Accidentally Wild (The Wilder Brothers)

“In all of the best ways,” Jessica said.

Getting to my hotel room was a trip. All of us took the same first-class flight out and even though the trip was only six hours, I would’ve thought we would’ve been traveling the entire day. The snacks were anything but. Miniature shrimp cocktails and endless drinks on the flight. Hot towels to soothe myself with and cool-gel pillows to help me sleep. There was a steak lunch offered on the plane right over and I almost groaned out loud from how good it was. And the second we got to the hotel and I pushed through my room door?

My jaw hit the floor.

The rooms were beyond decadent. The massive bed was covered with silky sheets and the beautiful jet bathtub was carved from this incredible swirling marble. And the best part was that the tub overlooked the Vegas Strip. It was the weirdest set up for a room, and somehow it fit perfectly. I could sit in the tub with my bubble bath, turn on the flat screen television mounted to the wall, and sip champagne while gazing out onto the most magnificent view of Vegas the city had to offer. It was something I was going to do before I left.

Not only that, but there was a private chef and butler. Yes, a butler that went around to all of the rooms on the top floor of the best hotel in Vegas and asked us if we needed anything on a regular basis. It was the most insane thing I had ever witnessed. And as far as the kitchen downstairs went, the guys had apparently hired a full-time five-star chef to hang around and cook whenever we called down. I quickly came to realize that these men were absolutely loaded down with money.

“Another drink?” the busboy asked.

I looked down at my empty glass and my eyes widened.

“I guess so,” I said, giggling.

“Here you go. And if you want to change your drink order, you just let me know. Otherwise, I’ll be back in thirty minutes with another one.”

“Could you make the next one an appletini?”

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll make note of the change.”

“Thank you. And I mean that. Thank you for all you’re doing for us.”

He gave me a genuine smile before bowing his head, then he went back to his post. It was weird, having someone serving us the way they were at every turn. It was as if the guys had hired someone to tend to us for every level we might be on. I was almost scared to try the spa services. It felt weird being around all this decadence and extravagance. My entire life had been spent working hard for the money I did get. Especially after the poverty I grew up in. Throwing money like this around went against everything I had been raised with. Everything I knew.

“How are things going at the tavern?” I asked.

“We’re missing you, that’s for sure,” Jessica said.

“Well, no offense, but I do not miss working there at all.”

“So things are going well at the youth center?”

“They’re not going the best, but they’re going. I’m keeping the place afloat. That thing is my heart and soul, and I enjoy what I do. That’s more than I could say for the tavern.”

“Trust me, I know what you mean. But, Bianca and I do miss our trio shifts.”

“We drove our bosses mad, you know that?” I asked, grinning.

“And that was the best part!”

I used to work at the tavern with her and Bianca. It was my second part-time job while I was helping with the youth center when I first moved into the Charleston area. I needed the second job to pay my rent and keep my head above water. But when Mr. Wilson passed and left the youth center to me, I quit the tavern and focused all of my energy into keeping his dream—and mine, really—going strong in the middle of the city.

“I wonder if I’m doing my best with that place sometimes,” I said.

“No, Andrea. This weekend is all about focusing on things that aren’t work. That aren’t stressful.”

“Well, I can’t help it. I don’t do a lot of thinking on my ‘on hours’ because I don’t have many ‘off hours.’”

“Try to relax. This vacation is for relaxing and having a good time.”

“So, I can’t even talk to one of my best friends about what’s on my mind?” I asked.

“Does it have anything to do with work or your parents?” she asked.

“Fine,” I sighed.

“Good. Now, I want to talk to you about how Everett keeps staring.”