Waking up in Vegas

by Natasha Preston

  “You don’t sweat from your eyes.”

  “You’ll be bleeding from your fucking eyes in a minute.”

  Mase chuckles, but his eyes do not leave the spinning cherry.

  “You’ve been angrier lately,” Luke states.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “You were a dick to Wren earlier. You’re lucky I didn’t rip your head off.”

  “Please,” I scoff.

  There is no way that Luke could take me. We had one fight when we were around ten. It was over football. He’d fouled me right as I was about to score the winning goal. I kicked his arse. We didn’t speak for about an hour after that. Then everything went back to normal.

  “She’s not that bad, Brody. You’re just a miserable bastard,” Mase mutters as if he can’t be bothered with the conversation.

  For some reason, these guys don’t care about having to bend our plans to suit Wren. It’s not been too bad since she turned eighteen—until now—but before, there was a lot of going on under-eighteen-friendly days and nights out that were boring. We would all get together a couple of times a month, which is a lot when you’re bowling, going to the cinema, playing crazy golf, or skating.

  Not that I’ll admit it, but I do see the value in us sticking together as we get older. If anything goes wrong in my life and my immediate family isn’t there, it’s the Clarks I would turn to. That right there is why I continue to go out as a group and include Wren as much as I can. Family.

  “This machine is broken,” I say, striking out again. I think I have the worst luck in all of Las Vegas.

  Luke laughs. “You’re awful at this, man.”

  “Yeah? How much have you won?”

  “I’m pacing myself.”

  “That means you’re striking out.”

  Mason chuckles and stands up. “I’m out of here, losers.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  He nods his head towards a woman in the corner, biting her lip and giving him her best bedroom eyes.

  “Enjoy, man,” Luke says.

  Mase slaps me on the shoulder as he passes. “I plan to. Catch up later.”

  I lift my eyebrow at Luke. “If he’s ready to catch up with us later, I feel sorry for her.”

  Luke shrugs. “He can’t go over and over all night.”

  “You know this how?”

  “You can just tell. He blows through women more often than us because he can only manage one time.”

  Laughing, I slot another coin in the machine. “I love how you think you have less women than us.”

  “Not both of you, just Mason. You’re way behind, bud.”

  “Quality over quantity.”

  Luke turns his nose up like he cannot comprehend what I’ve just said.

  “And how do you know who is quality before you fuck them?”

  I shake my head. “You might have started before me, but you still have a lot to learn.” He glares. “You can just tell, man. Call it instinct.”

  “Whatever, you’re chatting shit. You ready to move on?”

  “Yeah, I’m done here. Roulette now?”

  Luke grins. “Proper gambling. I’m in.”

  “Just don’t bet your passport.”

  “I’m not that competitive.”

  We get up and walk deeper into the casino. The bright lights and cha-ching of the machines draw me in.

  “Hello, honey,” Luke mutters, turning his head towards a group of women who are sitting around the roulette table. “Looks like our luck is changing. Happy birthday, man. Take your pick.”

  I scan the group. All of them are beautiful. The one with her hands on her hips is the one I fancy most. She is probably my best bet for a decent fuck. But something past the entrance, just outside the casino, catches my eye. Wren walks past, her eyes wide with wonder as she looks around the hotel, bottom lip between her teeth, tiny shorts showing off toned, naked legs.

  I snap my head back to the group.

  No. What the fuck. No.

  Five

  Brody

  A day of gambling sounds more fun than it is. My arse is numb, and I’m two hundred and fifty dollars worse off.

  Mase won’t tell us how he’s done, so I can only assume he’s now broke. Even after an hour break to shag his first Vegas victim.

  Emma and Felicity did quite well when they joined us, but neither of them is off to buy a yacht just yet.

  “Wren said to meet in some barbecue place,” Emma says, glancing at her phone as we leave the casino. “Where is that?”

  “Ask Wren,” Felicity replies.

