“Hell yeah! Vegas baby.”

“I’m so getting laid this weekend.”

“Yeah right, you wish.”

A group of guys, who can only be described as frat boys, cross the parking garage in front of Rhett’s truck laughing and swinging their duffle bags over their shoulders. He shakes his head and prays that those guys aren’t on the same flight as him, but really what are the odds of that when they’re going to the same place?

In his entire twenty-eight years of life, Rhett could honestly say he’d never stepped foot on a plane before. That is until today. Why would he want to leave Texas? He never had a reason or desire. In his opinion, describing it as heaven on earth still didn’t come close enough. But when two of his closest friends announced they were getting hitched and he had to be there for their big day? Well, he made sure to get his ass on a plane and hope for the best.

The thought of paying the long-term parking fee had Rhett cringing as he pulled his truck into a spot. But what else could he do? His parents passed away early in his childhood and he wasn’t about to inconvenience his grandparents with the four drive, there and back, to the Dallas airport. No instead he’s trusting his baby will be safe for the duration of the trip and maybe he’ll get lucky at blackjack and win enough to cover the fee. He almost considered driving all the way out to Las Vegas, but he’d been given twenty-four hours to get there for the wedding. Not long enough for a trip like that. He would need more than a couple of days at the least.

Throwing together a last-minute wedding in Vegas sounds like a recipe for a quick wedding and even quicker divorce to most people. But from the little time Rhett has known Erin Morris and Jax Hartley, they’re anything but conventional. He met them a few weeks ago and while it probably seems weird to be calling them close friends after only a short amount of time, but no length of time can define the strength of forming a bond. Erin quite literally smashed into him after he dropped his grandmother off at Bunko night. He didn’t think much of it until they ran into each other a few days later at the feed store. Rhett almost asked her out, until Chadd Taylor walked in and started chatting her up. Rather than stick around, he used that moment to make a quick escape.

But he couldn’t get the redhead off his mind and decided a trip to her grandparents’ ranch was the perfect plan. When he got there, he didn’t find Erin, but instead he ran into Jax. And that guy knows how to talk. He told Rhett all about their history and his plans to win her back which made any chance of starting something up with her disappear. Not that he minded. He found himself enjoying both of their company and couldn’t complain about being the third wheel. Until Jax ran off to Vegas and Erin quickly followed him there.

Jax is in a pop punk band, whatever the hell that is, and he had to rejoin his band on tour. They don’t play the kind of music Rhett would ever catch himself listening to, but he’s a fan of Jax. He’s good people…hell, they both are. Which is why he’s finding himself about ready to head into this zoo of an airport. With a deep breath, he hops out of his truck grabbing his duffle bag, and gently shuts the door.

A screeching of tires echoes throughout the parking garage and Rhett looks back at his truck longingly. The unease in the pit of his stomach tells him to just get right back in and head back home. But that’s not going to happen. He made a promise and the last thing he wants to do is break a promise. Without another thought about it, he turns back around and mentally prepares him for the madness waiting inside for him.

Erring on the side of caution isn’t always the best idea. Especially when he has three hours ahead of him in this crazy ass airport. But he’s never been on a plane before and didn’t really know what to expect, that and traffic was relatively light today and he was able to slice a half an hour off his drive time. The clanking of glasses attracts his attention as he passes by a small bar. A little liquid courage never hurt anybody and his nerves could use some calming down. Re-routing, he heads in the opposite direction of his gate and sidesteps over to his new destination.

A very loud and vocal man on his cell phone swings his briefcase by his side smacking Rhett on the arm causing him to drop his duffle bag. The man wasn’t very forceful but it was unexpected nonetheless. Of course, he keeps walking while yammering away on his phone. Picking up his luggage, he walks through the crowd and hopes to find solace in the small bar.

That hope is quickly smashed down as each seat in the place is taken up by someone on their cell phone. That’s one lifestyle choice that never made sense to Rhett. Who really wants to see a picture of the cocktail you’re currently drinking? Do people really scour social media looking for that kind of thing? Not that he would know since he doesn’t have a single account on any of those apps or websites. Or does it make others feel better and like their lives are more exciting because they’re doing something other than sitting at home in their sweats? Not that drinking a cocktail in an overly crowded airport bar at noon on a Thursday is all that exciting.

Scanning the small area, he decides to take matters into his own hands and head toward the bar. Worst case scenario, he would order a drink and stand against the wall and chug it down. But as luck would have it, as he makes his way over there an elderly woman slides out of her seat and drains the rest of her small glass. He offers a polite nod and helps her stand up.

“Thank you, young man,” she offers as she heads back to the direction where he came from. The crowd slowly parts for her until she disappears.

Holding the back of the chair, he starts sliding onto the stool at the same time as someone else, Unfortunately, the gods of luck are not in her favor today as stumbles off and lands on the floor completely sprawled out. Rhett immediately jumps down from the chair and reaches down to help her up.

“Shit. I’m sorry are you okay?”

