Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(22)

Instead of running for the hills, I ride Joe’s waves and let him carry me away.





Chapter

Five





Wedding Three (and Four)



Las Vegas



A Few Months Later



Joe



I make my way through the crowded bar and stop next to the prospective groom. Graham is sitting surrounded by enough shots to get an army drunk.

“Alright, Joe?” he shouts, greeting me as if I’m a long lost relative. “Are you having a good time?”

“Oh yes,” I say completely untruthfully. “It’s such fun.”

I’m completely lying. My past root canal surgery was more fun. I’d call what I’ve been doing “babysitting,” but the group of men I’ve been chasing all over this hotel is much less well behaved than a band of babies.

From a nearby table, Lachlan meets my gaze and wryly lifts one eyebrow. He’s a master observer, and after a few months of knowing me, he’s able to detect all my nonverbal clues.

I let my gaze settle on him for a moment, as he’s much more engaging than Graham and his drunken friends. Lachlan makes his dark jeans, white shirt, and orange Adidas Sambas seem expensive and classy. In this Vegas bar full of revellers, my boyfriend is a bit like a tiger in a cat house.

Boyfriend. I take a slow breath. He’s as far from being my boyfriend as Tom Hardy is.

But the word had stupidly slipped out a few weeks ago when I was introducing him to Rafferty. The look of horror on Lachlan’s face had made me stumble over my words and the evening had been rather strained after that.

Rafferty had made his disapproval very clear the next day, saying it was fine to casually hook up as long as one member of the party wasn’t developing feelings. His pointed glance had told me exactly who he thought that person was.

It’s been difficult. When I met Lachlan, I’d thought he’d be a one-off, or, at best, a fling. We’d shag maybe two or three times, and then we’d both move on. But we’ve hardly been away from each other since that first date or meeting or whatever we’re calling it. Whenever he’s not traveling—which has happened more and more in the months since our meetup in the Caribbean—he’s been with me, and more importantly, inside me.

I still have to pinch myself in order to believe this worldly, rich man wants me. But want me he does. He can’t keep his hands off me, and the feeling is entirely reciprocated. The sex is on fire to quote Kings of Leon.

“I knew it, Joe.” Graham drags my attention away from Lachlan. “When Mia suggested you attend the stag party, I thought you’d like it. She’s so kind.” He shakes his head, lost in an abundance of drunk emotion.

And she’s completely certain that you’ll cheat or gamble the honeymoon money away, I say silently.

Graham signals for another round of shots—something rather perfectly called Psycho Brains. “Are you having one?”

“Better not,” I say, nodding at the barman. “Someone has to stay sober.” And sane.

“In Vegas? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, baby.”

“Well, it’s interesting you should say that,” I say steadily. “Because some of you might actually be taking it home.”

He downs the shot and gives a very fetching belch. “Say what?”

“Like Evan, your best man. Tell me, Graham, does Evan have a house in Reading?”

“He does. Yes. How do you know?” He slings his arm over my shoulder. He’s hot and sweaty. “You wedding planners know everything.”

“Well, I’d like to claim I’m omnipotent, but most of the casino knows about Evan’s house.”

“Why?”

“Because Blake just tried to use it as collateral in a game of roulette. Is roulette the spinny game?”

“It is,” Graham says faintly.

Lachlan chuckles from nearby.

“Well, that’s the one, then,” I say. “The casino staff refused, but Blake seems determined that your best man goes back to England homeless. Not to mention Spencer. He is the loud redhead, isn’t he?”

Graham nods.

“Well, he’s definitely taken the phrase ‘in Vegas’ seriously. Example—the prostitute he just took up to his room. They were quite intent on bringing England and America together. Not sure if he and his wife will still be together when he gets home, because from what I saw, he used their joint credit card to purchase the young lady for the hour.”

“Shit.”

“That about sums it up.”

“How do you know so much?”

“I’m sober and it’s my job.” I also bribe hotel staff, but that’s neither here nor there, and I like to keep my all-knowing reputation. “I just took the liberty of booking you a suite. You can drink in there and Raymond the bouncer will be at the door, preventing further mishaps. Your beloved might blanch at the cost, but at least she’ll have the groom’s side of the party at the wedding.” I take one of the shots the barman just put on the bar and shoot it down. “Shall we?”

Graham nods, looking bemused, and I give a loud whistle. The members of his stag party look up. “Free drinks upstairs,” I say. They whoop and gather close like I’m the Pied Piper.