Chapter Eleven

Holly

“Seriously,” I say, “I have to go back to my hotel anyway. I'll just put my dress from last night back on. It's fine. No big deal. Really.”

Brayden scoffs and waves me off. Using the remote control for the television, I watch as he scrolls through the menu until he finds what he's looking for.

“There we go,” he says and punches the button.

He pulls up the Bellagio's in-house department store website. Or one of them, anyway. I'm sitting at the vanity, brushing my hair as he flips through different selections on the screen. He's in the dress section of their website and I can't deny, there are some gorgeous dresses on there. Most of them look like formal eveningwear though.

“Don't worry about it, Brayden.”

He looks at me and grins. “It's my money and my room, which means I can do whatever I please,” he says.

“Well, don't you sound like a petulant child?” I say and laugh. “What are you, five?”

He shrugs. “Based on the way you were moaning and carrying on last night and this morning, I'd give myself at least an eight. Maybe a nine.”

My eyes open wide and my mouth falls open at his remark, a laugh bubbling up and passing my lips. I pick up a washcloth and throw it at him. He just looks back at me, obviously quite pleased with himself.

“You're such a pig,” I say. “And I'd say you’re a solid seven. At best.”

He stands up and turns to me, his hands on the belt of his robe. “A seven, huh?” he asks. “Well, maybe we need to go another round to see if I can improve that rating.”

“Don't worry,” I say. “I'll make sure I give you a Yelp rating of eight, just to make you feel better. Wouldn't want to diminish your prospects or bruise your ego.”

Brayden laughs and chucks the washcloth back at me. As what I just said registers, I find myself cringing at the thought of his “other prospects.” I don't know why, but the idea of him being with another woman sends a sharp stab of pain through my heart. I don't like it. Nor do I understand it.

It's such a strange situation – so bizarre in its normalcy. Everything between us seems so normal, even though it shouldn't. We haven't even known each other for a full twenty-four hours. Despite that fact, being with Brayden feels so familiar. I can't explain it, and it makes no sense to me, but his presence is almost comforting.

He sits down on the bed and goes back to his previous endeavor with a smile. Which is shopping for me. He seems to think I need a new outfit before I make the long, arduous trip back to the Rio.

“Seriously, Brayden, save your money,” I say. “I don't need a –”

“Money is not an issue,” he replies distractedly.

He's looking intently at a page on the website that displays some more casual dresses than before. Actually, really cute dresses. They have sort of a vintage flair, a style I happen to like quite a bit. He's got pretty good taste, I have to give him that.

“What size are you?” he asks.

I scoff. “Don't you know you're not supposed to ask a woman that question?” I say. “That and her age.”

“You're twenty-five,” he says. “Now, your dress size?”

I laugh out loud, though I must admit – I am pretty impressed with his intuitive guess. Not that I'm going to tell him that.

“I'm twenty-four, but thanks for aging me prematurely,” I say.

“You don't look a day over thirty, gorgeous,” he says.

I give him the finger but keep laughing. Honestly, I don't remember the last time I laughed this much with somebody other than Gabby. And it feels good. Really good. Brayden stands up and walks over to the pile of clothing on the floor. It takes me a moment for me to realize what he's doing, but when I do, I sprint over to him, trying to snatch my dress away from him.

By the time I get there though, he just hands me the dress with a smile. “I'm a very resourceful and determined man,” he says. “I always find ways to get what I want.”

“Clearly,” I say.

A warm shudder passes through me as he makes eye contact, making me feel like there's more to his statement than my dress size. And when I realize that I don’t actually mind the dual meaning behind it - I grimace inwardly.

Brayden walks over to the television and picks up the remote. He taps a few keys, scrolls to the shoes section and murmurs to himself for a few minutes before hitting a few more buttons. He nods to himself and drops the remote back on the bed. And all the while, I stand there like a department store mannequin, with a million thoughts flying through my head, yet unable to give voice to a single one of them.

“Done,” he says. “Your new outfit for the day will be here in less than twenty minutes.”

A small smile touches my lips. “You didn't have to do that.”

He shrugs. “I know,” he says. “But, I wanted to. And like I said –”

“You find ways to get what you want,” I finish his sentence for him. “Does anyone ever just flat-out tell you no?”

“All the time,” he says and grins. “But, usually only once.”

I'm just about to deliver a snappy reply when the French doors of his bedroom fly open. A man enters the room singing some stupid showtune, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. My heart thunders in my chest as I look down and double check that I'm decent, thankful that I’d thought to put on a robe earlier.

When his eyes come to rest on me, they widen slightly, and a sly grin crosses his mouth. Brayden shakes his head and sighs, although he can't quite suppress the grin on his face.

“Holly,” he says. “This is my friend Trey. And he's obviously just come back from a very good night.”

Trey rushes over to me and takes my hand, bending low and planting a kiss on the back of it. “Milady, 'tis an honor to meet the fair escort of my lord and liege.”

