Chapter Eighteen

Brayden

The guys abandon us as soon as the bus pulls into the casino hotel, grabbing their bags and booking it through the sliding doors. This year's convention is at the Everglades Casino in Galveston, which means these guys are getting no sleep at all over the next five days.

"Wow, this place is huge," Nina says, standing back while I get both our bags. I'd gone back and forth over whether or not she should come, and only decided to ask her after the hotel confirmed they could move me to a double queen room, thanks to a cancellation.

"You're lucky," the desk clerk had told me over the phone. "We've been booked solid for months."

On the bus, Nina sat with Levi, talking the whole time about who knows what while I tried my best to keep my eyes to myself. I'd hoped she would sit with me, but she chose the seat across the aisle, only glancing at me long enough to offer a quick smile and another thank you for letting her tag along. If she only knew how much I wanted her there, how I wished it were just the two of us on a different kind of trip, not a convention full of people and events.

Now, I can't help smiling at the awe on her face as she looks up at the place we're staying. I know Nina is richer than sin, but the way she's acting, it's like she's never stayed somewhere this fancy in her life—and Everglades isn't even the fanciest place out there. It makes me want to show her more, just to see her eyes light up this way.

"I've got that," she says when I retrieve her bag from the luggage handler. She takes it from me before I can argue. "You have enough stuff to deal with," she nods her head at my bags that are now in a pile. My clothes only fill one of the bags, while two others carry my laptop, binders, and other items I need for a variety of meetings I'll be attending.

If Jordy had been here, she would have handed me her bag too. Instead, Nina is reaching for one of mine, saving me from juggling all the bags at once or having to hunt down a garment cart.

We walk into the casino, and I'm immediately greeted by familiar faces and my name called through the lobby. It took a couple years for me to gain the same respect my dad got here, but now I'm considered one of the old timers—even though it's only been five years. I know my dad hates that he doesn't go anymore, but it was just too hard for him to keep this up. Not just because of his physical limitations, but because it was a reminder of all he'd lost with the accident. Still, every time one of the guys comes up to me and claps a hand on my shoulder, I can't help feeling that a part of it is for my dad too. So I receive each greeting for him, as well as for me.

"And this must be your lovely bride," Mr. Murphy, the chairman of the convention, says as he holds out his hand. I know he's met Jordy, but it's been a whole year, so I cut him some slack.

"No, this is Nina," I say, glancing at her with an embarrassed smile. Her cheeks are flushed, making her blue eyes seem like oceans.

"I work on the ranch," she says, placing her hand in his. "I guess I'm one of the guys." She lets loose a nervous laugh as he raises her hand to his lips.

"Nah, you're nothing like the guys," Mr. Murphy says, his gaze sweeping over her. I narrow my eyes, fighting the urge call him out. I manage to restrain myself. Murphy is one of those old school guys who doesn't understand that girls don't want to be treated like sexual objects. If Nina minds, she doesn't show it. Instead, she beams under his compliment.

"You're going to meet a lot of guys like that," I warn her once we're out of ear shot. "I hope you're ready for the attention."

"Well, any attention I get will probably be because girls like her aren't in the room," she says with a laugh, nodding in front of us. I follow her gaze toward The Cowpokes and laugh when I see Nate already with the fiddle player, holding her bags while she checks in with the front desk. I have a feeling she won't be using her room, though, if Nate gets his way.

"They have nothing on you," I say before I even have time to think about it. I realize how forward that is, and glance at her. There's a small smile on her face, but she says nothing about it.

We check in and take the elevator to the fourteenth floor. I realize there's a mistake when we reach our room. It's the one in the corner, the same one I get every single year, and I know damn well there's only one king bed on the other side of that door. If I'd paid attention at check in, I would have recognized the damn number.

"I'm sorry, I asked them for a different room," I say, unlocking the door. "There's only one bed. I'll call the front desk and see what happened."

"It's fine," Nina says, following me into the room. Her eyes sweep toward the windows offering an incredible, unobstructed view of the ocean. It's why I request this room every year. Even though I know we need to swap, I can't help feeling disappointed we won't wake up with this view every day. "Just request a rollaway and I'll sleep there," she says.

"Like hell you will." I dial the front desk. "If we have to stay here, I'll take the cot."

"Front desk, how can I help you?"

I tell the girl on the other line the situation and am met with a sympathetic click of her tongue.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winters, but we're fully booked. I don't see a request for a double room anywhere in your notes."

I swear under my breath, then catch Nina's eye. She gives me a pointed look and I lighten my expression. "Okay, that's fine. Can we just get a rollaway bed?"

