Kim blew Lucy an air kiss and disappeared into the bathroom.
Lucy padded to her bedroom and took a deep breath before opening the door as quietly as possible. She planned to lose theDynastyrobe and slide back into Nicky’s arms. Or maybe wake him up with a blow job. Decisions, decisions.
Instead, though, when she opened the door, he was standing up. His unzipped jeans hung loosely on his hips as he pulled his Beastie Boys T-shirt over his head.
‘Good morning,’ he said, grinning at her.
‘Good morning,’ she replied. ‘Going already?’
Nicky sat down on the chair, shoved his feet in his sneakers. ‘I’m heading to Dover. An hour there. An hour to throw some shit in the Jeep. An hour back. I could be here at, like, three.’
‘My shift at Grotto starts at five.’
‘Perfect. I’ll drive you. That okay?’
‘Yeah, okay,’ she replied calmly. A real feat considering her insides were bouncing up and down and doing the damn Macarena.
Nicky stood up, zipped his fly. He took a step forward and grabbed Lucy around the waist, lifted her off her feet.
He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled. ‘You make me happy, Lucy Rollins.’
‘You make me happy, too, Nicky Broome.’
Nicky brought his lips to hers and kissed her slowly, thoroughly. With purpose. Nicky Broome made her blood fizz like it had been carbonized. He felt important – real and true. Like his kiss was the beginning of something big.
He set her back down on the floor, and reached for his guitar case.
‘I’ll be back in a few hours,’ he said.
And then, he was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
NICKY
Present
Nicky caught a glimpse of Lucy as the doors to the main elevator closed on her and a trio of white-haired ladies with canes. One of them was handing Lucy a package of tissues.
Jesus. She’s crying.
His mind stuttered back to work, helped along by the frigid, ozone-dosed casino air crackling against the sweat he’d worked up on stage. He spun around and darted at a run toward the Penthouse Tower lobby, hoping that he could remember how to find it in the maze that was the Lusso Resort.
After a few turns, he got lucky. He stumbled on a hallway he recognized, then blasted through a set of wooden doors. Nicky yanked his keycard from his pocket and sent prayers of thanks to a god he didn’t believe in when the doors to the exclusive penthouse elevator opened on the first try.
When Nicky reached the fortieth floor, it was deserted. Not a soul in sight. He eyed the long passage, wondering if Lucy had already made it to her suite, or if the gambling grannies had managed to slow down the regular elevator on its forty-floor trip.
He looked back and forth from the main elevator doors, to the hall, and back again. Unsure of himself. Unsure of damn near everything, if he was being honest.
The light over the elevator lit up, a softdingstriking in time with his rapid heart rate. When the doors opened, he took his first breath in what felt like forever. Lucy was there, staring at her hands as they worked over a mangled ball of tissues.
She gasped when she looked up. ‘How did you—?’
‘Private elevator,’ he replied.
She stepped out into the hallway, right past him. ‘Nicky, I just can’t right now. Okay?’
‘Talk to me,’ he pleaded to her back.