Chapter 14 #3
Her face reddens dramatically at that statement. “Oh, so you’re an expert?”
I lock eyes with her. “Pretty much.” I’m not going to deny that I’ve had enough sex to know how to please my partner. Good sex isn’t about me, it’s about making the other person feel good, which makes everything about it better for me too.
“You’ll have to let me know how that works for you. You know, once you finally meet the right woman to settle down with.”
I keep my eyes on hers, feeling so many things I’ve never felt before but being far too chicken to say any of them.
“I will.” I pick up the plate of meat and dump it back into the sauce and give the pasta another stir.
And now her lack of response means it’s starting to feel awkward.
“So, are you all packed for your flight tomorrow?”
“Just about. I feel like I’m packing way too much for one weekend, but I also feel like I won’t know what I need until I’m there.”
“Have you been to Las Vegas before?” I ask.
“Never.”
“Oh, you’re in for an experience.”
“Yeah? What’s your favorite thing about it?”
“Everything,” I say with a low chuckle. “It’s like, whatever you want, you can find it there. Vegas was made for guys like me,” I tell her. I’ve said it before and meant it, but it sounds like a lie to me now.
“Guys like you?” she asks, and bites her lower lip.
I hate it when she does anything that draws attention to those lips, because it makes me think about how I want them on my body—I want to nibble on her full lower lip, I want to feel her lips trace a path down my abdomen on their way to my sweatpants.
And like I’m a teenager again, now I’m hard just thinking about her and those stupid, luscious lips.
“Thrill seeking, pleasure-centric, indulgent assholes.” I shrug as I angle my body toward the stove so my back is to her.
“You’re not an asshole, Beau.” Her words are soft, too kind.
“Not right now. But only because you and Winston have given me something to think about besides myself. Otherwise, I’d be out with Drew and Lance right now, and every night since getting here, raising hell.
” I grab the pot of pasta and carry it to the sink to drain it.
With my back to her, I add, “It’s too bad you don’t need a date for the wedding, I’d be an amazing Vegas tour guide. ”
Her pause is a beat too long, before she says, “Yeah, too bad, a tour guide would have been great.”
The music is so loud I can’t distinguish the beat from my own pulse.
The bar is packed tonight and bodies are crowded together, pressing in on me, but I’m trying to keep my focus on the hot blonde who’s practically attached to the front of me.
My left hand is slung over her shoulder as she grinds against my thigh, and the only reason I notice the text message come across my watch is because it lights up right at eye level.
I glance over at it and see Sierra’s name.
I lean down so the blonde—who has a name, I’m sure, but I didn’t retain it—can hear me.
Her hair smells like coconut when I want it to smell like strawberries.
My nose accidentally brushes along the side of her cheekbone on my mouth’s way to her ear, and I see her eyes flutter shut. “I’ll be right back.”
She glances over at me, eyes wide open now.
“Okay,” she says, but her smile looks forced, like she can’t believe I’m leaving her on the dance floor by herself.
She could have had any guy in this bar and she knows it, but she chose me.
At one time, that would have made me feel powerful.
Instead, I feel slightly guilty that I’ve snagged a prize I don’t really want.
I nod to Lance as I head over toward the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the bar, where there’s a little more room to breathe. My watch buzzes a second time, and I pull my phone out to see two messages from Sierra.
Sierra
I could have used your tour guide-level expertise tonight.
Sierra
I wish you were here.
The first text is playful and fun, but the second has me wondering if she means it, or if she’s just drunk. My finger hovers over her phone number as I look around for the bathroom, because I figure that’s the only place in here quiet enough that I’ll be able to hear her voice.
Luckily, it’s empty when I enter. One ring and she answers. “Beau, hi!”
“Hey, everything okay?” I lean back against the tiled wall by the paper towel dispensers, my knee bent and my foot propped against the wall so nothing but my shoulders are touching it.
“Everything’s great,” she says, but the enthusiasm sounds forced.
In the background I can hear a pop song remixed with a techno beat.
“Sydney and Joe, and Luke and Georgia—that’s Joe’s brother and sister-in-law—are dancing,” she yells.
“But I’ve been the fifth wheel all night and my feet are killing me. . .”