"We don't have any more available, I'm afraid," the desk clerk says. I huff out a breath, and Nina shrugs her shoulders, then points to the couch.

"I don't suppose you're out of extra blankets too?" I ask through clenched teeth.

"We have plenty of those, Mr. Winters," the clerk says with an overly cheerful voice. "Would you like me to have some delivered."

"Yes please," I confirm, then hang up the phone.

I make my way to the couch and sit on it, testing the cushions. It's fine enough, I suppose, though I can see my feet will hang off the end.

"But just look at that view," Nina says, her wide smile making me forget everything. She's referring to the ocean, but as I watch her, I realize any room would have a great view if she's the one in it.

Once my blankets are delivered and we've unpacked our bags, Nina and I set out to explore. Today's schedule is pretty much one big social event, starting with a crowded conference room and buffet tables loaded with food. I'm happy to see Nina load her plate with some of the best barbecue she'll ever have. It's a major difference from her early days on the ranch, when she'd pretend she only ate like a bird. Weeks later, and she keeps up with all of us and is happier for it.

"So, this is why you like these conventions," she says once we find a table. I nod and start to answer, but we're joined by some other chair members who all remember who I am, but I'm terrible with names.

"This is Nina, one of my ranch hands," I say to the guys, a trick my dad taught me long ago. Sure enough, they lead with their names. Scott. Robert. Ryeson. Bailey. All names I'll forget in a few minutes, though I won't forget the interested way they're looking at Nina. She's hyper aware of it too, with the way she keeps tucking her hair behind her flushed ear, or shifting her eyes even as she smiles. The food goes untouched, and I know she's self-conscious.

"So which of you guys are going to win the calf roping contest tomorrow," I ask, and all eyes are off Nina as the pissing match begins. Immediately she starts eating, and I slip an arm over the back of her chair to comfort her. But as soon as my arm is there, it's all I can think about, even as these guys are one upping each other. Nina's soft hair, a silvery lilac this time, brushes against my skin, sending jolts of electricity up my arm. She leans against the chair, her shoulder pressing against my arm, and she looks at me. Her soft blue eyes catch mine, and I see the smile in them, the way she welcomes my touch. It takes everything in me to tear my eyes away from her face and stay in the conversation.

"Thank you," she says later, when the guys have finished their plates and excuse themselves. Her plate is empty, and she pushes it back with a satisfied sigh .

I don't even have to ask to know that she's talking about my distraction. I'm dying to tell her she doesn't have to be self-conscious, that it's just eating. But then I remember the way her mom treated her that night at Jordy's parents' house. The damage her mom has done so that she can't even eat a fucking bite in front of people—it makes me insane. But I know that lecturing her won't change these deep-seated wounds, so I say nothing, though I vow to be her safe space.

The rest of the evening, I keep Nina at my side. If Jordy had been here, she would have retired long ago, leaving me to the small talk and schmoozing. But Nina is going strong. After a couple drinks, she's even more gregarious, and it's hard to remember that she doesn't know anyone here. I'm soon forgotten as Nina swaps stories about ranch guests and the trouble with manure, making everyone around us laugh with her stories.

And me? I'm mesmerized. She's like a flame and I'm the moth, dancing around her and ready to get burned. Once the stories begin to wane, the bar becomes a landing strip for shot glasses. The bartender lines them up, and Nina leads the charge as we all throw back a smooth shot of Don Julio.

"Again!" Nina laughs, and I catch her as she stumbles. When she looks up at me, it's with a sloppy grin that makes me want to kiss it off her. Fuck, I want to taste that mouth so bad. I keep my hold on her, neither one of us breaking.

The rest of the party disperses, or we just forget about them altogether as she turns in my arms, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Brayden," she whispers, her voice lazy with tequila, but burning a hole within my chest. Holy fuck, the ache is so devastating, I can't let go of her. I can't look away. I can only stare in her eyes, at her mouth—her everything.

"I want to kiss you," I murmur, my heart pounding at the confession, even as the alcohol dulls my morals .

"Then kiss me," she says. It's all I need before my mouth claims her, my fingers twisted with hers as I hold them to her back. And holy fuck, her taste is so sweet. Like the most fragrant flower and the most decadent dessert, all whipped cream and honey and lavender in one. My tongue dances over hers, every part of me hungry for her.

I open my eyes, just to see if she's real, but I'm distracted by Jake just across the bar, looking directly at us. For a moment, I'm sobered into realizing what I'm doing. Looking around, it doesn't seem like anyone's noticed, and when I look back, Jake's gone.

