hell we're calling this. Not on my watch.”
The possessiveness in his voice made my insides swoop, and my breath hitched.
“That's very... caveman of you,” I managed, though my voice came out breathier than intended.
“Yeah?” He steered me around a slow-moving couple, his hand sliding from my back to my hip for just a moment. “Did it do something for you, Davidson?”
Yes. No. Maybe? Abso-fucking–lutely…
“I'm just saying I can fight my own battles,” I said, but there was no heat in it.
Dallas stopped walking abruptly, catching my elbow and turning me to face him. We were in a quieter corridor now, and Brooke disappeared toward the escalators. He stepped closer, backing me up against a pillar, one arm braced above my head.
“I know you can,” he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my knees weak. His eyes searched my face, lingering on my lips before dragging back up. “That's one of the things I…” He stopped himself. “I like that about you.”
The corner of my lip curved up. “There are things you like about me?”
“A few,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Very few.”
I raised an eyebrow, leaning into him. “Care to share with the class, Dodger?”
His eyes darkened as he looked down at me. “Your smart mouth, for starters.”
“My smart mouth?” I repeated, letting my gaze drop to his lips before meeting his eyes again. “And here I thought you found it annoying.”
“I find it...” He paused. “Distracting.”
“In a good way?” I pressed, emboldened by the heat in his stare and the whiskey still warming my veins.
Dallas leaned down, close enough that I could feel his breath against my ear. “In a way that makes me think about shutting it up.”
My heart stuttered, and heat rushed through me.
Then Dallas straightened, clearing his throat. “We should catch up with Brooke.” But he offered me his hand. “Before she sends out a search party.”
I slipped my hand into his, trying to ignore how perfectly it fit. “Lead the way, husband.”
The smile that curved his lips was wicked. “After you, wife.”