Page 121 of Vegas Heat

It’s only ten-forty when I step off the elevator and head down the fancy hallway, and when I flash my key in front of the panel on the door, it opens before I even hear it unlock.

For a second, I jump back, a little startled that I have the wrong room.

But then my eyes meet his.

Nope. This is definitely the right one.

“I was hoping you’d get here early,” Cooper says, opening the door wider to allow me to step in. He’s wearing jeans and a black shirt, and his arms stretch the fabric at his biceps as if he’s gained muscle since the last time we were lucky enough to be this close.

It was only a little over two weeks ago when he came back to town to look at houses and we spent the weekend together.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

He closes the door behind me, and I’m suddenly nervous. He pulls my overnight bag from my shoulder and sets it in the entryway, and I walk into the room and look around.

It’s not a room.

It’s a freaking condo.

It’s bigger than Mia and Chelsea’s apartment, and from where I stand, I see at least three different sitting areas and a doorway that must lead into a bedroom. In front of me is Vegas at night.

Lights flash before my eyes, and I spot everything across the street from the Eiffel Tower to my right over to the High Roller Ferris Wheel to the left.

But I can’t focus on the view for long as Cooper moves in behind me. He doesn’t touch me, but I spot his reflection in the window beside me.

I turn to face him. “Did you have fun with your friends?”

He shrugs. “It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

“I was thinking about you. This.” He waves a hand in the air, and then he moves toward the couch that faces this gorgeous view and he sits. “I was restless and anxious.”

“What about now?” I ask. I move to perch beside him.

“I told you earlier, Gabby. I love you. Deeply. In a way that didn’t quite hit me until something happened yesterday. I keep trying to do the right thing. I keep trying to fight against this, but maybe I’ve been wrong all along and the right thing isn’t what I think it is.” He sighs, obviously still tormented.

“What happened yesterday?” I ask. There’s a certain desperation in my voice, something I don’t try to hide, but I’m hoping he can explain away what I saw.

He clears his throat. “My ex showed up uninvited. She must’ve seen the press release that I’m playing again, and suddenly she was interested in getting back together.”

“And?” I ask.

“And I told her she could take the next broom back to LA where she came from.”

I can’t help my giggle at that, but the sobering reality is that I was affected when I saw him with her. Knowing that it wasn’t what I thought it was seems to quell a bit of the fears that plowed into me yesterday.

“I saw you with her on my way to dinner with my dad last night,” I say. I’m not sure why I’m leading with that fact, but I want to get it off my chest before we move forward.

“How did it make you feel?” he asks.

Maybe he’s fishing, and it might mark the first time I realize that it’s not just women who need reassurance in relationships. Cooper walks around with all the confidence of a guy who knows he’ll get what he wants, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t clamor for me to express those things to him the same way I want him to express it to me.

“It looked like you were holding her hands, and it made me rage. It made me hurt. It made me lose all hope. And then I had to go to dinner with my dad.”

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I never want you to feel that way, even less so because of fucking Stacy.” He slings an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for a side hug. “What did your dad have to say?”

I take a step back to hit him with the truth. “Essentially what I got from our conversation is that he wouldn’t be okay with me dating one of his players, and he thinks Danny Brewer is too old for me.”

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