but he acted like he didn’t believe me.
Cam: I think your mom told him you were with me.
He didn’t say. I just got that vibe from him.
Cam: You’ll have the apartment to yourself tonight. ;) ;)
I shake my head at her wink face emojis and her inability to send one large text instead of ten in a row. It drives me crazy. I had sent my mom a text earlier telling her I was crashing with Camreigh for a few days. She wanted to know what was up, but I told her I’d explain later. I guess Matt has saved me the trouble.
Cam: I’m going over to Sawyers, and I will probably stay the night.
Well that’s wonderful. I’m about to type out a reply when I hear Vegas roaring down the road on his motorcycle. I stand up and the front door closes behind me. The hound dog comes out to greet Vegas followed by his Gramps.
Vegas parks his motorcycle looking sinful and deadly in his black leather jacket and dark jeans with the knees ripped out. His big boots touch the ground and he rips his sunglasses and helmet off smiling. “I see the hateful bastard didn’t run you off.”
I shrug. “Not yet.”
“You better have behaved, old man.” He reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out a bag from the bakery. “I brought you some cookies.”
Willard waves him off, sits in his chair, and starts messing with his pipe.
“I’ll put those in the kitchen for you.” I take the bag from Vegas and go inside to give him a moment with his grandpa. I can hear the two of them through the screen door.
“Well, was you nice to Tina?”
“She’s still here, ain’t she?” His gruff voice croaks.
“Yeah, Gramps. Do you like her?”
“She’s a pretty little thing. Nothing like those other skanky things you had hanging around before.”
I smirk to myself. His Gramps thinks I’m pretty and better than the other girls Vegas has brought around. I don’t know why that tickles me, but it does. I’m lost in thought mindlessly putting the cookies into the rooster shaped jar when a hand on my hips scares the crap out of me. I didn’t even hear anyone come in. I squeak and Vegas chuckles. “Are you hungry?”
“Why?”
“Told you this morning I wanted to take you to dinner.”
“I don’t remember saying yes.”
“Thought you wanted to get off Vegas style.” He smirks and heat licks up my neck.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“I’m glad I did. I was thinking you didn’t like me.”
“I never said I didn’t like you. I said I wasn’t going to fuck you, but dinner sounds good.”
“I’ll pick you up in an hour. Need to clean up a bit.”
“You make this sound like it’s a date.”
He rolls his lips inward then pops them out. My gaze zeroes in on his mouth and I have the urge to kiss him. “That’s because it is. One hour. Be ready.” With that he leaves me standing alone at the counter. I stare off smiling like an idiot.
Shit. I gotta get ready. What the hell am I supposed to wear?
Chapter 8
—Vegas