Gambling on the Bodyguard

by Sarah Ballance

  “When I saw your text,” he said, “I was terrified something had happened to you. That you were hurt. That you could have been…and lost it. And I just couldn’t deny it anymore.”

  Her breath caught. “Deny what?”

  His gaze cradled her. “I love you, baby. I know I don’t deserve you, but I love you and all I want is the chance to show you that. Every day. You and your clumsy dog and your scary friend and even these goddamn mountains…whatever it takes, whatever I have to prove. I just want to be with you.”

  She smiled. Wary. Afraid to believe. “These mountains aren’t going anywhere, you know.”

  “I know, and I get it. But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere either.”

  Ellie’s throat clogged, and her heart soared, and still she was afraid to believe. “You don’t have to do this.”

  He gave the slightest shake of his head and curled his fingers through hers. “If you think I was going to make it one more week without you, then I’m saying this all wrong. Because I can’t. I don’t want to.”

  Ellie wiped fresh tears from her eyes. “Taylor told me I should call you. That you had a right to know how I felt, but you watched me leave, and you didn’t care. What I felt for you then didn’t change anything. I didn’t think it would now.”

  “Baby, I watched you go, and I died inside. I’m not me without you. Not anymore.”

  “Me too,” she whispered. “And were an ass to leave me like you did. Hotel stationary has to be a new low.”

  He eased from the chair to the floor. “Understood, and in that respect I would like it noted I am on not one, but two knees.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Realizing how cold my hands are, for one. I can’t feel my fingers.”

  “I know you’re a tourist and all, but bringing a jacket to a ski resort in February is kind of a no brainer. Gloves are pretty much in the same category.”

  “Screw the jacket. I had places to go. Home wasn’t one of them.” He fished around in his pocket with his free hand and came up with a ring.

  No box. Just a ring.

  Ellie blinked.

  “Jax…”

  “Ellie Colorado Montgomery, winner of slots, eater of bacon, wearer of pancake syrup.”

  Despite the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off him, she couldn’t help but notice a couple of heads swivel in their direction at that last part. “Easy now,” she whispered through a fresh set of tears. “This is a small town.”

  “Not too small for pancakes, I hope. And breakfast in bed.”

  At this rate, there would be no controlling the waterworks. “You do realize that no actual part of my name is Colorado?”

  “Doesn’t matter. What does Mathis do for you?”

  Her heart settled in her throat. Did a few cartwheels. “Is that ring for me?”

  He laughed. “God, I hope so. You saved me, Ellie. Somehow I don’t think asking you to endure me for a lifetime is a fair trade, but I love you. I’ve spent the last five weeks counting the ways and the reasons. I love you, and I need you, and I just pray it’s not too late. Will you marry me?”

  Despite the obvious clue of the ring itself, she nearly fell from the hard plastic chair. “How could it possibly be too late? Of course I’ll marry you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She threw her arms around him, and he stood, lifting her. Spinning her around to the sound of applause. By the time he set her down, she was shaking. Dogs howled in the chaos. Somewhere in the room, at least one cat had to have drawn blood.

  He slid the ring on her finger. “They didn’t have one in the store that could outshine the sun,” he said of the diamond, “but this one came close.”

  She held up her hand. A simple solitaire, if a rock the size of her knuckle could be considered simple. A band of gold that was a perfect fit. “Is this real?”

  His face froze. “Of course it’s real. The receipt is in the truck with the box. I just thought the box would be a little obvious in my pocket, but it’s legit.”

  She laughed. “No, not that. You…here. Are you sure?”

  Relief softened his features. “I’m sure. Never been more sure of anything. I love you.”

  She wiped away a fresh deluge of tears. The Colorado River had nothing on her. “I love you. I can’t believe…I thought you said you couldn’t come here.”

  “I’m here. I’m here until you kick me out.” He leaned down and placed a whisper-soft kiss on her lips. “But if it’s okay, there is one thing I need to do. There’s a mountain not too far from here I’d like to visit. It’s past time I climb it. Give myself a chance to see what’s on the other side.”

  Ellie nodded, tears in her eyes. “I think Gracie would like that.”

  “Will you come with me?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s you and me, Colorado. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Hours later, when the morning sun broke over the eastern ridges, they stood together on the top of a mountain. Jax carried a red rose, Ellie a paper airplane.

  And they threw them off the side of the mountain together.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  Las Vegas

  Jax was nervous. Nervous wasn’t a thing he did, but if the difficulty he was having with his cufflinks were any indication, he was in a world of trouble. “Are you sure you want to do this here?”

  Ellie, some kind of ethereal sex goddess in a clingy white gown, stared at him in mock horror. At least he hoped it was a show, because he’d been on one of those this is too good to be true trips since they’d landed. “Are you kidding me? Where else?”

  “Somewhere less quickie, perhaps?” He gave up on the cuff links and tossed them on the bed. He couldn’t believe his life. Ellie had sold her former shrine to Focker in Minturn and they’d bought a place in Vail. She called it a chalet. He called it a pain in the ass to get up the mountain when the snow fell. But they both called it home, at least when they weren’t in Vegas, and that was what mattered. Even the mutt liked it, but Murphy didn’t have a grumpy bone in his body. If a dog could smile, the pooch never quit. Together, they were the closest thing he’d had to a family in a long time, but he hadn’t stopped thinking of the baby they hadn’t had. Especially after he’d called his mom. Sixteen years after she told him he was no longer her son, she cried when she heard his voice.

  He had, too.