She scoffs at his outstretched hand and pulls herself up without any help. “No thanks to you. Enjoy your seat asshole.”

What is with this day? He shakes his head and takes a step away from the chair. “I didn’t do that on purpose. I’m sorry but I didn’t see you coming. I’m more than happy to order my drink and go stand over there,” he points to an empty spot over on the wall. Looks like a lot of people had a similar idea. Everyone just needs a little liquor fix while they’re waiting for the inevitable. “You can have the seat.” He pulls the chair out and waits for her to take a seat.

“I’m good. I don’t want or need your pity.”

“Ma’am, I don’t pity you. My grandmother would whip me silly if she knew I wasn’t being the gentleman she raised. So, trust me, I didn’t see you and I would have never taken a seat from a woman.”

She drops her purse onto the bar and strengthens her stance on her very small frame. She can’t be more than five feet and a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her black hair is piled into a mess of a bun on top of her head and she brings both of her hands to rest on her hips. Her tiny tank exposes her perfectly golden bronzed skin and her tight pair of yoga pants accentuate every one of her curves. “Oh, so you’re going to make this a sex issue? Keep talking cowboy, I’m really liking watching you dig yourself into an even bigger grave here. I have every right as anyone else in here to sit on that stool. It has nothing to do with the fact that I’m a woman. You got that?”

“Yeah, I got that. I’m sorry if I offended you in any way. That was not my intention.”

“Sure, it wasn’t.”

“Really,” he pulls the chair out for her and motions to it, “take the seat. I’ll feel bad if you don’t.”

She looks down at the chair and then back at me. She slowly nods and starts to move toward it when another dude slides in between the both of us and takes a seat. Is he kidding me right now?

“Excuse me but the lady here was getting ready to take a seat.”

“I don’t give a shit who was about ready to take a seat. This is a busy airport and a busy bar. I want to relax for a few minutes with a drink. You and the lady here weren’t doing anything but arguing about who was going to sit down. So, sorry buddy but you both lost the seat.”

Placing his arm on the back of the barstool, Rhett leans down and stairs the man in his face. “That’s not the gentlemanly thing to do. Get right back up and give the seat to the lady. I really don’t want to show her an ungentlemanly side of me but removing you.”

“Is that right? Well, keep talking you, hick. Some of us live in the real world and I don’t really care about the fucking crap spewing from your mouth. Bartender, when you can find it in your busy schedule to actually do your job, I’d like a vodka martini, extra dirty,” he adds as he slowly looks my new friend up and down in a super slime ball way.

Fuck this shit.

Rhett moves to pull the seat out from under him when she smiles and shakes her head. At the same time, the bartender delivers the cock suckers drink, but she’s quicker than he is. With the biggest grin on her face, she swoops right in and grabs the glass right out from underneath him. He starts to sputter as she gracefully pulls out the toothpick with olives and downs the contents of the drink. With a small gasp, she slides her tongue across the top of her lip and pops an olive into her mouth. “Mmm, thank you so much. That really hit the spot.”

She pops the other olive in her mouth, winks at Rhett, and walks away. The dude’s face is now bright red and he looks like he’s about ready to explode. “You better pay for your bitch. I can’t believe she just stole my fucking drink.”

“Gladly,” he replies and drops a ten down on the bar top. The bartender is trying to hold in a laugh as he starts pouring out another martini. He must have been making it while she was drinking it down. Nonchalantly, Rhett kicks out the legs to the seat and watches as the jerk tumbles to the ground. He sputters and pushes up off the floor. He starts to raise his fist toward Rhett and he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Somebody needs to teach you some manners and how to show a lady respect. I have somewhere I need to be and I don’t really feel like getting kicked out of this airport because of your assholeness.” Turning to the lady sitting next to him, he says, “Excuse my language, ma’am.”

She laughs and takes a sip from her glass of red wine. “Oh honey, no need to apologize. I always do like a show when I’m drinking. Adds a little excitement to my otherwise boring life, please continue.”

Before Rhett can respond, the bartender beats him to it. “Why don’t you sit your ass down and drink your martini and then get out of my bar before I have to call security and have you removed.”

Spit flies from his mouth as he yells, “You can’t do that to me. Don’t you know who I am?”

The bartender laughs and shakes his head, “Nobody gives a shit about who you are. You’ve been nothing but a giant douche canoe and you’re harassing my customers. So, finish up and get out.”

“I don’t want your damn drink.” He slams his hand down on the bar and purposely knocks the drink over before stomping out of the small bar area like a two-year-old.

“Can I get you anything to drink sir?”

He shakes his head. “No thanks. But I hope your day gets better than that.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it at this point. You couldn’t imagine the number of dicks that come through here every day.”

He continues shaking his head and walks away. He finds himself wondering yet again why he’s even doing this. If the people at the Dallas airport are this bad, he can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like when he gets to Las Vegas. They don’t call it Sin City for no reason. He sighs as he heaves his duffle onto his shoulder. There’s no turning back now.

Now, where did that little spitfire go?