Chapter 11 Grace Newman

Additional Security Needed by the Pool

The Day of the Wedding

I land in Vegas with literally no plan. I don't really know what I'm thinking or why in my right mind I thought this was a good idea. Maybe I'm not in my right mind, but I'm here now, and there's no turning back.

Well, except…I mean, there is technically a way to turn back. I could always just buy a ticket and go back home.

But I don't think I can do that without taking my shot here.

And speaking of shots, the two I took on the plane did little to calm my nerves, so once we get off the plane, I stop at the first bar and order myself another one.

And then…I'm not quite sure what happens next, so I send a text.

Except drafting said text is a bit of a challenge.

Me: I'm in Vegas and I'd love to see you! [red heart emoji]

Backspace.

[smiley face emoji]

Backspace backspace backspace.

Me: Where did you say Grayson's bachelor party is taking place?

It sounds too weird to ask that out of the blue .

I pull up a browser and search for some cat memes, but I think I've sent him all the good ones.

I sigh. I need to figure this out quick so I can get the heck out of this airport.

Backspace backspace backspace.

Me: Hope you're having fun at your brother's big bachelor party week.

I wait a beat, wondering if he's going to respond and what the hell I was thinking when I decided to fly here without telling him—or anybody, for that matter.

His reply comes a minute later.

Spencer: It's been…something. Lol. It's good to hear from you.

Me: Where did you say the party is?

I'm not sure if he ever did say, but this is my chance to go find him and clue him in on what I know.

Spencer: At the Palms. I guess it has some meaning for Grayson and Ava. Right now, I'm at a pool party.

I don't reply as I pull up the Uber app to find a car that'll take me to the Palms.

This is bananas. It's so not me to fly across the country with some ridiculous plan that's never going to work…except maybe it will work.

The only way failure is guaranteed is if I never take the shot.

It feels like centuries pass by the time my car pulls up in front of the hotel. I was too nervous to reply to Spencer, and besides, what would I even say? I flew here to come see you sounds desperate, even if it's the truth. So…I guess I'll just show up and tell him that in person since that's not desperate at all.

He said he's at the pool, so I stop at guest services to check my suitcase then wander through the casino as I follow the signs out toward the pool. I didn't pack a swimsuit for this impromptu trip, so I'm stuck in the jeans and T-shirt I wore here.

When I walk through the double doors leading out to the pool, I find a rather large man standing in front of a gate holding a clipboard. Beside him is a sandwich board letting outsiders know what's inside of that gate is a private party, and music blares from the pool. There are a bunch of people in there, both male and female, and they all seem to be having a good time .

"Name?" the large man asks.

"Grace Newman, but I'm probably not on your list," I say. "I'm here to see Spencer Nash."

"Yeah, you and twenty other women," he grunts. He's not very nice. "Get in line."

Tears burn behind my eyes, but thankfully I'm wearing sunglasses so he can't see. "Excuse me?"

"If you're not on the list, I can't let you in." He's firm as he taps the clipboard with his pen.

"But I need to talk to Spencer! I flew all this way just to see—"

He interrupts me. "No name, no entry."

I glance around him toward the pool area to see if I can spot Spencer to somehow get his attention, but instead, I see Lincoln Nash, Spencer's oldest brother.

"Lincoln Nash!" I yell from where I stand.

"What the hell are you doing?" the large, mean man with the clipboard asks.

"Getting in to see Spencer, like I said," I say calmly to him, and then I yell again. "Lincoln! Over here!"

"You need to get out," he says, pointing toward the doors back into the building.

"Lincoln!" I scream one more time.

The mean man grabs a walkie-talkie and presses a button. "Additional security needed by the pool."

Lincoln must've heard my last attempt because he glances up and spots me. There's no recognition there, but why would there be? I've never met him.

He walks over toward the gate. As soon as he gets close enough, I start to yell even though the large man tries to block my view of him.

"Lincoln! I'm Grace Newman, a friend of Spencer's. Is he here? I need to talk to him."

Just as Lincoln opens his mouth to reply, I hear a voice behind me. "Newman?"

I whip around at the sound of my last name.

Only one person calls me that .

