Sinning in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 2)

I rest my hand on the cover. “Oh, no, I’ve read it a bunch of times. You like it?”

“Love it. Not Rochester, he’s a dickface, but Jane is a kick. Sometimes awesome chicks like dickfaces; it’s a fact of life, can’t be helped.”

I grin. “I really like you. I want to be friends.”

“I’ve never received an in-person friend request before. I like your style. I accept. What can I get you to eat?” she asks, without pause.

“You think Jane is awesome?” Rafe asks, his tone tinged with disbelief.

“You don’t?” she questions.

Rafe shrugs. “She’s prickly. I don’t like prickly. And I like Rochester.”

“What?” she demands, her eyes bugging out. It only lasts for a moment, then she cocks her head from side to side and relents. “Okay, never mind, I can see that. You would like Rochester.”

Rafe cocks a golden eyebrow at her. “What is that supposed to mean? Is that some variation of ‘dickfaces stick together’?”

“I didn’t say it,” she tells him sweetly, leaning forward and swiping his menu. “What do you want to eat? I have other tables, you know.”

“None as important as mine,” he tells her, with exaggerated arrogance.

Virginia grins, her eyes shining with affection as she looks at him. “We’re busy, and you’re an ass. Tell me what you want or I’ll order for you—really shake up your routine.”

“I’m the one who signs your paychecks,” he states. “You’ll stay here as long as I want you to.”

“Keep thinking that,” she tells him, looking over at me. “What do you want, Laurel?”

“Chicken alfredo. No onions on my salad.”

“Gotcha.” Lifting an eyebrow, she looks at Rafe. “Last chance.”

Instead of answering her, he makes a show of crossing his hands behind his head and leaning back, relaxing. “Let me think about it.”

“Fine. You get what you get,” she says, turning away, menus tucked beneath her arm.

“Hey, get back here,” he calls after her, sitting forward.

“Nope,” she calls back before rounding the corner and heading to check on another table.

“That little shit,” he murmurs, as if surprised she followed through.

I shrug, opening my book and fanning the pages. “She gave you adequate warning. Should’ve just told her what you wanted.”

“I wanted to fuck with her. She’s not normally impatient with me. I wonder if I did something to piss her off.”

“Probably. You’re good at pissing women off,” I inform him.

Rafe sits back, glancing over at me as I fondle my book. “I’m better at getting them off, but all the ones in my life lately are giant pains in the ass.”

“Hey, I am not the pain in the ass. You are the pain in the ass in this non-relationship. You’re the one who would rather keep me trapped even though you barely like me than tell your goons you’d rather stay single. I am the one who logically presented a better plan.”

“Not this again,” he says. “I do not barely like you. I like you. I would like you a lot more if you didn’t want to fuck my enforcer.”

“And I would like you a lot more if you actually wanted to parent our kid with me, but here we are,” I shoot back.

Rafe sighs and lets his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. “For the love of God, can’t we just have a simple dinner? I came home to see you, and this is what I get.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” I tell him. “So sorry if having dinner with me cuts into your mandatory 40 hours a week socializing with skanks at night clubs.”