  I’m ready for more food and beer. Despite the massive portion I had at lunch, I’m starving again. The casino is buzzing with activity—the hotel the same. Everyone has large smiles and energy syphoned from children.

  “Ah, there!” Emma exclaims loudly, drawing the attention of the whole lobby.

  Though conversations are loud, I can still hear the clinging of slot machines and the cheers from the roulette table. I’m going back for blackjack later—that I can do.

  Wren is sitting at a table for six when we get inside. She has a cocktail, which I’m assuming is alcohol-free. As far as I’m aware, she doesn’t have a fake ID, and Vegas is pretty hot on that shit. Not that it doesn’t happen.

  She still has on those shorts.

  Okay, be nice.

  I sit down beside her. “How was the wall?”

  “Awesome. How was putting coins in a little slot?”

  Smirking, I raise my eyebrows. “We could go find out.”

  Wren tilts her head. “How old are you again?”

  “Sorry, couldn’t resist.” I pick up a menu since everyone else seems to be browsing already. “Did you swim?”

  “Yep, the pool is insane. You have to go. I had about five mocktails—which is depressing, by the way—on a lounger near the pool. People-watching is so much fun. I saw a couple break up on their honeymoon.” Her voice gets higher towards the end. “I freakin’ love Vegas.”

  Not to be negative about my day since casinos are why I’m here, but her day does sound fun. Still, I’d rather be gambling.

  I find my shoulders relaxing. The guilt associated with Wren often eats away at me whenever we have to leave her out. That was supposed to stop a couple months ago on her eighteenth birthday. We’ve come to a country that puts us back to a time where she’s too young.

  “What’s on the plan for tomorrow, little explorer?”

  “I’m not totally sure yet, but while I’m here, I really want to visit the Shark Reef Aquarium, ride roller coasters, and go on a gondola ride in fake Italy. Oh, and I need to find out when a Jabbawockeez performance is on; it’s meant to be amazing.”

  “Why are you doing Vegas better than us?” Emma asks, lowering her menu.

  I snort. “She’s not.”

  “I’m not focused on losing all of my money and my liver. I definitely want to come back and do Vegas your way when I’m old enough, but I’m so glad I get to experience it this way, too. Everyone is so friendly.”

  “You’ve met people?” Felicity asks.

  “At the pool, yeah. I’m not the only minor here.” She grins. “There are some very hot nineteen and twenty-year-olds.”

  “Who you will stay away from,” Luke orders.

  Wren smiles at him, but we all know she listens about as well as a toddler. She doesn’t do one-night stands. She’s Wren. My fingertips curl into the faux leather menu. This fucking girl isn’t here to score.

  She’s going to be a bigger problem this week than I thought… and in a completely different way.

  Our food is quick to come out. It’s also massive.

  Mase’s eyes widen at the huge burger and mountain of chips. “Oh, I love Vegas.”

  Wren smiles. “Vegas is so cool. Have you seen some of the lobbies in the hotels? They’re meant to all be incredible. I’m definitely going to check them out. I’m really glad you saw sense and invited me along.”

  “Invited
is a strong word, Wren.”

  “Oh, please. It wouldn’t be the same without me and you know it. You would be stuck with them all week if it wasn’t for me. You’d go crazy.”

  “The only person who makes me crazy is you.”

  “Eat up, Brody, you’re getting cranky.”

  Fucking girl.

  After dinner, we head up to shower and change. Wren is doing her own thing while the rest of us hit clubs. She’s not given much away, only that she’s hanging out at the hotel because there’s plenty to do and see. She’s allowed in certain places to eat and drink—family-friendly places. We’re not allowed to call them that or she gets angry.

  I follow Emma, Felicity, Mason, and Luke into the lobby. Apparently, Wren is around here somewhere. She was going to get a latte and read. Yeah, she brought her Kindle and four paperbacks to Vegas. Then I think she said something about a show at the hotel.

  Tomorrow, Emma and Felicity have plans with her, and then we’re all doing something the following day.

