by Jana Aston
But I’m trapped. Wedged in by a waiter on one side and an actress on the other. I turn to find Vince is feet away, and he’s definitely pissed.
“Mrs Rossi,” he says once he’s come to a stop a few feet away as I look for another avenue of escape. “Stop. Right. There.”
I glance at Lydia and shrug just as she shrieks, “You married him!”
“Freaking Las Vegas, am I right?” I shrug again as if to express that I have zero accountability in this surprise wedding.
“When?” Lydia demands. “When did this happen? How did this happen? You only met him two weeks ago! Payton! And you didn’t even invite me?”
Shit. “I would have,” I say slowly because I would have. I didn’t mean to exclude her, but it’s not like it was planned. “If I’d known it was happening. I absolutely would have invited you. You’d have made a much better maid of honor than Canon, that’s for sure. My hair was a mess and he didn’t even tell me. The wedding photos are horrible.”
“There are photos?”
“Yeah. I think they came with the package. Did they come with the package, Vince?” When I look at him I realize something. He called me Mrs Rossi. He looks like he wants to murder me, but he called me Mrs Rossi. He’s never called me that before.
“When did this happen?” Lydia asks.
“Um, sometime after the auction but before the next morning. Somewhere in there. Things got a little crazy. I don’t want to beat a dead horse about you missing it, but that night was a real good time.”
“So why are you avoiding Vince now?” she asks. “Vince, also known as your husband. Why are you avoiding him if you’re married?”
“Calm down. Everyone knows what happens in Vegas isn’t legally binding.” Just as soon as the judge signs off on that annulment it won’t be legally anything. It’ll just be undone.
“That’s not a thing that is true,” Lydia replies while Vince exhales and closes the remaining distance between us, placing a hand on my back in a very obvious attempt to physically hold onto me so I don’t take off again.
“Enough. We need to talk,” Vince says, and he doesn’t appear to be in the mood for me to reschedule our talk until tomorrow, so I guess we’re doing this now.
“Ugh. Talking is the worst.” I groan. Unless… unless he wants to call me Mrs Rossi again? I liked that, very much. But why did he call me Mrs Rossi if he’s not interested in being married? Just to get my attention? To remind me I’m only a temporary Mrs Rossi? Or is there something more going on here?
Chapter Thirty-One
Vince takes my hand, his grip firm as if he’s leaving no chance that I’ll snatch my hand away and disappear into the crowd. His tug is firm as well, as he moves through the crowd towards the hall pulling me along with him. I think we’re leaving, but he stops when we hit the casino floor. It’s less crowded here but just as noisy. The machines are blaring and people are mingling and talking.
So I’m caught off guard when Vince presses me against the side of a twenty-five-cent slot machine and kisses me. Really kisses me. Hands on the side of my face, tongue down my throat, knee between my thighs kind of kissing. He doesn’t even seem to care that we’re in public and missing an invisibility cloak.
When his lips break from mine he’s breathing heavily, his eyes locked on mine.
“Tell me again how it’s fine that you were served with annulment papers ending this.”
I guess he’s got a real fixation with the words ‘it’s fine.’
“Sure,” I reply. “As soon as you tell me how it’s fine that your ex-girlfriend filed the paperwork for you.”
His eyes widen and I want to yell ‘haha, take that, fucker,’ but I refrain.
“What do you know about Gwen?”
Exactly the response every woman wants to hear.
I tug myself out of his embrace and give him the dirtiest look I can muster for a woman who was just kissed in a way that she thought was leading to an orgasm, not a fight.
“I know she’s your ex-girlfriend. I know she works for you. I know she prepared the annulment paperwork.”
“Okay.” His brows rise in surprise, then he blows out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can see how this looks to you.”
“Yup.” I pop the ‘p’ and cross my arms, glaring. Wait. “How does this look to me?” I ask just to make sure we’re on the same page.
“Yes, Gwen and I used to date. Years ago, Payton. It’s been over for years and it was barely anything to begin with. And yes, she works at my firm. And yes, I asked her to prepare the annulment paperwork for me because that’s her speciality and I was drowning on prep for the case this week. But I can see how utterly stupid that was. Thoughtless. Inconsiderate.”
“You can?” God, he’s hard to argue with.
“I can. I’m sorry, Payton. I thought that was what you wanted when you ran out on me on Sunday. But by Tuesday it wasn’t what I wanted, so I sent an email asking her not to file it while I figured it out. While I figured you out.”
“You did?” Oh, God. He wants to figure me out. He does love me and this feels like hope blossoming in my chest.
“I did.”
“So what happened? Does Gwen secretly still harbor feelings for you and she filed that paperwork anyway in a desperate attempt to break us up?” My eyes are wide as I visualize the scene.
“No, she went into labor.” Vince is frowning at me like I’m nuts.
“Labor?”
“Not mine,” he quickly interjects. “Before your overactive imagination flies off into Neverland. Not my kid. She married a tax attorney two years ago. I hadn’t realized she was that close to maternity leave or I’d not have asked her to deal with it in the first place. I honestly…” He pauses as if this is going to sound so bad he needs to mull the words over before he says them out loud. “I don’t really pay that much attention to her. My firm is fairly large, I’ve got a lot of employees, between there and the club.”