He stands up, a goofy grin on his face and I can't help but laugh. Brayden gives me a shrug.

“I take it things went well with the leggy blonde,” I say.

“Actually, no,” he says. “Turns out, she's kind of a snooty, high maintenance woman who's got a large piece of wood stuck up her ass.”

“Well, you seem to be in good spirits anyway,” Brayden says. “And you didn't come home last night, so I'm assuming –”

“Yes, you would assume correctly,” Trey beams. “Her friend, the shorter brunette with the big –”

Trey cuts a look at me and I see the color rising in his cheeks, clearly a little embarrassed about nearly making a sexist remark in my presence. An amused grin on my face, I cock my head and fold my arms over my chest.

“Big tits, right?” I ask.

“Actually, I was going to say eyes,” Trey says. “She has wonderfully large eyes. Such beautiful, large eyes.”

“Right,” I say, shaking my head.

“Anyway,” he goes on, “Jacqui is her name and she is amazing. I think I'm in love.”

“Wow,” Brayden says. “That didn't take long.”

Trey shrugs. “Hey, when it's right, it's right,” he says. “Sometimes, you just know these things.”

Brayden nods and runs a hand through his hair. “You sure this isn't just a hard rebound from Step –”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Trey says, wagging his finger. “She-who-must-not-be-named – well – must not be named.

“Okay, fair enough,” Brayden replies. “But, are you sure –”

“More than sure, my friend,” he says. “She and I sat up all night talking. Talking, can you believe it?”

I look over at Brayden, wondering if Trey is speaking in code or something, and that ‘talking’ means what I think it does. Brayden looks back at me, his quizzical expression saying that he's wondering the same thing. Trey lets out a long breath and shakes his head.

“No, that's not code for something, you perverts,” he says. “Jacqui and I spent the entire evening staying up, drinking coffee, talking. I mean, we have a real connection. It's – amazing.”

“Wow,” Brayden says again. “So, there was no –”

Trey shakes his head. “No, there was no physical contact,” he says. “I mean, I kissed her before I left to come back here, but other than that, it was a night of nothing but pure emotional connection. It's not like anything I've ever experienced before, and I have to tell you - my mind is blown. That girl checks off every box on my list. Not even she-who-must-not-be-named did that.”

I steal a glance over at Brayden, so many of Trey's words sounding so damn similar to my own inner monologue last night and this morning. It makes me wonder if it's having the same ring of familiarity to Brayden. He gets up and crosses the room, pulling his friend into a tight embrace.

“I'm happy for you, brother,” Brayden says.

“Thanks, man,” he says. “Coming to Vegas is the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“Well, can we take you both out to breakfast to celebrate?” I ask.

“Can I take a rain check on that?” Trey asks. “We were actually thinking about taking a road trip today.”

“Absolutely, brother.”

Trey smiles wide and looks at me again, as if the fact that I'm standing here in nothing more than a bathrobe has finally sunk in. He looks from me to Brayden and then back again.

“Wait,” he says. “Who are you?”

“Holly,” I say. “I'm – a friend – of Brayden's. I'd tell you we spent all night discussing books or politics or whatever, but I'm pretty sure you're sharp enough to figure out that's a lie.”

He shrugs. “Knowing how much of a prude Brayden is, I might have actually bought it.”

“Eat shit, Trey,” Brayden says and laughs. “Get out. Go clean yourself up and go on your road trip.”

Trey bows low, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Your wish is my command,” he says, standing up and turning to face me. “It was nice to meet you. And I really hope to see you again. I mean that. There's something different about my man there. Something good.”

“I hope so too,” I say, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. “Good luck with Jacqui.”

Trey gives me a wink and bounds out of the room, closing the doors behind him as he bursts into song again – something by Sinatra this time, it sounds like.

“Sorry about that,” Brayden says. “I think he might still be drunk.”

I shrug. “Actually, he seemed pretty sober to me,” I say. “I think it's kinda sweet. He seems really happy.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I just hope he's not seeing mirages and setting himself up for more heartbreak,” I say. “The guy's been through enough.”

I see the genuine concern for his friend in his eyes and it really touches me. I can't shake Trey's words though. There is so much I recognize in his story. Not that I'm saying I'm in love with Brayden or anything. The idea of building a connection, a strong, emotional bond with someone, resonates with me on a deep level.

And because it does, it scares the hell out of me.

We hear Trey singing loudly and then shout through the door that he's heading out. A moment later, the hotel room door slams shut, and the suite falls silent once more. Brayden and I stand there awkwardly, looking at one another. It's almost as if an expectation-fueled tension had suddenly filled the air in the room around us.

The door chime sounds and breaks the silence between us. Brayden clears his throat and I let out a nervous chuckle.

“That'll be your dress,” he says. “Let me go get it.”

“Thanks,” I say, my voice suddenly thick with an emotion that I don't understand.