  “Look at those cocktails!” Felicity says. She looks over at me. “Let’s have one in here before we move on.”

  I shrug because I really don’t care where in Vegas we drink. “Sure.”

  I follow again, looking over my shoulder at the Starbucks Wren is supposed to be at. There aren’t too many people sitting at tables. They’re all out gambling and doing whatever the fuck else they want. Wren isn’t one of the ones drinking coffee like she’s supposed to be.

  “Did Wren leave before you?” I ask Emma.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  You’re being an idiot. “I just wondered. You think she’s okay?”

  “Oh, definitely. She would want to kill us all if she didn’t get some time to herself.”

  “She’s had all afternoon.”

  “And we have different plans with her over the week, too. Brody, my sister would absolutely say something if she was pissed to be alone.”

  Laughing, I sit down on a stool with the girls while Mason and Luke head to the bar. “Yeah, she wouldn’t hesitate.”

  “She knew the score before we left,” Felicity says. “She knew that we would be doing some things she couldn’t, and that didn’t deter her. I can see her backpacking the world alone. I could never do anything like that, but Wren could.”

  She’s always been happy to go off and do her own thing. I’m pretty sure she’s the only one of us who has been to the cinema by herself.

  “Beer. And really pink cocktails for the girls,” Luke says, placing two martini glasses in front of Emma and Felicity.

  Mason is holding three bottles of beer by the neck.

  “Thanks, man,” I say, taking one.

  We have a drink and decide to head to a club that Emma has found great reviews for down the strip.

  I stand, and as I’m turning to head out the door, Wren catches my eye. She’s in the fucking bar, dressed in a little red dress that has every drop of blood in my body racing south. Her head tilts back, sending waves of blonde hair down her back.

  Mason says something. I don’t hear him. I don’t think he’s talking to me anyway.

  The person Wren is sitting with—a guy—shakes his head like he’s not sure he believes whatever she’s said.

  Her eyes meet mine. Raising her hand, she presses her index finger to her lips and slouches down the high-back chair, hiding from her siblings.

  Fucking hell, that was quick work. How the fuck did she get served?

  Six

  Wren

  My first day in Vegas has been ace. I love exploring and doing whatever the hell I want. Not to mention Dale, the hottie by the pool, who has turned into the hottie at the bar.

  The others are out at some club, getting wasted and trying to find a shag for the night.

  I’m in a corner of a busy bar with Dale.

  He’s Southern with dirty-blonde hair and amber eyes. I think he said he’s at college, but that was the moment when he took off his sweatshirt and his T-shirt underneath rose up.

  Dale has washboard abs.

  Ding, ding, ding.

  He might be a college student, or he might be a drug dealer. I’ll never know.

  I sit back in the high-back chair and raise my daiquiri to my lips. “You’re going home in three days, and you think you’re going to get into my pants before then?”

  Dale smirks. “I’m hopeful.”

  “You’re delusional.”

  He grips his heart. “You’re killin’ me, Wren.”

  “Sorry, I’m saving my first one-night stand for when I’m really drunk.”

  “What?”

  “You know, like the stereotypical morning after where you wake up with a banging headache and then you realise that you’re naked and not alone.”

  “That’s what you want?”

  “I like to do things right. No half-arsing over here.”

  His light eyebrows tug together in a frown. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Third time that’s happened. I’ll say something that leaves him speechless. I like a guy who always knows how to respond. Where’s the fun in a one-sided conversation? If you can’t think of a response, twist your arse around and stop wasting my time. I’d say this to him, but then I would be all alone, and it’s quite nice to have some company.

  A shadow casts over my legs, and my eyes flick north.

  “Wren, we need to talk.”

  Brody is glaring at me.

  My heart skips a beat, and I sit straighter.

  Maybe company is overrated.

  With a smile that’s more like a grimace, which he will definitely see through, I say, “What are you doing back here? Where’s everyone else?”

