I was at the biggest adult playground in the world with my best friend by my side, and I was just to the left side of miserable. I didn’t understand it. We came here to pull Harley through his breakup—which he seemed to have sailed through on a drunken wind that I might have encouraged—and I was the one who was confused.

When I woke up next to him, I was furious—okay, horny—but now, I wondered if being married to Harley would be so bad. He was my best friend, and there was a lot of good press about marriages between best friends. And he didn’t take life too seriously, but he also respected the value of it.

And the way he looked at the little things—if he couldn’t wear a baseball cap, he didn’t need to go; if he couldn’t afford it, he didn’t need it; life was what it was—refreshed me when I found myself stuck in the black and white world of contract law. Plus, the fact that he got to carry a gun, looked like a fashion model even when he was in jeans and the aforementioned baseball cap, not to mention his great ass, all made me hotter than I should have ever been around a best friend.

No. Lord, this had to stop. Andrew was my guy. My mostly sweet guy when we managed to snag a minute together. He was smarter than anyone I’d ever known. And we were getting married. And I’d bet my future on the fact that after a few years, I would be able to get him to come around to the idea of having kids.

A few years…

Didn’t matter. I was engaged to Andrew. Period.

You’re married to Harley. My brain was a traitor, and I firmly intended to ignore the little sarcastic jabs it took at me.

“What’s going on up there?” Harley tapped my temple with his finger as we strolled into the Forum Shops.

I waved him off. “Just trying to remember who I still need to buy gifts for.” I didn’t count this as a lie even though I was all too aware he was the only one I hadn’t bought for yet, but I couldn’t very well tell him what was going on in my head. Not while I was wearing a rock big enough to sink the Titanic that he put on my finger. This thought led me to wondering what I did with the ring Andrew gave me. I stopped walking, trying to remember where I might have put it. My mind flashed on water…a fountain. I used it to make a wish. Shit.

“Harley, I threw my ring in a fountain.” He held my hand up, and I jerked away. “Not that one. The one Andrew gave me. My real one.”

“Oh.” Something flashed across his face. Memory? Guilt? It didn’t matter. I couldn’t very well go home without that ring. It belonged to Andrew’s grandmother, a family heirloom. His mother had scowled when he slipped it on my finger.

“I have to find it.” Instead of a leisurely stroll down the strip, I weaved us through the crowd toward the Bellagio. When we were standing in front of the small lake of water, hopelessness shot through me. It wasn’t as if I could just hike up my pant legs and wade on in. But what choice did I have? Andrew’s grandmother’s ring was in there. I was sure of it.

I kicked off my shoes and my rolled my jeans up over my calves. Harley put a hand on my shoulder as I lifted my foot to take my first illegal step. “I have it. It’s at the hotel.”

Relief washed over me. “Oh, thank God.” And it’s that relief which had me on my tiptoes, angling my lips against his, then shucking his baseball cap to thread my fingers in his hair. And clinging to him as if my life depended on never letting him go. When my heartbeat was no longer my own, but a fast thrum of desire, I pulled away and took a full step back. “Wow. I’m sorry. I was just so…”

He picked up his hat and stuffed it in place. “I know. Let’s go.” The bite to each word told me what the short sentences didn’t. As did the way he didn’t wait for me but blended in with the crowd walking away. Who could blame him? One minute I was telling Harley how Andrew Buckingham was the man for me, and the next I was on Harley like a fake designer suit.

I caught up and pulled him to a stop. People jostled us, but I didn’t care about a couple bruised shoulders. I cared about him. “I’m sorry, Harls. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry you were thinking at all.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and adjusted the damned hat again before he smiled. “Our first fight as a married couple.”

He was so laid back about every single thing, I almost expected to look around him and find a recliner attached to his spine. But I grinned anyway. “Fight? If that’s your idea of a fight, I’m going to win an awful lot in this marriage.” His eyes softened into molten chocolate, and I realized my mistake. “Harley…”

Still his happy self, he slipped his arm around my waist and guided me forward. “Come on. Let’s go find a pool and jump in.”