“You have a very nice website,” I offer.
“You were stalking me on my website?” He smiles.
“Maybe. And I apologize for running out on you last Sunday. I really did have a meeting though.”
“Yeah, with your essential oils life coach.” Vince smirks as he runs his hand down my arm and pulls me close again.
“Canon told you that?” My cheeks flame in mortification. “Is nothing sacred with that guy?”
“Not much, no.”
He kisses me again, one hand on my hip, holding me to him, the other cupping my jaw so he can angle my lips exactly how he wants them.
“You’re impulsive,” he says when he breaks off the kiss. “Hasty. You make rash decisions based on whatever amuses you at the moment.”
“Those are all terrible, terrible traits,” I agree. Because he’s not wrong and I’m very self-aware. “But I’m also very self-aware. And I’m adaptable to change. I’m spontaneous and outgoing.”
“How am I supposed to know if I can keep your attention? If this is real for you or a passing fad? If you’ll change your mind in a month or a year?”
“I won’t.” I shake my head. “Not about you. I may be impulsive and a bit crazy and have questionable decision-making skills, but not about the really important things.”
“You offered to share me, Payton. Remember? You offered to be some kind of alternate girlfriend number three,” he reminds me.
“I changed my mind about that!”
He raises his brows as if this proves his point about my indecisiveness.
“I didn’t know then that I was going to fall in love with you. Like crazy in love with you. The kind of love that terrifies me because everything I’ve ever been taught about love is that it’s semi-permanent and in a constant state of flux. But I did and I do and I don’t regret it. I’m willing to risk my heart on loving you.”
“Good.” He smiles a slow, easy smile that makes his eyes light up.
“What does that mean?”
“It me
ans that I love you too. And I’ll spend the rest of my life chasing you, if that’s what I have to do. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep your interest because I’m not living without you if you decide that fate or kismet or a Magic 8-Ball has determined that you should be with someone else.”
“That’s not how fate works, Vince. Kismet is a swan not a porcupine. I wasn’t sure for a couple of days there, I worried that kismet might actually be a cunt, but it’s not.”
“I don’t have any idea what you just said.”
“Swans mate for life and porcupines just run around banging whoever they want to. But it’s not important.”
“Okay then,” Vince replies as he envelops my hand in his and heads in the direction of the valet.
“Are we done talking? Because I still have more questions.”
“We’ll talk in the car.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Where are we going?”
It’s not that I don’t want to be with Vince, because I do. But we’re currently driving out of town and it’s feeling very murder-y because the only thing out of town in Las Vegas is the desert. Deserts, coyotes and wolves. Actually, I’ve got no idea what lives in the deserts outside of Las Vegas.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Exactly what a murderer would say,” I mumble.
“God, Payton, your imagination.” Vince just smiles and shakes his head.
We seem to be headed towards Red Rock, a national park on the outskirts of the city. I haven’t been there yet because I’m not much of an outdoors girl. Especially outdoor areas with bears and stuff.
“Are there any bears in the desert? No, never mind. That doesn’t sound right.”
“No bears. Deer and bighorn sheep, mostly. Coyotes, of course.”
Great.
We’re quiet for a bit until I ask him what I really want to know.
“Tell me why you didn’t tell me about all the charity stuff. Tell me why you’d let me think that strippers were your hobby.”
“Maybe they are my hobby?”
“Vince.” I sigh.
“My mother was a stripper, Payton. She worked her ass off removing her clothing so that I could have everything I needed. Little League and swimming lessons and tutors. Her life revolved around making sure I had everything I needed to succeed, and I had no idea how difficult her life was.”
“Of course you didn’t, Vince, you were a kid.”
“She died in a car accident while I was in my senior year of college. Fell asleep at the wheel and drove off the road. And you know why? Do you know why she died? Because she was exhausted from working three jobs. She was working three jobs because she’d gotten too old to dance for money and there was no exit plan for her, Payton. She was a forty-something woman without a job skill that would pay her a living wage. And I was a college kid who still didn’t have a fucking clue what it takes to make it in the world when no one is helping you.”
“So you made an exit plan,” I say softly, suddenly very touched at what drives him. At this tribute to his mother. “You bought a club and made an exit plan because it’s too late to help your mom, but you can help these women. The scholarships and childcare reimbursement and the good insurance plans.”
“Fuck, Canon is a wordy bitch, isn’t he?”
“Yup.”
“So.” He blows out a breath and changes lanes, speeding past a slow-moving sedan. “Now you know. I don’t do all that stuff because I’m a good person. I do it because I’m fucked up.”
“You’re the least-fucked up strip club owner I’ve ever known.”
“You only think that because you love me.” He reaches over to squeeze my leg and I think it’s all going to be okay. I think whatever happens, we’re going to be okay.
