Page 63 of It Happened in Vegas

Sophie shifted, stretching against me like a lazy kitty. “We have our first interview today, don’t we?”

I offered only a reluctant grunt. “Unfortunately.”

She cracked one eye open. “Don’t sound so thrilled.”

“I’d rather spend the morning driving you wild until my jaw locks than explain to Melanie how blissful we are.”

A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. “We could do both. Multitasking is an excellent management skill to possess.”

Her voice dropped low, teasing, and she looked at me as though she knew I’d bend to her every whim.

I flipped her under me before she could blink, and kissed her until we were both breathless, stopping only because the crew would arrive by ten and Sophie still needed time to choose one of her stunning dresses that always set my pulse racing. As forme, I needed coffee and a prayer—my to-do list was a mile long, and I couldn’t afford to lose time.

Business had surged since our wedding weekend aired. The new logo, the Fall flavors Sophie painstakingly named—The Hoppy Camper and Pumpkin Pleasure—and the slow-burn online attention, all contributed to our success.

I had a brilliant woman in my bed every night and was living exactly the life I’d always wanted. So why did I still feel on edge, as if it could all slip away at any moment?

Melanie setup the cameras on the brewery’s sunlit patio. Jessa had scrubbed every surface until it gleamed, and Sophie—always three steps ahead—handled the PR prep like the pro she was. Today she wore a navy silk dress that hugged every curve; I matched her in a dark blue polo and khakis.

When we had a quiet moment, she straightened my collar, winked, and whispered,

“You’re gorgeous, my handsome husband.”

“You are exquisite,” I replied, my voice rough with want. “I’d like to find a place where I can unzip you out of that dress.”

She fluttered her lashes. “Meet me in your office after this, and I’ll give you a prize.”

“Is this a fun little game you’re playing today?”

“Maybe,” she finished with a coy smile as Melanie called for us.

The segment started light: favorite date nights, how we met, what we admired in each other—all safely PG. I’d perfected my camera smile; she gave me that adoring look that made everyword feel real. Under the table, our fingers laced, and her gentle squeeze felt like thunder in my chest. For a moment, I forgot it was part of the show—it felt undeniably authentic.

Acting, as a former passion of mine, never happened so easily as it did living as a husband to Sophie.

Then Melanie’s grin sharpened, revealing herself as the shark she was. “There’s chatter online—fans speculating this marriage is purely business. What would you say to those people?”

I tensed. Sophie blinked, then smoothed her expression so fast I nearly missed it.

“I’d say they are partially correct. We met through our work and became friends,” she started.

“We’re still working together toward some pretty lofty goals. But it’s like finding the perfect team. Once you have it, you never let them go. Our lives are a blend of work and romance. It suits us.”

“How sweet. Now, the other day, I came across one of Keaton’s biggest fan clubs online. Looking further into it, I discovered someone we know actually started it,” Melanie said, gaze flicking toward Sophie. “Want to tell Keaton, or shall I?”

Sophie’s breath caught; her grip on my hand tightened. I already knew about it, as she told me in Vegas, but dread pooled in my gut about how devious Melanie was to bring this up on camera.

Slowly, Sophie exhaled. “I admit that I had set up a fan page when Brewed for Love first aired. Just like the rest of America, I had a crush on you then, but I haven’t touched the club much in ages—it runs on autopilot now with group moderators.”

“You started a fan club for me?” I played along for the drama Melanie so desperately needed, even though Sophie had already admitted to this. I held her gaze, the rest of the world fading away.

I should’ve been mad when I first heard about it. Hell, I should’ve been worried that she was a serious stalker. But I knew her heart. All I could think about was that this smart, driven, complicated woman had liked me before I even knew she existed.

“You had a crush on me from the beginning?” I insinuated.

She flushed. “Of course I did. You were charming in a broody, bearded kind of way.”

I smirked. “So this wedding, the branding—was it all a long con to get into my pants?”

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