Page 89 of Vegas Heat

“Do you want scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon?” he asks as he chews his beef stick.

I blow out a breath. “God, you’re frustrating.”

“Right back at you. Answer the question.”

“Yes,” I say, my tone full of petulance. I slide into the chair without bothering to offer to help. I don’t want to help. I want to sulk and feel sorry for myself first for the hangover and second for the broken heart.

“So you’re meeting him again today?” he asks casually as he starts grabbing what he needs to make breakfast.

“It’s none of your business.”

He presses his lips together and nods, and then he drops the loaf of bread and a pound of bacon onto the counter before turning around to lock eyes with me.

“Look, Gabby. Last night when I walked in with you passed out in my arms, your father told me what a good guy I was for taking care of you. He trusts me to treat you a certain way, and wrecking your tight little pussy with my nine-inch cock while I suck on your tits is not that way.”

Butterflies take flight in my stomach at his words. God, could he wreck me good.

But that’s not what I’m upset about.

Sure, I’ll miss the sex. But it’s so much more than that.

“We have no choice but to live beside one another for the next month, and I can’t lose focus now,” he continues. “Your father is trusting me not just to treat you right, but to mentor you. To honor the commitment I made to the Vegas Heat. I can’t fuckthis up. It’s my one shot after being out of the game for three fucking years.”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and bite hard to try to ward off the tears heating behind my eyes. I should be all cried out by now, but apparently I am not.

I nod a little. “It’s not about the sex, Cooper. We had something that’s once in a lifetime, and I know you felt it, too. I know you did. I may be young, but I know what love is, and I know I’ve never felt even an ounce of what we shared with anybody else. If you’re choosing to put an end to this even though it’s not what I want, then you have to let me all the way go. You can’t steal me away from my friends to protect me. If you’re out, you’re out, and you have to let me live my life. You have to let me dance on tables and fuck up and learn from my mistakes on my own, or else you’re just acting like another parent and I’ve already got enough of those.”

He clenches his jaw at my rant, and he looks like he’s about to go one way with his words, but then he pauses, rubs his hands up and down, and blows out a breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. If you like that jackass, it’s your right to go for it.”

He turns back to his work at the counter, pulling two slices of bread out of the bag and setting them in the toaster, cracking eggs, sprinkling salt and a little bit of garlic powder.

I watch him work, thinking about how to respond to his words. He’s plating our food when I finally offer a reply, my voice quiet and full of regret. “For the record, it’ll be a long, long time before I’m ready togo for itwith anybody.”

He sets a plate in front of me, and I quietly thank him. He sets the other plate in front of the seat beside me, and he slides into the chair. I dig into my eggs, and they’re delicious.

I glance up when my plate’s almost empty, and I see him watching me. He hasn’t even started his food yet, and my tummy does a little flip at the realization.

He leans his elbows on the table and closes his eyes, resting his head in his palms for a beat. “I love you, Gabby. So fucking much. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

I run my tongue over my back teeth and point my fork in his direction. “Then why are you doing it?”

The front door opens on cue, and he blows out a heavy breath. “You know why,” he mutters.

“There’s my girl!” my father says, striding into the room. He’s wearing a suit, which seems odd for ten forty-five in the morning, but who am I to judge? “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. Cooper made me some breakfast and it’s really helping cure the old hangover,” I say.

“Good man, that Cooper Noah. Good, good man,” he says. He strides over and claps Cooper on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

“Not a problem,” Cooper says flippantly. “You’re back early.”

“I was worried about Gabriella, so I cut my endeavors short,” my dad says.

“Was Joanie your endeavor?” I tease.

His eyes widen a little as if he’s been caught, and he turns accusatory eyes onto Cooper, who holds up his hands innocently.

“Wait a minute. Is there something I don’t know?” I ask.

---