  He’d also funneled his loss into something useful, teaching kids the finer points of pizza and French fries. The beginning ski positions took him back more than twenty years, when his kid sister had been so determined to out-ski him that she’d used her allowance to pay for extra lessons behind his back. For the first time since Gracie died, he welcomed the memories.

  Thought of her and smiled.

  You’d have loved Ellie, he told her. God knew he did.

  “I happen to be quite fond of quickies,” Ellie murmured, dragging him out of his thoughts and in for a kiss. “Especially with you.”

  He held out his hands and made a half-hearted attempt to back away from her. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to wrinkle your dress.”

  “I thought you didn’t care.”

  “I think that sounds like an invitation.” He didn’t wait for confirmation. Didn’t give her a chance to argue. He lifted her to sit on the table, pushing the skirt of her dress out of the way until there was nothing between him and her spread legs but his zipper and a wet thong. He didn’t know how anyone could wear one of those things, but he was glad she did.

  “Consider it a demand.” She went for his zipper. He went for his pocket. Ellie was allergic to something in birth control pills, so he’d been buying latex by the bucketful.

  “Don’t,” she said.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t use anything,” she said a little shyly. “Unless you want to, I mean. But it’s okay if you don’t.”

  His heart soared. “Are you sure? You mean
we could…?”

  “Yes.” No hesitance. Just his.

  He stood there on weak knees while she took out his cock. Her hands on him were bliss. Cold, but so damn good. “We have fifteen minutes,” she said.

  “I’m going to need two. Maybe three.” Hard as a rock, he pushed inside her, nothing between them but slick heat. Fuck. “Maybe one.”

  She fell back, landing on her elbows. Touched her own breasts. Moved her dress out of the way and tugged on her stiff nipples, just like he’d done a thousand times. Smiled sweetly.

  Game on, sweetheart.

  Seemed like they’d been there once before.

  With a grunt, he dragged her toward him. Held her legs at just the right angle, and ground against her until all that tight, wet heat started to convulse around him. She abandoned her breasts to grasp uselessly at the polished wood tabletop. His balls sputtered protest, but he held out until some of her urgency settled into contentment, then he fucked her hard. Slammed into her until he thought the table would break. Had her calling his name all over again. When he came, he thought he’d hit the floor, but there was no way he was missing the sensation of feeling her body surround his. He managed to pick her up and carry her to the bed before he collapsed, only to feel her mouth intimately on him.

  “Quicker than a shower,” she teased with a grin.

  “In that case…” He flipped her over and returned the favor, lapping at her until he got so worked up he had to sink into her one last time.

  One last time before they were married.

  They were ten minutes late for their allotted fifteen-minute ceremony, but fortunately Elvis had yet to leave the building. They ran down the aisle, hand in hand. Jax’s shirt wasn’t buttoned all the way, and she was barefoot.

  But she was still his fucking sun.

  “Do you?” a scowling Elvis asked. Apparently No Shoes, No Shirt, Bad Service was a thing there.

  “I do,” she said.

  Elvis turned to Jax. “Do you?”

  “I do.”

  They traded rings to the music of an off key rendition of Blue Hawaii while being showered in fake casino chips.

  And in every way that mattered, life began again.

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  Acknowledgments

  Readers, YOU GUYS, you make it happen. Especially those of you reading all the way back here. And my street team. Seriously, people, I could not be more honored.

  I also absolutely have to thank my former-but-not-old editor Kerri-Leigh Grady, who told me about the Vegas series. And then my most-of-the-time editor, Tracy Montoya, for saying yes, I should definitely do The Vegas. And props to I-can’t-believe-she-hasn’t-blocked-my-email-address Vegas right hand Robin Haseltine, who had the patience of a saint while I harassed her incessantly over all the Vegas series things. And of course to Liz, who helped me plot and bring this story to life.

  AND THEN THERE WAS LISA. My awesome this-is-Vegas editor somehow got stuck with me for this book and has YET to stab me with a sharp object. (Or a dull one.) She’s been a rock star, and I’m forever grateful for her attention to this manuscript.

  I also have to credit my super cool parents who took me to Las Vegas when I was a teenager, which made me want to drag my city-hating husband there twenty years later. And he freaking loved it. So now we have a place, and how could I *not* write a book about our place?

  And on that note, Michelle, you rock so hard. Thank you for being there for every word. You complete me. (I think you’re the crazy half, but we’ll keep that between us.)

  And finally, to my future in-law (because our five-year-olds claim they are engaged and want twenty kids) and forever bestie, Melissa, who is probably so sick of hearing me talk about Vegas that she’s likely in the fetal position right now as she reads this. One day, my friend, I’ll have you out there on the Vegas Strip, even if I have to cram you into my luggage to make it happen. (Wait, is that weird? That wasn’t supposed to be weird. Ah, well. You know what they say about Vegas…)

  About the Author

  Sarah and her husband of what he calls “many long, long years” live on the Mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly adorable when they’re asleep. She never dreamed of becoming an author, but as a homeschooling mom, she often jokes she writes fiction because if she wants anyone to listen to her, she has to make them up. (As it turns out, her characters aren’t much better than the kids). When not buried under piles of laundry, she may be found adrift in the Atlantic (preferably on a boat) or seeking that ever-elusive perfect writing spot where not even the kids can find her. Though she adores nail-biting mystery and edge-of-your-seat thrillers, Sarah writes in many genres including historical, contemporary, and supernatural romance and romantic suspense.

  Find her @ www.sarahballance.com | http://sarahballance.wordpress.com | www.facebook.com/sarah.ballance.author.news | www.twitter.com/sarahballance | www.pinterest.com/sarahballance34 | www.goodreads.com/author/show/4103362.sarah_ballance

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