Lust (Vegas Nights 2)

She nodded her head.

“Did you run?”

Another nod.

“Are you bleeding?”

Her head shook side to side.

“Then thank Adrian for catching you and making sure you didn’t hurt yourself, because there’s nothing wrong with you.” I looked at her pointedly and sat down.

Zac grinned.

“Thank you,” Lola muttered, clambering off him and taking her own seat.

Adrian fought a smile. “You’re welcome.”

“Hey, Lola, you wanna go play?” Zac asked.

Her cheeks flushed light pink. “Okay. Mommy, can I please have the cheeseburger and strawberry shake?”

“Of course.” I bit the inside of my cheek as she jumped off her chair.

“Oh, and I wanna sit next to Zac.”

He rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

“I guess I’ll move up then.” Adrian snorted, sliding over to take the seat Lola had just vacated. We were thankfully distracted from the ensuing silence by the waitress coming back for our drinks order which I was thankful to place.

If I was drinking, it meant I didn’t have to talk to him. And I had something else to focus on other than the fact that he looked stupidly handsome when he wasn’t in work clothes.

Sure. He was only wearing a plain, gray t-shirt and a pair of light jeans, but whatever. I was used to seeing him in shirts at the very least. There was something about the way the t-shirt—

No, no, there wasn’t. There was nothing about the way that t-shirt did anything, never mind hugged his upper arms or his broad shoulders or his—

God fucking damn it.

“Would you believe that twenty-four hours ago, Zac was disgusted at the idea of a “stupid girl” sleeping in his house?” Adrian asked as soon as our drinks were brought over.

I picked up my towering Oreo shake. “No. This time yesterday, Lola was horrified she was sleeping at a mean and stinky boy’s house. Or something like that.”

“Yet, here we are…”

“Trapped at the most irritating children’s restaurant in Las Vegas, while I’d rather be at home without pants on?” I offered.

“I’d rather be at home with you without pants on, too.”

“That’s not an option.”

“Shame. I think you’d rather me be there without pants on.”

“Can we stop talking about pants?”

“You brought them up. Even though you’re not actually wearing any,” he pointed out.

True. I was wearing a dress. Clearly, it was a horrible mistake.

I shook my head. “Unless I’m wearing nothing but a strappy top and my underwear, I’m wearing pants.”

Adrian frowned, not even hiding the fact he was staring at my legs. “But you aren’t wearing pants.”

“It’s not my fault if we have a different definition of pants.”

“There’s only one definition of pants.”

“Oh, what a sheltered life you lead.” I patted him on the shoulder and sipped my shake. Ice-cold and oh-so-good, I let out a tiny moan of appreciation.

Adrian darted his eyes to me.

The straw let out a little pop as I pulled it from my lips.

He muttered something under his breath—something I couldn’t hear—and turned his face away from me.

I frowned just in time for the waitress to come back.

“Can I take your food order?” she asked, looking between the two of us.

I rattled off my order and Lola’s, then waited as Adrian did his. We’d both ordered the chicken wings, and I was hoping that was coincidence…Because we both just liked chicken wings.

Dear god, why would it be anything else?

What was wrong with me?

It was goddamn chicken wings!

I inhaled sharply and took another drink of my shake—sans moan, this time.

Thank god for that.

I didn’t need any more of those awkward side-eyes from the hot cop, thank you very much.

“I’m not happy about how this was arranged.” I was just gonna throw it out there. “Our kids are never speaking on the phone again.”

“That might be tricky. Zac has already concocted a plan to arrange with her. I heard him explaining it to Michelangelo earlier.”

“Michelangelo?”

“The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.”

Right. “Of course. That’s the perfect person to tell.”

Adrian laughed at me rolling my eyes. “If you were wondering, Lola is supposed to steal your phone at four-thirty every day for a five-minute phone call in the bathroom.”

“So, keep my phone in my bra is what you’re saying.”

“That’s a good place to start. I’ll keep mine in my boxers.”

“That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing there to hold it in place. Bras are the best holders, ever. I once woke up with eight-fifty in change in my bra.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You woke up with it there?”

“It’s sweaty, the cups are padded… You’re drunk. It’s not as uncomfortable as you’d think.”

He covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. “No, I think it’s exactly as uncomfortable as I think. Doesn’t it poke you in the night?”

“Yes, but so do men.”

“Point well made.”

“I thought so.”

He laughed again, this time dropping his hand. “I thought you said you were unhappy you were here.”

I turned to face him. “I am. I just can’t cuss you out with all these kids around. It’s not exactly family-friendly what I want to say.”