“Yep!” I said, tugging him to the front desk.
“Checking in,” I said. “And we need to schedule a wedding at a local chapel.”
“Which one?” the man asked.
“Any one. A nice one. A twenty-four-hour one.”
“We can arrange that. I’ll just get you checked in here, and then the concierge can help you with a wedding chapel, shows, anything you’d like.”
“Great,” I said, turning to Travis with a triumphant grin. He was still staring at the ceiling.
“Travis!” I said, pulling on his arm.
He turned, snapping out of his hypnotic state. “Yeah?”
“Can you go over to the concierge and get the wedding scheduled?”
“Yeah? I mean yeah. I can do that. Which one?”
I laughed once. “Close. Open all night. Classy.”
“Got it,” he said. He pecked my cheek before pulling the carry-on to the concierge desk.
“We’re under Maddox,” I said, pulling out a piece of paper. “This is our confirmation number.”
“Ah, yes. I have a honeymoon suite available if you’d like to upgrade?”
I shook my head. “We’re good.” Travis was across the room, talking with a man behind the desk. They were looking at a brochure together, and he had a huge smile on his face while the man pointed out the different venues.
“Please let this work,” I said under my breath.
“What was that, ma’am?”
“Oh. Nothing,” I said as he returned to clicking away on his computer.
Travis
Abby leaned in with a smile when I kissed her cheek, and then continued with check-in while I popped over to the concierge to nail down a chapel. I glanced over at my soon-to-be wife, her long legs propped up by those wedge heel shoes that make a nice pair of legs look even nicer. Her flow-y, thin shirt was just see-through enough that I felt disappointed to see a tank top under it. Her favorite sunglasses were perched on the front of her favorite fedora, and just a few long locks of her caramel hair, a little wavy from drying naturally after her shower, were cascading out from under the hat. My God, that woman was fucking sexy. She didn’t even have to try, and all I wanted was to be all up in her business. Now that we were engaged that didn’t sound like such a bastard thing to think.
“Sir?” the concierge said.
“Oh, yeah. Hey,” I said, taking a last glance at Abby before giving the guy my full attention. “I need a chapel. Open all night. Classy.”
He smiled. “Of course, sir. We have several for you right here at the Bellagio. They are absolutely beautiful and—”
“You don’t happen to have Elvis at a chapel here, do you? I figure if we’re going to get married in Vegas, we should either get married by Elvis, or at least invite him, ya know?”
“No, sir, I apologize, the Bellagio chapels do not offer an Elvis impersonator. However, I can find a few numbers for you to call and request that one appear at your wedding. There is also, of course, the world famous Graceland Chapel, if you prefer. They have packages that include an Elvis impersonator.”
“Classy?”
“I’m sure you’ll be very pleased.”
“Okay, that one. As quickly as possible.”
The concierge smiled. “In a hurry, are we?”
I started to grin, but I realized I was already smiling, and probably had been, like an idiot, since I arrived at his desk. “Do you see that girl over there?”
He glanced at her. Quickly. Respectfully. I liked him. “Yes, sir. You’re a lucky man.”
“I sure as shit am. Schedule the wedding for two . . . maybe three hours from now? She’ll need time to pick up a few things and get ready.”
“Very thoughtful of you, sir.” He clicked a few buttons on his keyboard and then grabbed the mouse, moving it around and clicking it a few times. His smile faded as he concentrated, and then it lit up his face again when he finished. The printer buzzed, and then he handed me a piece of paper. “There you are, sir. Congratulations.” He held up his fist, and I bumped it, feeling like he’d just handed me a winning lottery ticket.
CHAPTER FOUR
Three Hours
Travis
Abby held my hand, pulling me along as we walked through the casino to the elevators. I was dragging my feet, trying to take a look around before we went upstairs. It had only been a few months since the last time we’d been in Vegas, but this time was less stressful. We were here for a much better reason. Regardless, Abby was still all-business, refusing to pause long enough for me to get too comfortable around the tables. She hated Las Vegas and with good reason, which made me question even more why she chose to come here, but as long as she was on a mission to be my wife, I wasn’t going to argue.