My jaw drops as I spot Spencer Nash wearing just a pair of navy blue swim trunks, slides on his feet, sunglasses on his face, a backward hat, and what almost reminds me of one of those shirts with fake abs painted on them because there is no way in hell that body is real .

"Nash! Thank God," I say, forcing my eyes off his abs. I rush over and throw my arms around his neck. "I'm not on the list, and this man was about to kick me out, but—"

"What are you doing here?" he interrupts, sliding his hand around my waist for a quick hug.

I ignore the heat of his skin as I back away. "I need to talk to you." My eyes flick to his abs again.

Focus, Gracie.

Focus.

Abs.

Focus.

"Okay," he says. "Come on in."

The mean man opens the gate for Spencer.

"She's with me," he says to the mean guy, who glares deeply at me as he lets us through the gate. I force myself not to smirk at him, though I'm tempted to.

Lincoln is still standing there, and he introduces himself. "I'm Lincoln, but I'm pretty sure you already knew that."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm so sorry to crash your party, but I need a word with Spencer," I say, and I hear the desperation in my own voice.

"Must be serious if you flew all the way here to talk to him," Lincoln says.

"It is," I confirm.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, and I hope we'll see more of you." Lincoln smiles, and he heads back toward a row of lounge chairs.

Spencer leads me over toward his lounge chair. He grabs a white T-shirt and pulls it over his head.

"You don't have to do that on my account," I say. The dumb words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

He chuckles. "What did you have to tell me? "

I glance around. The music is loud here, and he's in a swimsuit, and somehow…this doesn't seem like the right place to have this conversation. "Can we, uh, go somewhere more private to talk?"

He nods and stands. "Come with me."

And then I follow him past the mean guy, through the casino, and toward a bank of elevators. He takes me up to his room, and when he opens the door, I spot three garment bags hanging in the open closet—a white one and two black ones.

"You brought your fancy clothes, I see," I say, trying to make light of things. I glance down at the bottom of the closet where I see at least five pairs of shoes. "And your entire closet of shoes."

He laughs. "Only one of those garment bags is mine. Grayson trusts me the most out of the three other Nash brothers, so I'm storing the bride's and groom's clothes until the wedding."

"Why here and not at their house?" I ask. It's a dumb question, but I can't just cut right to the reason why I'm here.

"The bride just picked them up today and came straight here rather than stopping home. She didn't want to leave them in the car, so she asked me."

I raise my brows. "That's nice of you." I'm tempted to peek inside the bag, but I refrain.

He grabs some clothes. "Give me a minute, okay?" he asks, and he disappears to the restroom.

I wander over toward the windows. I stop and look out at the view of the Strip from here. When he emerges, he's wearing a pair of shorts and a nicer shirt.

"So, I don't mean to be rude, but you've got me curious. What's going on?" he asks.

I shift my gaze back out the window. "I found out some things about Amelia and the vineyard that might explain why she was cheating on you."

He sucks in a breath—his only response to my words.

I turn around and face him. "I've been trying to dig into why she'd do that to you, and I found some video footage of her and Drew in my office after hours. They were looking for something, trying to figure out if I knew something they knew, and Drew said something about if she marries him, she gets the vineyard."

His brows furrow. "How does that affect me?"

I clear my throat. "Drew mentioned that he doesn't have the kind of money to give her that being married to you would've given her."

"Oh," he says. And then the truth hits him. " Ohh . So she was planning to marry me to get the vineyard and then…divorce me and take me for all I'm worth?"

"Something like that," I say softly. "I'm so, so sorry to be the one to tell you this. But I felt like you had to know, and I felt like it warranted an in-person discussion."

"Yeah," he mutters. "Wait a minute. Why would she get the vineyard if she married me?"

"I guess Nana decided she was willing it to whichever grandchild got married first—and stayed married for at least a year. And if they produce a great-grandchild, they get a bonus plot of land in Temecula."

"Jesus," he curses, running a hand through his hair.

"I have the recording if you'd like to see it." I hold up my phone, and he stares at it with a look of disgust on his face.

"No." He shakes his head. "No, I don't need to see it. But I do need to get the fuck out of here. Excuse me." With those words, he bolts out of the room, leaving me standing by the windows, wondering if I should take off after him or just stay put until he returns.