CHAPTER TWO

Elaina—

"Look, my room's got two beds. If you don't mind us both staying there tonight…" Dylan trails off, letting the offer hang between us as he picks his credit card off the tray the waitress returned to our table.

I study the man. He's very attractive in a rugged sort of way. "How old are you, Dylan?"

The corner of his mouth lifts. "Thirty-five. Why?"

"No reason." I take in the city lights, avoiding his eyes, and ask the all-important question. "Are you married?"

"No, ma'am."

I meet his gorgeous brown eyes. "Girlfriend?"

"Nope."

"So, if I join you in Durango, there won't be some jealous woman waiting to scratch my eyes out?"

He chuckles. "I'd never let that happen. And no, there's no woman."

I tilt my head. "I find that hard to believe."

"Sometimes things don't work out."

His words hit home. "I suppose that's true."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"It's okay."

He stands and holds his hand out to me. "You ready?"

Am I ready? Not at all, but my life seems to have spun out of control. And right now, I just need to get through the night. I need a shoulder to lean on and Dylan is offering one, and I'm grateful. I slip my hand in his and follow him to the elevator.

We ride it down to his floor and he leads me down the hall to his room. All I can think of is how this wasn't how I pictured this day ending. Right now, I thought I'd be carried over the threshold into our honeymoon suite. But here I am walking into the room of a man I only met a few hours ago. Yet, I'm relaxed with him. Perhaps—if I'm being honest—I never was with Elliott. How odd that is. Perhaps because he's my husband's brother—God, it's weird to say that word. Husband. At this moment, the last thing Elliott feels like is my husband.

Stepping through the door, I take in the room. It indeed has two beds. I cross to the window. "You've got a nice view."

"Yeah. I lucked out. I think the girl at the front desk liked me. I'm sure my brother had nothing to do with it."

"Do you think I should speak to him?"

"Absolutely not. He'll talk you into going with him, and that's the last thing you should do."

"I suppose you're right. We disappeared from the reception; perhaps he'll put two and two together and come up here, pounding on the door."

Dylan shrugs out of his suit jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair. "He won't. Not after what I did to him. His ego won't let him."

"You sound so sure."

"I guess I am."

"Why?"

"He's my brother. I know him." His gaze locks with mine as he loosens his tie and pulls it off.

"But you haven't seen each other in years."

"That's true, but he's the same guy he always was. Me confronting him tonight? That threw him. He won't be back for more. He's probably drinking heavily. Then he'll make excuses, lie and say you don't feel well and went up to the suite. He'll say he's going up to the room to take care of you. Then he'll—"

"He'll what?"

"Never mind."

"Tell me."

"He'll probably put a move on one of your bridesmaids."

That hits where it hurts, and I turn away and stare out the window. I feel his presence come up behind me, and his hands land on my arms.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"You really hate him, don't you?"

"To tell the truth, since I've been away, I've barely given him a thought. At least until my mother called to tell me I needed to come home for his wedding." He squeezes my arms, then walks away.

I turn. "Why did you come if you can't stand him?"

"It meant something to my mother." He's busy digging the items out of his pocket and setting them on the dresser. His phone, wallet, a set of keys.

"I see. So, you're a good son who doesn't want to disappoint his mother."

"I've disappointed her plenty." He shrugs, then turns and sweeps his gaze over me. "You got something to sleep in or do you need to borrow a t-shirt?"

I drop my tote bag. There is no other change of clothes in it, just some makeup and hair products. "My suitcase is in the suite."

"Do you have the key card?"

"Yes, but what if Elliott's there?"

"You want me to get it?"

"No."

He lifts his chin. "I'll go with you, then."

I bite my lip. The last thing I want to do is run into anyone from the wedding.

Dylan holds the door open. "We'll be quick."

"Right." We head to the elevator, and I punch the button for the floor. I lead him to the suite and let us in, my heart in my throat. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved to find the suite empty.

Dylan whistles, shoving his hands in his pocket and walking to the view of the corner suite with its floor-to-ceiling windows. "This place is amazing."

It is. The views are expansive. There's even a fireplace in the corner. It's every girl's dream.

It was mine, anyway.

His gaze hits the big king bed. There's a heart in red rose petals. He clears his throat and glances to my pink bag standing off to the side. "This the only one?"

I nod, and he grabs it and turns toward the door. But I hesitate, gazing around the room again.

He pauses. "You having second thoughts?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm good. Let's go."

He grabs the bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket. "Dickhead doesn't deserve this. Come on."

As we head back down the hall, the elevator dings, and I grab Dylan's arm, hiding behind him and peering over his shoulder, but it's just an elderly couple—no one I know.

On the ride to Dylan's floor, he studies me, and I feel the energy radiating between us in the closed in space. He doesn't speak, just lets the silence be. And that's okay. I don't want to talk, and I like that he doesn't feel the need to fill the quiet space. It's easy between us. It's like he gets me. Or maybe I'm just relaxed because I don't feel the need to try so hard to please this man. He's Elliott's brother. I'm safe with him.

