Page 4 of Feast

“Stop flashing your tits,” he countered, sad to see the view go but quickly distracted by the new one. The only thing he’d really been able to tell when she was sitting was that the curves didn’t end at her breasts, and he hadn’t been wrong. She was built like an hourglass with extra time added, with round hips and thick thighs held snugly by the jeans she wore, and when she turned to make sure her suitcase wasn’t blocking the aisle, he finally got a look at her ass.

The classic inverted heart shape was displayed to perfection in the stretchy jeans, the material cupping the heavy bottom curves the way he wanted to—with aggression and reverence. An unabashed ass-man, Spence had to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight, and hopefully managed to look like someone who hadn’t been drooling over her ass when she turned to face him again.

“Maybe you should’ve taken Julia up on her offer,” she said drily.

“Who?”

“The flight attendant,” 3B elaborated. “She stopped by to check on you a number of times. I’m sure you could still get her number.”

Vaguely uneasy with the idea of being ogled in his sleep, he stood, bending to the side to keep from hitting his head on the overhead bins. “You seem awfully interested in my sex life.”

“Oh, I’m interested in everyone’s sex life,” she said cheerfully and shouldered her backpack as the plane door opened. The rows ahead of them quickly emptied, passengers moving to disembark as quickly as the narrow space would allow, and she tossed him a smile over her shoulder and stepped into the aisle. “See you around, sleeping beauty.”

“Hey,” he began, but she was already gone.

“Dammit,” he muttered, his good mood evaporating, and shouldered his way into the aisle to get his bag.

There was no sign of her when he finally got off the plane, and after a moment of frustration, he decided that was a good thing. He had enough to deal with on this trip, and 3B hadcomplicationwritten all over her.

Thinking about complications reminded him why he was in Vegas. Shifting his duffle to his other shoulder, he pulled out his phone, turned it on, and dialed.

His mother answered on the first ring. “Spence! Please tell me you’re not still stuck in Chicago.”

“I’m not still stuck in Chicago,” he said, weaving through travelers like a bull through the streets of Pamplona. “Just landed.”

“Oh, good.” Heather breathed a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it.”

“The wedding’s not until tomorrow night,” he reminded her. “Plenty of time.”

“Yes, but this way you’ll have a chance to relax and see the sights.”

Spence grimaced. “Mom. I’ve been to Vegas before. I’ve seen the sights. And to tell you the truth, it’s not that relaxing.”

She laughed. “Well, that’s true. By the way, I’ve already checked you into your room.”

“We talked about this.” He dodged a middle-aged couple dragging a three-foot stuffed giraffe behind them, arguing about whether or not they’d be able to stuff it in an overhead bin. “You paid for the flight, I pay for the hotel.”

“Forget it.” She said it cheerfully, reminding him annoyingly of 3B. “It’s my wedding, and if I want to pay for the hotel, you’re going to let me.”

“Mom.”

“And you’re having dinner with me, Stephen, and the girls after the ceremony tomorrow night.”

“Why do you say that like you expect me to argue?” he wondered, momentarily giving up on the hotel argument. He’d just slip some cash into her purse when she wasn’t looking.

“Because I know you, son of mine,” she chided. “And I know a family dinner isn’t exactly your comfort zone.”

Since he couldn’t dispute that, he kept silent.

“But since I know I won’t be able to convince you to come with us on a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon—”

Not a chance in hell, he thought.

“—or join us on Tuesday night for Cirque du Soleil—”

“I’m flying home Tuesday morning,” he reminded her, grateful he had work waiting for him.

“—then I think it’s reasonable to ask you to have dinner with me after my wedding, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you.”

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