"Let's get out of here," I say, taking her hand and pulling her from the room. She doesn't argue, only clutches my hand tightly as we head for the elevators.

Once inside, we stand next to each other untouching. But once those doors close, I'm on her, my hands in her hair as she meets my mouth with the same urgency. I pray to God no one needs to use the elevator, and will it to hurry the fuck up. The doors open, and we're half falling, half laughing, our mouths still connected as we make our way to the room. I've never felt more alive or more drunk in my life, and fuck it feels like I'm walking on air.

We enter the room and I face her again. This time, the silence is jarring. It's just our breathing as we take each other in. She's wobbling. Or is it my vision? I'm hit with the realization that we're way too drunk right now, and just how far we've crossed the line we've been toeing since the day we met.

I want her. I want her in every way imaginable. But it's not just my life that will be affected if we go through with this—it's hers, and it's most definitely Jordy's.

"We don't have to—"

"Shut up, Winters, and undress me," she slurs, her voice unsteady as a ship at sea. Her eyes dare me to move closer. Beg me. And when she lifts her arms above her head, I close the space between us. We stumble, but I recover, pulling both of us to standing. Then I clutch her shirt, pulling it over her head, taking a deep inhale when I see the lacy purple bra that matches her hair, and her soft ivory skin that needs my hands all over it. I want to devour her, but I also want to savor every moment.

So I take it slow, cupping her face and stroking her cheek as I taste her lips, her neck, her chest. I slide one strap of her bra over her shoulder, watching with fascination as a trail of goosebumps appear behind my lingering finger. My breath feels shallow when her tiny rosebud nipple emerges over the fabric, and I duck my head to capture it with my tongue and lips. She shudders against me, her hands gripping my shoulders, a tiny gasp escaping her mouth as my teeth graze the tender flesh.

Fuck. What am I doing? I pull back, and she loses her balance without me there to support her.

"Please," she begs, opening her eyes. Those fucking eyes, so blue I could swim in them. Bloodshot from her stupor. Hooded as she paws at me. I take another step back, just out of reach.

"I can't," I say, then shake my head. "I mean, we can't. You're drunk. I'm drunk. We're going to wake up tomorrow and realize what we've done."

She steps closer, her breast still exposed as she presses herself to me. My cock is so fucking hard I'm seeing double. Or maybe that's the tequila.

"Brayden," she murmurs, her hand making lazy circles on my chest, "I won't regret this, I promise."

I look at her, so captivated by her. I could take her right now. I could kiss every fucking inch of her, taste the honey of her essence. I could bury myself in her and remain there all night.

I capture her hands, and she lifts her sweet face to mine.

"I can't," I repeat. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and steps back. As she adjusts her bra, I feel the air in the room grow thick. I may have ruined everything, and it's not even my relationship with Jordy I'm concerned about. All I can think about is this beautiful girl in front of me, and how I'd give anything to be tangled up inside her. She's the perfect storm, and I'm just a vessel on her waves. I'm ready to drown in her.

"Brayden, I want this," she says softly, even as she puts her shirt back on. "I want you. I'll wait, but this is happening."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I do know," she insists. "And tomorrow morning, when we're sober, I will still want you."

I close my eyes, the room wavering as I rub my forehead. There are so many thoughts in my head right now. How carnal my need is for this woman in front of me. How I could give a shit about the consequences. How my whole entire life has been about taking care of everyone else, but being here with Nina, I'm finally free—and yet, my hands are tied.

Nina steps toward me. She takes my hands, presses them to her chest. To her heart.

"Come on," she says, pulling slightly. "Let's sleep this off." She turns to the bed, and I let my hand slip from hers.

"My bed is over there," I rasp, my voice hoarse from the tequila, or from the sheer effort to not cross any more lines.

"You and I both know you're not sleeping there," she says, flipping back the covers, then turning to me. "I'll stay on my side, and you can stay on yours. But that couch is about a foot too small for you, and this bed is big enough to sleep sideways. So get undressed and get your ass in bed."

I hesitate for a moment. I know I should stand my ground, especially when she slips off her shirt and pants in front of me, trading her clothes for an oversized t-shirt. Sexiest lingerie I've ever seen.

This is the worst idea, and yet, I strip off my clothes. I usually sleep naked, but for her I keep my boxer briefs on. I feel her eyes on me as I slip under the covers, then feel the weight of her body settle next to me.

"There's a line, Winters," she says huskily. I turn my body, our heads resting on our own pillows as we face each other. She traces a line between us with one painted pink fingernail, and I'm a goner for that evil glint in her eyes. "Cross it, and your ass is grass."