  He folds his arms like a very sexy teacher who just busted you for smoking. I only tried that shit once. I almost choked to death and thought that the warning labels had come for me prematurely.

  His eyes narrow. “It’s three in the morning. Emma, Felicity, and Luke have gone to their rooms. Mase is getting lucky.”

  I stand up. Oh shit. “Emma and Felicity are in the room? Isn’t three in the morning like midday here?”

  “Usually, if we weren’t jet-lagged. Besides, I already fucked a girl in the bathroom.”

  Gross.

  “I told them I thought I saw you in the lobby when they realised you weren’t there.”

  Brody is covering for me? What universe did we just slip into? “You told them you’d come get me, so I wouldn’t be busted in a bar?”

  His strong jaw flexes, and through gritted teeth, he grumbles, “Come on.”

  And we’re back to irritated Brody. Well, it was nice while it lasted for those three seconds. He doesn’t usually last long being on friendly terms with me. I’m very much Luke’s annoying little sister.

  “Say good-bye to him,” Brody says, narrowing his eyes further and pointing at Dale.

  “Brody!”

  “Now, Wren. I’m fucking tired, and you’re pissing me off.”

  “You’re being a prick.”

  My face flames. Who the hell does he think he is?

  His midnight-blue eyes seem to turn as black as his soul. “Will you fucking move before I flag up the fact that you’re drinking in a bar a couple of years shy of legal?”

  I clench my hands into fists and look back at the guy who could have been my first drunken one-night stand. And still might be because we have plans. “See you tomorrow, Dale.”

  Dale nods, glaring up at Brody, who doesn’t even take a second to glance down at him.

  Without another word—because why would he need to speak to me?—Brody storms off like Megan Fox has called him and desperately needs to screw a moody twenty-one-year-old.

  Keep dreaming, mate.

  I jog to catch him with fire in my belly that spurs me on, begging for a fight. “What is wrong with you?” I demand. “You were completely out of line back there. Why do you think you have the right to talk to me like that?”

  His chest—which, by the way, is annoyin
gly incredible—expands. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “About four, I think. I’m totally fine.”

  Four cocktails will not get me drunk. I’m a seasoned pro.

  His posture is tense, and he looks like he might snap. “Who was that guy?”

  “Dale. I met him earlier.”

  “Great. You met a guy in a bar. How did you get served?”

  “Dale got served, and I met him by the pool, not in the bar.”

  Okay, I met him at the pool bar, but that’s irrelevant.

  “Why is he hanging out here if he’s old enough to go out properly?” Or if he has a fake ID.

  “He wanted sex.”

  Brody stops dead. We’re halfway to the lifts. “Did you have sex with a stranger?”

  “Yeah, in the hotel bathroom. Classy as you, right? You know, urinals here are the perfect height to be fucked against. That was definitely thought up by a man.” I slap his arm. “No, I didn’t, you arsehole!”

  “You want to be fucked in a bathroom? Is that the dream?”

  “If Kit Harington is available, it can be anywhere.”

  “Kit Harington.”

  “His arse … oh man.” I blow out a breath. “Wow.”

  Brody’s hostility falters. “He was good in Game of Thrones. Now, please get upstairs before your sister freaks.”

  Ah, Emma. I love the girl, although she is rather … I don’t know how to say it without being mean. Let’s just say that she needs a really big cock and one more drink after she cuts herself off.

  I press the button to summon our ride up seven floors. “How come you’re going back to your room alone? I would have thought another woman would be hanging around your waist by now.”

  “Luke is a bastard.”

  We step inside the lift as the doors slide open.

  “He cockblocked you?”

  His almost-second shag of the day. He’s disgusting.

  The car rises.

  “I put in the groundwork, and then he told her we’re in Vegas for my stag party.” Brody shakes his head. “The next girl he comes on to, I’m telling her he’s gay.”

  “You think she wouldn’t still go there? We have arses, too.”

  His head rears back. “Jesus.”