Page 66 of Vegas Baby

She dragged a red blanket over her lap and tucked her legs on the couch. Using her thumb, she massaged the tight muscles of her thigh. How to phrase it without sounding like some degenerate? “Twice. My hormones have been all over the place and it became very, um, challenging. I’ve been living in this bubble and it’s so surreal, I…I think, no, not think. I know I’m in love with him.” There, she’d said it out loud, the words rolling off her tongue.

“And that’s a bad thing because?” He slid across the floor on stocking feet, grinning as his momentum knocked him into the back of the couch. Chuckling, he handed her the water and utensils.

She shook her head at his juvenile enthusiasm. Trent was a kid at heart, it was what she loved about him. “Because this is a business arrangement between Howler and me. He’s been clear with me from the beginning how he feels about love and marriage. If somebody doesn’t love you back, there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

“How do you know he doesn’t love you back? Have you asked him?” Trent set the food containers on the coffee table before he plopped down beside her.

She opened the salad container and began to mix the salad with her fork, putting all her frustration into the action “No because I’m not sure of it myself. I’ve never been in love—in love. Perhaps it’s a good thing he’ll be gone for a week and I can get my head screwed back on straight.” Even as the words left her lips, she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She was head over heels in love with Howler, warts and all. Inhaling, she rallied and pasted on a smile. “Enough about me. How was your date last night?”

Trent shifted in his seat, his thigh bumping hers. “Dramatic. He was a bit of a queen, and screechy, not my type.”

“But you slept with him anyway? I’m beginning to think you don’t want to find your type.” She raised a forkful of salad to her lips. Ever since his divorce, he’d slept around, never allowing himself to become involved with any man. Like her, he was afraid, and she sympathized.

“Of course, I did. Stupid question. Not everybody is as lucky as you are to land an Adonis. Besides, me being a recovering alcoholic is a big turn off for strapping farm boys.” He turned on the television and flipped through the channels, his profile sterner than before.

“Howler isn’t my type either. He’s opinionated, a tad bit crude at times, and he’s a self-proclaimed slut. That’s why I insisted on the fidelity clause, I didn’t want to end up like Miller’s wives, left high and dry while he traveled on business, sleeping with whatever woman catches his eye.” Except the more deeply in love she fell, the more she’d come to realize Howler wasn’t anything like Miller. He was warm, kind and giving behind a rough exterior.

Trent’s warm chuckle filled the room, his brown eyes dancing. “Miller? Are you trying to say you married your daddy? Because that’s fucked up.”

“Yes, that’s fucked up,” Howler said.

Raina startled at the sound of his voice and craned her neck, a surge of excitement rising until she caught sight of his thunderous brow. “You’re back.”

“I forgot my passport.” His jaw was tight, eyes shards of ice. Without another word, he stormed off down the hallway.

“Oops, something set him off. You should go after him,” Trent murmured, all teasing gone.

Nodding, she hopped off the couch and followed Howler into his office. He’d overheard her conversation with Trent. How long had he been listening? Long enough to hear her confession of love? Studying his stern profile, she licked nervous lips. “You’re upset.”

“Yep.” He pulled out his passport from the top drawer and tucked it into his blazer pocket, his movements precise.

She crossed her arms, confused by his curtness. Not ten minutes ago, he couldn’t keep his hands off her and now he was giving her the cold shoulder. Why? “Care to elaborate?”

“I could but what’s the point. We have a contract and I’ll keep to the terms of the contract.” He moved past her into the hallway, staring straight ahead, a tick in his jaw.

“I never said you hadn’t.” But Raina had by falling in love with him, although at this moment, love wasn’t the emotion taking precedence. She walked with him to the outer door but instead of the passionate goodbyes they’d said earlier, tension hung between them. “Why are you upset?”

Raising his chin, his lips pressed in a tight line before he spoke. “Because after everything that’s passed between us, you still think I’m on par with Miller.”

She shook her head, her stomach in a knot. “No, I don’t.”

“Then you were lying to Trent?” He settled his hands on his hips, his stern expression daring her to deny his accusation.

“No, I wasn’t exactly lying. I—" Shit, there was no good answer to this argument because part of her was still afraid he might be like her father and she’d ignored the signs. Like Brandi had ignored the signs.

“Not exactly lying?” He tapped his fingers on his hips, glaring at her, a flush staining his cheekbones. He was beyond pissed, there was no denying the fact.

“Good thing we have an arranged marriage. I can’t be what you want, Raina but I do have every intention of sticking to the terms of the contract.” His phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. In a cold voice that cut through her bones, he said, “I have to take this call.”

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the house.

Raina watched him run through the rain towards the car, tears pushing at the back of her eyes. They had a contract; one she’d drawn up herself. It had sounded like the most practical thing at the time yet now she wished she’d never made the deal. Except there were two tiny problems and they rested inside her womb. She’d done it for her unborn children.

Willing the tears from falling, she refused to cry over something she’d never had.

Howler’s heart.

The driver opened the car door and Howler turned to look back at the house. She met his steely gaze when a cramp tore through her uterus, stealing her breath. Her knees buckled and she cried out, gripping the doorjamb as sticky liquid gushed between her legs, wetting her yoga pants.

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