Right?

His eyes lock on mine. Something flashes between us, and his gaze drifts down my neck to my shoulders. Warmth flushes my skin. I shouldn't be reacting to him, but I am.

The elevator dings, and the doors open. We step out and move down the hall. When we get to the room, he keeps a distance between us.

"You can have the bathroom first, if you want to change," he offers, moving to his own suitcase and flipping it on one of the beds.

"Thanks," I mumble and wheel my suitcase in with me. I stare at my reflection, wondering if this is a mistake. But everything Dylan told me tonight about his brother is backed up in the way Elliott treated me tonight. Going blindly back to him right now would be a mistake—one I can't afford to make.

My entire life I've picked the wrong men. In high school, the boys I dated never wanted to get serious; they were never totally infatuated with me. I always worried if they were cheating on me, and every single time that turned out to be the case. College was no better. And internet dating was a joke.

After a long line of Mr. Wrongs, I'd practically given up on finding Mr. Right. That's when Elliott took an interest in me. I thought I'd finally found the one. Now, I'm no longer sure.

If I'm being honest with myself, there were other red flags; even Maggie tried to warn me that I was rushing into this, that I should take more time and be sure. She never said as much, but I could tell she never really liked Elliott. But she tolerated him because she knew I was in love. Now her warning rings in my ears. Are you sure, Elaina?

I was sure. At least, I thought I was. But now I'm beginning to face the fact that my ticking biological clock may have made me overlook those warning signs. I want children and a family so badly, and I'm terrified that time is running out for me. If my relationship with Elliott is in the toilet, then I'll have to start all over again, trying to find someone.

It makes me want to cry.

If it was just me, I'd probably take the chance on Elliott, but what Dylan told me about how his brother will treat our children has me terrified in a way I can't possibly overlook. I can't be wrong in the decision I make. Not when so much is riding on it.

I pull out my phone and power it on. A dozen missed calls pop up. A few from my mother, a couple from Maggie and the rest from Elliott.

I text my mother that I'm fine and need time to think if this marriage was a mistake.

I text Maggie that I'm fine and will call her tomorrow.

I ignore Elliott's messages. Fuck him. Let him worry. He has to learn that his actions have repercussions, something that Dylan says his brother has never learned.

Turning my phone off, I toss it on the counter and change into a soft t-shirt I had packed and leave my leggings on. It's that or the sexy negligee I'd packed for my wedding night, and that's not happening.

I brush my teeth and wash my face, then let my hair down. When I can stall no longer, I exit the bathroom, flicking the light off.

Dylan is reclined on the bedspread, one arm behind his head, clicking through channels with the remote in his other hand. He's already changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that reveals two full sleeves of colorful ink I didn't know about. The tattoos take me back, and I just stare. "Wow. You have a lot of ink."

"Does that bother you?" He swings his bare feet to the floor, sitting on the edge.

"Just surprised is all."

"I told you I was the black sheep."

Parking my bag against the wall, I ignore the bad-boy vibes oozing off him. "The bathroom's all yours."

"Thanks." He stands, his broad shoulders even more evident in the t-shirt stretched across them.

I wet my lips and look away, moving to the dresser and grabbing one of the complimentary bottles of water. Dylan moves past me, coming so close he almost brushes my body.

Once he's in the bathroom, I exhale and move to the far bed, crawling under the covers and propping myself against the headboard.

The television is stopped on a documentary about the Great Pyramids of Giza which have always fascinated me. By the time Dylan comes out, I'm enthralled in the program, thankful for anything that takes my mind off everything.

He moves to his bed and tosses the remote at me. "You can change it if you want. Just no Hallmark movies, please."

I grin. "This is fine. I've always wanted to see the pyramids. How cool would it be to go inside one of those tunnels."

He looks at the screen where the host is descending through a space barely able for one person to fit through and dark except for the lights strung along to guide his descent. "Nope. No way. You wouldn't get me in there if you paid me a million bucks."

I giggle. "Claustrophobic?"

"Please tell me you're not one of those people who enjoy going caving. I once went to Mammoth Cave with a buddy. No way in hell would I ever go back. And that"—he points at the screen—"is the definition of a tomb."

"Okay, so no trip to Egypt for you. Got it."

"Now the Grand Canyon? Hell, yeah. I'd go there."

"I see. Huge hole in the ground. No problem. Hole underground. No way."

"Now you get me."

I grin. "I'm beginning to."

"You think there are spiders in there?" he asks staring at the show.

"Gross." I shiver, and he laughs.

"See? You don't want to go in there now, either, do you?"

"Well, not now that you talked about spiders. Thanks for that."

"Just lookin' out for you."

I roll my eyes.

He turns the lights out, and I snuggle on my pillow and watch the show. At some point my eyes grow heavy, helped along no doubt by the two martinis, plus the champagne I had at the reception. Eventually, exhaustion drags me under, and I drift off to sleep.