Wherever It Leads(22)

Giggling, I shoo him off again. “Do whatever it is you have to do and get back here.”

He tosses me a wink and is gone before I know it, leaving a trail of his cologne behind.

I watch the door, hoping he comes back, but he doesn’t.

Heading into the living room, I find our bags sitting next to the sofa. I have no idea how they got here or when, but I dig around until I find my cell phone. Flipping it on, I find three missed calls from Pres.

I call her back and stretch out on a cream-colored sofa beside a wall of tinted, curtain-less windows. Vegas is stretched out below me, the mountains in the distance. It’s a gorgeous view. Not as good as the one that just left, but good nonetheless.

“It’s about damn time!” Presley screeches into the phone, making me laugh. “I was about ready to call Nick and have him send people to go get you.”

“And to think—you’re the one that told me I’d be fine.”

She sighs dramatically into the phone and I laugh again. My head rests on a red pillow with navy blue swirls as I listen to her go on and on asking why I didn’t text her when we landed.

“I’m fine, Pres. He just left to go to a meeting, so I found my phone.”

“He left you? Already?”

“Well, he did come here to work.”

“True.” She blows a bubble and it pops loudly. “So, what’s the plan? You just hang out while he’s gone?”

“Yeah,” I shrug, watching the lights blink below. “I might go down to the pool or something. He said to do whatever I want while he worked. But I need to explore this suite first. You should see this place. It’s incredible.”

“The suites are nice in Vegas. And the hotel you’re in is really known for its elegance.”

I roll my eyes. “You would know. Sometimes I forget who you are.”

She laughs. “Call me when you can. I have a date tonight, actually, so I need to go get spiffied up.”

“Oooh! A date? With who?”

“Just some guy I met at a cocktail party last week. He’s pretty cute and has a band. I’m going to be careful though. Swoon regret with rockers happens a lot.”

“Your’e so dumb,” I laugh. “All right, I’ll call you when I can. Have fun!”

“Hey, Brynnie?”

“Yeah?”

She pauses before she continues. “I like hearing you like this. Excited. Happy.”

“What’s not to be happy about?” I ask, raising up on the sofa. “I’m rebounding.”

“That you are.”

Resetting the button. That’s all I’m doing. That’s all this is.





Stepping inside Funda, the upscale restaurant tucked inside the hotel, is like walking into a different planet. The hotel is loud and glittery, everything buzzing and pulsing with energy as casinos typically do. But inside the restaurant, nestled into a back corner, it’s the exact opposite.

I smooth my hands down my dress, a sheer, nude sheath dress with a turquoise embellished overlay. It has beautiful ribbons that wrap around my waist, making me look curvier than I really am. A dapper-looking man in a suit smiles as I walk into the restaurant and I nod politely, but don’t make eye contact. I’m nervous enough as it is—too nervous to risk opening my mouth. Besides, I’m here to see one man. The man that left the suite nearly five hours ago.

I didn’t hear from him all day. I headed to the pool after talking to Presley and read a little on a chair until my skin started feeling like it was going to melt off in the Nevada sun. There’s a little ice cream shop on the way to the room that I stopped in for lunch and then napped a little in the room. I was surprised that it had been two more hours and still there wasn’t a missed call or text. After showering and trying to read again, the text came to meet him at Funda.

People sit on oversized, backless sofas in the entryway as I make my way to the hostess desk. Once I identify myself as a guest of Fenton, I’m whisked through and pass other impeccably dressed diners through an archway to a more private dining room. There are five or six tables, but I don’t check them out. I’m focused on the man sitting at the table in the far corner.

Fenton’s running his finger around the brim of a tumbler, looking off into the distance. His forehead is marred, his mouth forming a thin line. The waiter clears his throat as we approach and Fenton jostles back to the present. Once again, his gaze roams slowly over my body. When it lands on my face, the stress melts from his.

He stands and whips around the table, pulling out my seat. “You look gorgeous, Brynne.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, sitting. “You look more stressed than I’d like to see you.”

He moves back around the table and takes his seat once again. He pours me a glass of wine. “I apologize for being gone so long today. Things took longer than I expected.”

“It’s fine. Like you said, you came here to work, after all.”

“True. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about being gone all afternoon.” A stormy look passes over his features and I wonder what happened today, but I don’t ask. It’s not my place. So I go for the more general inquiry.

“How was your meeting?” I ask.

“Good. Tense. Frustrating.”