“I give great foot massages,” I tell her and she groans.
“Now I really wish you were here. I can’t dance anymore, I’m headed back to my room.”
“Whoa,” I say, suddenly very alert. “Did you tell your sister you’re leaving? You shouldn’t be going alone.”
“She knows. We’re at a club in our hotel. I’m just headed out to the lobby and then up to my room. I’m not wandering around Vegas alone.”
“I’m staying on the phone with you until I know you’re safe in your room,” I say. She doesn’t sound drunk—no slurred words or inexplicable laughter or lost trains of thought—but I still want to know she arrived there safely.
“Sure.” The sound of the music on her end fades, so I assume she’s left the club.
“I’m stopping and taking my heels off. My feet can’t take one more second in these shoes.
I wish you were offering that foot message in person.
Where are you, anyway?” she asks right as someone pushes the bathroom door opens and music floods the small room.
I nod at the guy as he passes me and heads straight to the urinals.
“I’m at a bar downtown with Lance and Drew.”
“Why did you call?” she asks, sounding both hopeful and curious.
“Just wanted to hear your voice.” It’s true, and it sounds better than I wanted to make sure you weren’t wishing I was there because you’re hammered.
“I’m glad.” She sighs. “I’m so used to seeing you every day.”
On her end I can hear the elevator ding, and realize she wasn’t kidding about not having far to go to get back to her room. I glance at my watch. It’s almost midnight here, which means it’s not quite eleven there. “You didn’t expect to miss me this much, did you?” I tease.
“I really didn’t.” Her answer surprises me. “I wish you’d come with me.”
“I wish you’d invited me,” I say before I can think better of it.
“I should have,” she says. She pauses for a second, then tells me, “I didn’t want to make it weird.”
“Why would it be weird?” I ask, walking away from the sinks as urinal guy washes his hands.
It’s not that I don’t know the answer, I just want to hear her say it.
I need the reminder that I’m not the guy for her, because when I’m around her, it’s hard to remember that we make no sense together.
That she’s better off without me—and for the first time ever, I care more about that than about the instant gratification of a night in her bed.
“You know why, Beau,” she says. Her voice is low and sensual, and I her to use that voice every time she says my name from now until forever. Shit, these feelings are too much, and way too soon. “But I really wish you were here now.”
“So you’ve mentioned.” I hope she can hear the smile in my voice.
Through the phone, I hear a door open and shut. “I’m back in my room, by the way.”
“Good. What’s your hotel room number?”
“Why?” she asks.
“I’m going to have something delivered tomorrow that’ll help you have a better weekend.”
“Is it a stripper?” She laughs.
“That wasn’t the plan, no.”
“One of those foot massage chairs? I could use one of those right now.”
“Also no.”
“Ooh, I know!”
“No”—I chuckle—“you really don’t.”
“Can’t I even guess?” She sounds like she’s pouting.
“You can, but I need to get out of this bathroom and as soon as I walk back out into the bar, I won’t be able to hear all your ridiculous ideas about this delivery.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go then. Oh, and my room number is twenty-six fifteen.”
“Your weekend will get better,” I say, praying I’m right about this. “I promise.”
“Thanks. And Beau, for what it’s worth, I miss you.”
Is that a fucking lump in my throat? I look in the mirror, expecting to see someone else looking back and me.
But no, same old Beau. Except this version of him gets choked up when a girl says she misses him.
“Miss you too,” I say, my throat thick. “Have a good night.” I hang up the phone before I do something crazy like make promises I can’t keep.
I head out to the bar, find Drew at our table, and tell him I’m leaving. “Minor family emergency,” I tell him. It’s half true since Sierra is almost more a member of my family than I am. “I’m headed out of town for the weekend.”
“What? Is everything okay?” he sits up, leaning away from the girl who’s snuggled into his side.
“It will be. Don’t worry, nothing major.
I’ll see you next week.” I grab my jacket before he can ask too many questions and head outside.
I have a very short window of time to pull this all off.
My adrenaline is pumping and I know I need to do this before I have time to stop and question whether it’s a good idea.
Because in the back of my mind, I know it’s either the best or the worst idea I’ve ever had. And only Sierra will be able to determine which is right.