He heads out of the room and I give myself a firm mental kick in the ass. I'm behaving like an idiot, and I need to stop. Last night was last night. It was good. More than good, it was amazing. The entire situation has left me rattled and shaken in ways I never could have imagined when Gabby first pulled me into his booth.

But, that's on me. I can't blame that on Brayden. He never asked for anything. He didn't lead me on or make me any promises. We shared a single night together – an amazing night – but one night, nonetheless. If I'm smart, I will walk out that door, head back to my hotel, and move on with my life, without looking back. Despite the connection we share, I'm going to avoid getting attached to Brayden in any way, shape, or form. That is only going to end badly for me.

Brayden comes back into the room carrying a box. He lays it down on the bed and takes a step back, a smile on his face.

“Your outfit,” he says.

A small rush of excitement shoots through me as a I open the package. I've always liked surprises and I didn't actually get to see what he had picked out for me. Truth be told, I wish he hadn't bought anything for me at all. I hate to think that he's wasting money on me.

I take the lid off the box, setting it aside for now. After pushing the tissue aside to reveal its contents, I gasp. Picking up the dress, I hold it against my body and turn, looking at myself in the mirror. It's a vintage sleeveless dress with a V-neckline bracketed by a petite white collar. It's a pale mint green color with small white polka dots and is absolutely gorgeous.

“Put it on for me,” he says. “I want to see you in it.”

Brayden gives me a small smile before walking out of the bedroom, shutting the doors behind him. I admire the dress in the mirror for a few seconds longer before dropping my robe and slipping it over my head. I don't have my makeup bag with me, so I can't do anything about that situation. And all I can really do with my messy hair is pull it into a loose braid. At the moment, I’m afraid I look rather plain and ordinary - which given how lovely this dress is, is a shame.

In the box, I also find a pair of black designer heels, and put them on. Once I'm fully dressed, I turn to look at myself in the mirror again and spin around a few times, the flared skirt twirling with me. Even though I'm without makeup or a proper hairstyle, I still find myself feeling beautiful.

Walking over to the bedroom doors, I open them up and step into the living room. Brayden is sitting at the bar with a pair of mimosas and a plate of scones in front of him. When he looks over at me, his eyes widen, and I swear I can hear his breath catch in his throat.

As I cross the room toward him, I watch as he drinks me in - and I can honestly say I've never had a man make me feel so wanted. He looks at me like I'm the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and it makes my insides ache. I feel the heat in my cheeks and know they're turning an unnatural shade of red.

“Jesus,” he says. “You are absolutely stunning.”

“Stop,” I say and look away from him, feeling too self-conscious to make eye contact. “I don't have any makeup on, my hair is a –”

Brayden moves so silently that I'm not even aware he's standing next to me until he takes me into his arms. He leans down, pulling my face up to his, and kisses me. It's a sweet, tender kiss that sets my insides on fire in an entirely different way.

I'm blown away by all the different facets of the personality of the man holding me. Last night, he was rough, commanding - the alpha-male. The man in charge. This morning, he was tender. Gentle. He took his time and seemed to enjoy every sensation just as much as the night before. And right now, he's acting like – I can't even explain it. It's almost – loving.

It all combines, making my head spin and leaving me confused. To be honest, I don't know what to think about any of it. There's a big part of me that likes it, as unexpected as this situation is. But there's another part of me, just as big, that's terrified of it.

Brayden steps back and flashes me a gentle smile. “Come,” he says. “Have a mimosa and a scone.”

“I should probably get back to the hotel,” I say. “Gabby will be worried.”

“I've already called for a car to come get you,” he says and looks at his phone. “It will be here in ten minutes, so you have time.”

“You've thought of everything, haven't you?” I say.

“I usually do.”

“Well then,” I say, “how can I say no?”

I sit down at the bar with him and pick up my glass of champagne. He follows suit and taps his glass against mine.

“What are we drinking to?” I ask.

“How about to amazing nights,” he says. “And even more amazing connections.”

He's looking directly into my eyes when he says it, leaving no doubt about the meaning behind his words. It turns my insides into jelly and I want nothing more in that moment than to kiss him. To have him right there on the bar. To feel him inside of me once again.

He's pushed so many buttons inside of me that if he asked me to explain, it feels like it would take the better part of a year. There's something about Brayden that has turned my world upside down and shaken me to my very core. It's something I now know I want but didn't even know I was craving. And now that I've had a taste of it, I only seem to want more.

And it's frustrating as hell because I know that this is something I cannot have. Not with the situation that I know is waiting for me back at home. I ruthlessly push the unpleasant thought away. Viciously. I want to focus on the here and now. I don't have to deal with reality for a few more days - so I won't. Until I have to face reality, I'll live happily in this fantasy life. I'll enjoy it. I'll enjoy every last damn minute of it. Because God knows, once I leave Las Vegas, I may never taste true happiness like this again.

With a maelstrom of thought and emotion swirling inside of me, I plaster on a smile and tap my glass to his.

“To amazing connections.”