Staying in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 1) - Page 11
“Well, on average hair does grow a half inch every month, so it’s probably about an inch longer. I wouldn’t have thought a noticeable difference, but…”
“I’m good at noticing things,” he remarks.
“I know. It’s pretty sexy.”
His eyes twinkle as he releases my hair and secures his arm back around my waist, pulling me more snugly against him in the process. “Is this a booty call, or is there another reason for this visit?”
“It’s slightly outside my poor-student budget to make booty calls that necessitate a plane ticket.”
His beautiful lips curve up with amusement. “Don’t worry; I’ll reimburse you.”
The doorbell rings.
“Damn, you get a lot of company,” I state, feeling the absence of his arms as soon as he drops them and moves toward the door.
“Not usually,” he remarks, dryly.
The door swings open and a devastatingly handsome man with dark, slicked-back hair storms across the threshold, his chiseled face drawn with displeasure like a dark angel on a mission of retribution. He halts, clearly surprised, when he sees me standing here.
“Who the fuck is this?”
I flush, then inexplicably hold out my hand like he’ll want to shake it. “Laurel Price.”
He frowns at my hand, then my face, then dismisses me and turns back to Rafe. “Why did I just see someone who looked an awful lot like Cassandra Carmichael driving away from your house?”
“Because someone scheduled an episode of This is Your Life today and didn’t bother to tell me.” Gesturing back at me, Rafe adds, “Sin, this is Laurel. Laurel, this rude asshole here is Sin.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I say, dryly.
Rafe cracks a smile. “Sin and I are heading out to grab some dinner. You eat yet?”
“No, I got off the plane and came straight here.”
He nods once in approval. “Good. You’ll come out with us.”
I notice he doesn’t ask, but that doesn’t surprise me. In our few days together, I picked up on the fact that the Vegas boss is a little… well, bossy. It’s super hot in the bedroom. I don’t hate it outside the bedroom, either, strangely enough. Especially when he’s offering me food.
Jabbing a finger in my direction, the one called Sin asks, “We’re bringing her? To dinner? Why?”
Wow, he is rude.
Cutting him a look that wordlessly directs his friend to lay off, Rafe says simply, “Because I said so.”
Rafe tells us he has to grab his phone out of the other room and leaves me alone in the foyer with the newcomer for an uncomfortable moment. Sin shoots me a disgruntled look, much like the blonde woman did. Maybe he’s in love with Rafe, too. I can’t say I’d blame him. Rafe seems to attract admirers—and since I fell into his bed the same day I met him, I’d be a pretty big hypocrite to hold it against anyone else.
Since Sin clearly isn’t going to initiate the conversation, I take it upon myself to do so. “So, are you a friend of Rafe’s, or a family member?”
Sin’s dark eyes land on me and cause my stomach to sink. They’re just brown eyes, but I swear I can see murderous intent when I look into them, and all I did was ask a friendly question. Damn, this is an intimidating man.
“Just making conversation,” I explain. “To be polite. Not a secret cop or anything.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he stares at me like he can’t begin to guess why I would say something like that.
I grimace. “Which, I realize, is a suspicious thing to say, but I’m definitely not. I’m 19. I’m still in college. I’m from Chicago. I met Rafe… in Chicago. Over Easter. At his cousin’s house.”
Still, he stares wordlessly.
I shift my weight. “Well, his cousin Mateo. His other cousin Vince is married to my sister. So… lots of cousins. That’s why I was wondering if you were another Morelli cousin, or…?”
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