We’re still headed towards Red Rock and I’m sure that’s where we’re going until Vince turns, the car slowing to a stop in front of a large iron gate. Vince hits a button on his visor and a moment later it swings open and we proceed through into what appears to be a remote gated home community. Acreage lots and an excess of trees. It’s very lush, so a lot of care to plant things that will thrive in this climate was taken. Manicured lawns surrounded by desert-friendly gravel and rock to break up the landscape. It takes another two minutes of winding through this development before Vince pulls off the road onto a gravel drive leading to… nowhere. There’s nothing here, just a huge vacant lot. Several acres appear to separate the closest neighbors, but I can see the dull glow of lights on either side. Straight ahead is nothing but a direct view of Red Rock and… a tent?
Vince turns off the engine and circles the hood of the car to open my door. It’s almost chilly, for Nevada, the weather having dipped down to the fifties with the setting of the sun. Vince puts his arm around me and walks me in the direction of the tent, making sure I don’t trip in my heels.
It’s way more than a tent though. It’s a full-fledged glamping setup. The tent flap is zipped back to reveal a freaking full-sized bed inside and I’m guessing that’s a real mattress, not a blow-up. A chandelier is hanging from the branch of a tree covered in fairy lights. A fire pit has been created out of the perfect selection of rocks with a fire already crackling inside. Before the fire pit are two chairs, with something resembling a small tree stump set between, but it’s too perfect to be real so I’m sure it came from a home design store. On top of the stump are all of the necessary bits to make s’mores. A stack of graham crackers, chocolate bars and marshmallows rest inside of a glass-domed cake stand, with two perfect sticks for roasting marshmallows resting beside the cake stand.
I walk closer and that’s when I notice one end of one of the sticks has been painted in pink sparkly nail polish.
Just like the one I had as a kid but never got to use. He’s recreated the camp trip I missed. Well, a way better recreation. Better because he’s here and better because this is more glamping than camping, which is perfect because it was really only the s’mores and the badge I was interested in. I’m going to have to ask him who he hired to pull this off because I’m impressed. This wasn’t something he did himself, this required a team of people and a forklift of some kind to hang all those lights. And a generator, Jesus.
“You remembered,” I say, picking up the stick and running it between my fingers.
“I remember everything you tell me,” he responds. His hands are in his pockets and he’s watching me very carefully as I turn the stick over in my hands.
“Where are we? What is this place?”
“I own this lot,” he says. “I’ve owned it for damn close to a decade.”
“But it’s empty.” I shift my eyes around even though I know a home isn’t about to suddenly appear before me. And this is residential. It’s not like he’s been keeping this lot for dirt biking or whatever people would keep land for.
“I was going to build on it. Real estate is a great investment, so I thought I’d build a home.”
“Why didn’t you? Ten years is a long time to wait for permits.”
He smiles at my joke, a small tug of his lips that makes me smile in return. Then his expression turns serious. “Because I was waiting for you.”
Oh, God. Oh, God! The way he looks at me when he says that, holy hell. The swans in my stomach just threw up because I think my husband might be about to propose to me.
“I hired an architect. Had plans drawn up, the whole bit. I drove out here one day after they’d staked off an outline of the house, to make sure the windows were going to line up with the view in the way I wanted. That the kitchen would open up in the exact right spot to the backyard. That kind of shit.”
“So what happened?”
“This little girl came over.” He laughs when he says it, glancing around at the empty lot. “A Girl Trooper, with a wagon full of cookies. She left the wagon in the street with her mom as she ran up that shitty gravel drive to my nonexistent house asking if I wanted to buy cookies.” He smiles again, shaking his head at the memory. “And I thought
to myself, ‘Vince, what in the hell are you doing? You’re building a family house without a family. You’re building a house your future wife might not like. She should be a part of designing the house, building it.’ So I scrapped the project, but I kept the lot.”
“After you bought every box of cookies that kid had.”
“God, the entire fucking wagon full.” He smiles, remembering. “I want you to be the wife I build a house with. Right here, if you don’t hate this property.”
“I don’t hate it,” I whisper, shaking my head back and forth to reiterate my thoughts on this location.
“I don’t want to fast-pass with you, Payton. I don’t want to skip anything, I want to experience every moment.”
“You do?”
“I do. You and your vivid imagination have gotten me thinking.”
“I have?”
“You have. And I want it all. I want to stand in line with you. I want to experience life with you, Payton, all of it. Every single thing. Even when the dog throws up at three AM and one of us has to get out of bed to deal with it.”
“We have a dog?” I ask.
“We do.” He nods. “And kids. The dog destroys one of their science projects the night before it’s due, but it’s fine because after a lot of tears we stay up all night fixing it. We drink a bottle of wine and laugh about what an asshole our dog is.”
“We have kids?”
“A bunch of kids.” Vince smiles and I think he must be right. I’ll be knocked up around the clock as long as he looks at me like that. Then he pauses. “At least I think we do. Do we?”
“We definitely do. We would make really beautiful babies, it was the first thing I noticed about you.”
“Was it?” His lips twitch in amusement.
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur, biting my lip to hold back a ridiculously sized smile. I like this, all of it. It’s nice to have someone else do the imagining for once. Really nice.
