Page 32 of Inflame

“Yes.”

“How fancy do I have to dress?”

“Pretty sure if you wear anything other than a T-shirt and shorts, you’ll be overdressed.”

I nod. I love chill places. “So this is a dive?”

“No tetanus shot required. It’s just casual,” he explains with a chuckle. “And off the strip.”

“Oh fun. I was hoping to see more of the area.”

We walk and chat about nonsense stuff, likethis or thatorwould you ever? It is easy and light, except for all the pangs of guilt that stab at my strength. Maybe spending time with Nic isn’t the best way to nurture my relationship with Ethan. The last thing I need is to peer on the other side of the fence to see if the grass is a different shade of green.

I chose Ethan. I need to work on that relationship if I want to have a future.

When we get back to the Bellagio, it is almost four thirty. I am exhausted. As soon as I’m in the privacy of my own bedroom, I strip off all my clothes. I down a big glass of water, use the bathroom, and crawl into bed. It feels great to lay my head on the pillow and drift off.

* * *

The muffled sounds coming from the suite cause me to stir. I glance at the clock and see that it is almost nine o’clock. Shit. I must have slept in and am holding everyone up from a breakfast out. I roll out of bed and slip on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and the homemade T-shirt that Angie made me for Christmas. She recently developed a hobby of making custom prints using a heat press. Her skills have gone up with practice and her work is better than what the big box stores sell. She also sews and has supplied me with some amazing custom workout clothes that have gotten me so many compliments at the gym—and impromptu orders in case she ever opens up one of those cute online boutiques.

I brush my hair and add some styling product to it to give my natural wave a bit more dimension. I quickly dust on some makeup and add my cupcake lip gloss to my lips. It is my way of enjoying dessert without all the garbage ingredients and added calories.

When I join the gang, all eyes go to my shirt and then the laughter erupts. It says “Puts Out For Pancakes” and has a graphic of a stack of pancakes with butter and syrup in the center of the shirt.

“Angie knows me best,” I say with a shrug. “I’m a total slut for a delicious pancake and a good margarita.” As soon as the words pop out of my no-filter mouth, Nic’s eyes grow dark, and the once serene blue color now looks to be navy. I could get lost in those deep ocean eyes. My cheeks flush, catching me off guard. Shy and conservative are two words that are usually never used to describe me. Yet, here I am blushing a shade that only looks good on tomatoes.

Angie laughs to almost tears. “Pretty sure you would get naked for a mediocre pancake and a bad margarita too.”

I give her a shrug and a grin. “Truth. I’ve never met a margie I didn’t like. Plus, it’s pretty hard to mess up pancakes.”

The guys laugh. I avoid making eye contact with Nic, mainly because I can feel him staring.

“Ready for breakfast?” Graham asks, kissing Angie on the forehead and tickling her sides. They look rested and my bestie is sporting the nicest glow. Being in love looks good on her. It is doing wonders for her already amazing skin.

“This is all Nic’s doing,” I say. “So, if it sucks, we can all blame him.”

“Get ready to strip, because we are going to my favorite place called Babystacks Cafe.”

“Oh, this sounds fun,” Angie says, bouncing on her feet.

“Our cars were dropped off this morning and are parked in the garage,” Nic explains.

“Plural?” I ask with confusion.

“Correct,” he responds but doesn’t choose to elaborate.

“Wear comfortable walking shoes, because I thought we could take a small hike after breakfast at Red Rock Canyon,” I inform.

We make our way to the parking garage, and Nic grabs the keys from the parking attendant. He signs a few papers and has us added to the contract. The cool thing about Vegas is that a lot of parking is done underground. It keeps the strip looking less cluttered and reserved for the glitz and glam.

“Can I drive?” I ask him softly.

“What happens if it’s a stick?”

I give him my side-eye. “Think I don’t know my way around a stick?”

His grin grows to a full-blown smile. “I never said that.”

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