He nods. “I hope so.”
The more time I spend with him, the more I realize I’ve been wrong about him. He may be arrogant at times, but there’s a deeper side to him, one I actually like.
“You ready for the next hole?” he asks.
He looks over at me and I smile. “Let’s go.”
The day goes by quickly and I trail behind him with that one stroke. Even on the eighteenth hole when I have a chance to catch up, I totally bomb it with a bogey, leaving me two strokes behind in the end. In a way, I’m glad I lost. I’m curious to see what all Greyson has planned for our date. Once we’re off the course and Greyson turns in our clubs to the pro shop, he walks with me back into the resort. It’s still early so I know none of my family is back from their day trips.
“Looks like I won,” Greyson says, bumping me playfully with his shoulder.
I bump him back and it feels good to flirt. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He presses the elevator button and we both get in when the doors open. I hit the twelfth-floor button and the elevator takes us up. When we get to my floor, he follows me down to my room. “So what exactly are our date plans for tomorrow?”
His lips spread wide as we stop at my door. “You won’t have any trouble telling your family you won’t be around?”
I wave him off. “They’ll be fine.”
His brows lift. “Even if you’re gone all day?”
“Geez, what are we going to do?”
He chuckles and it makes me tremble. I love the sound of his laugh. He steps closer and I can feel the warmth of his body against mine. My traitorous heart wants him to kiss me. His lips move close to mine, and instead of kissing me, he smiles. “I’ll be here at your room at eight-thirty in the morning. Make sure you pack a change of clothes in case something happens. The jet is ready to go.”
The breath hitches in my lungs and I gasp, but he turns and walks away with that mischievous grin of his. “The jet? Where the hell are we going?”
He stops at the elevator and smirks at me. “Vegas, baby. It’s going to be a fun day.”
Mouth gaping, I watch him disappear inside the elevator. I lean against my door and blow out a breath. Vegas. I can only imagine what kind of trouble we’ll be getting in to.
5
Greyson
The next time I win a bet against the woman of my dreams someone needs to remind me that an eight thirty leave time is the most ridiculous thing ever. Of course, I slept like shit, in the sense that I couldn’t get Leah out of my mind. All night, I stared at the ceiling and imagined her next to me, on me, under me, and any other direction my dirty mind could conjure. What I couldn’t do is picture her snuggled next to me or sitting across from the table eating dinner. My thoughts were nothing but sex and it’s all her fault. If she hadn’t told me she wasn’t going to sleep with me, my mind wouldn’t try to focus on how to get her into my bed or what she would look like there.
Still, I’m on time. I knock once and the door flies open. The beauty that is Leah Nelson stands before me in a pair of khaki shorts and a Nike golf shirt. There’s a bag slung over her shoulder and a pink blanket draped over her other arm.
I point at the blanket. “What’s the blanket for?”
“I always travel with one.”
“For security?”
Her eyes narrow and I think she’s about to hit me so I start to flinch, but she doesn’t. “I get cold on planes. I didn’t want to wear pants or jeans to Vegas, so I figured this is the best alternative.”
I nod slowly. “Got it. Are you ready?”
“I am.” Leah steps out of her room and lets the door shut behind her. I motion toward the stairs and she looks at me like I have two heads.
“Less people to run into than in the elevator.”
“We took it yesterday,” she points out. I groan, let my head flop, and take a staggering step to follow her. Every now and again I’m going to have to let her have these small victories. She’ll think she’s getting the best of me, when really, I get to walk behind her and admire her beautiful ass. As we step into the elevator she says, “You look tired.”
Great, did I forget to brush my hair? I check my appearance in the mirrored paneling. When someone says you look ‘tired’ it’s a nice way of saying you look like shit.
“Um . . . Yeah, I guess I am. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”