“They went out to the club for you. They were letting the team know you’re off limits.”
I bite my lip, unsure how to take that. I’m conflicted—should I be mad that these two are getting jealous over me, or should I be a little happy about it?
“So you know about them? About how they—”
My dad holds his hand up to halt me. “I put it together between yesterday and today.” The room falls silent for a moment, and I could die of embarrassment. Mother and I never talked about sex. She’d try to get me to date people she wanted to set me up with, but we never talked about other things that went along with dating. “You’re an adult, Melly. But as your dad I don’t want you to be hurt or taken advantage of.”
“You think they’d do that?” I ask. I want his opinion on this.
“Hell if I know. They seem like good boys.” I want to laugh that my dad keeps calling them boys. “But I don’t think you’ve dated much.” I nod in agreement. “Then maybe this date tonight might be good for you. See what’s out there. There’s no rush.”
After last night I’m not sure Wes and Dean would agree with that. And after what my dad said I know for sure he didn’t ask them to watch out for me last night at the club. I’d pretty much pieced that together over breakfast, but it’s good to know it was their own doing. They’re territorial.
They would probably be pissed if they knew I have a date tonight.
“Go on the date, Melly.” My dad stands from his chair. “Make sure you meet him wherever you’re going; don’t ask him to come here. Go somewhere busy, and then come home alone.”
I fight my eyeroll. Instead I walk over and hug my dad. I love how he’s always on my team. He’s so different from my mother.
“I’ll get out of here so you can finish getting ready.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I walk him to the door and open it for him.
When I do, I stare at Wes and Dean’s door for a moment. I debate once again canceling my plans for drinks. I wonder if they’re inside lounging on their sofa and watching Netflix. That sounds like so much more fun than having an awkward first date.
I wave goodbye to my dad and close the door. Glancing over at the clock, I see I’m supposed to meet Mason in twenty minutes.
“Crap.” I rush to my bedroom to get ready. It’s way too late to cancel and it’s only drinks. I’ll have one and then leave. Making small talk should be easy enough.
Stripping off my clothes, I grab the rose-pink dress I laid out, then slip my feet into a pair of flats. I grab my purse from the sofa, snatch my phone from the counter, and head out. When I get to the front of the building, I hail the first taxi I see and hop in. The place isn’t far, but I don’t know my way around, so walking isn’t an option.
The taxi pulls up outside of a casino. I hop out and wander inside. I go over to a map and try to find the bar I’m looking for. This place is huge. As I stand there, I feel someone watching me and I glance back over my shoulder.
A big figure catches my eye. Wes. He’s not looking at me but somewhere off to the left and he’s shaking his head. Did he follow me?
No, there’s no way. He’s not even looking my way. I try to see what he’s staring at and why he’s shaking his head. Then I see Dean pop out from behind a sign. Clearly Dean is hiding from something, and Wes wants no part of it.
I turn back around and study the map to find where I’m going. I give a small glance over my shoulder one more time to see Dean grabbing Wes, trying to pull him behind the sign with him. I have to fight a smile.
I pretend not to notice as I make my way through the casino. I stop every now and then to pretend to look at something, and every time I spot them not too far behind me. Dean’s trying to hide and Wes shakes his head like Dean is being ridiculous.
I should be irritated, but all I can think is how adorable this is. They’re both impossibly large. How could they not stand out in a crowd?
When I get to the bar, I glance around.
“Miss Green?” the hostess asks. She’s in a short dress that looks like what you might wear to a club. I glance around, wondering if I’m underdressed, but it doesn’t look like it compared to the atmosphere. I remind myself this is Vegas and most of the women dress like this daily.
“Yes,” I say, giving her a smile.
“Right this way.” I follow her and spot Mason as we get closer to the table.
He looks just like his profile picture. He stands and I think he’s going to hug me, so I hold out my hand. He smiles, taking it and bringing it to his mouth. He places a kiss on it and an uneasy feeling rumbles in my stomach. The kiss on my hand feels wrong. It’s nothing like when Wes’s and Dean’s lips where on me.
I hear something break behind me but don’t turn to look. I have a feeling I know who broke it. Or if I had a guess, that would give me a fifty-fifty shot of getting it right.
“Enjoy your evening,” the hostess says and rushes off, I’m guessing, to clean up whatever mess was just made.
“You’re even more stunning in person, Amelia.” Mason pulls my chair out for me and I sit down. His hand runs along my back, making me jump at the unwanted touch.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
A waitress comes over and takes our drink orders. We fall into polite talk about where we went to college. I glance over my shoulder as Mason rattles on and on about himself. I can already tell he likes to talk about himself. I had a feeling he might be that way from his profile and some of the long-winded messages he sent me. He probably won’t even notice I’m not paying attention to what he’s saying.
My eyes narrow on Wes and Dean, who are half hiding behind menus as the pretty hostess flirts with them. I grit my teeth, hating it. I know I don’t have a claim on them, and it’s not like I have room to be upset. I’m on a freaking date, but I can’t help myself. The idea of other women giving them attention makes me want to storm over there and smack all of them.
Jealousy flows through me. Two can play this game, I think as I turn back to Mason.
Chapter Eight
Wes
The waitress says something and I look up to see she’s leaning over us and trying to get closer. I sit back in my chair and turn my eyes back to Amelia.
“Water,” I say when she won’t leave, and after a second she takes the hint.
Dean keeps trying to hold the menus in front of us so we can hide behind them, but I don’t give a shit if she sees us. We’re here to watch her, and I’m not apologizing for that.
We may have listened through her door when she was talking to her dad to find out she had a date tonight. That might be considered stepping over the line by most people, but to me it’s just good sense. We care about Amelia, and we want to make sure she’s safe at all times. Plus, we want to murder anyone who tries to take her from us, and we need to know where she is in order to do that.
“We’re supposed to be incognito,” Dean whispers, and I roll my eyes.
“She knows we’re here.”
“Shit. Do you think?” he asks, and I want to bang my head on the table.
What the fuck are we doing? Are we really going to sit here and allow our woman to be touched by another man? This isn’t who we are.
“We’ve waited our whole lives for her,” I say, looking at Dean.
There’s silence between us, then I hear Amelia giggle. I turn to look at her and see her touch the guy she’s with. The laugh is fake. I know what she sounds like when she’s happy, and that wasn’t it. She’s putting on a show for us just to make us jealous.
Oh hell no.
I stand up out of my chair so fast it falls over backwards. Dean is up instantly and by my side. I make my way over to the table with nothing but determination and possession in my steps. I won’t sit back and watch this any longer.
When we get there, her date looks up and blinks in shock to see us standing there. “Oh my god, you’re Wes Long and Dean Farmer. Wow, can I get a selfie?” he asks, standing up and getting his phone out of his pocket.
“Amelia is leaving,” I say, holing out my hand and waiting for her to take it.
She opens her mouth to say something, but I shake my head.
“Get up from the table, little one. It’s time to go home.”
Dean walks around behind her and grabs her bag. She looks at him and he gives her a big smile that shows off the dimple I know she loves. She turns her eyes back on me and I nod, letting her know this is okay. But just when I think she’s going to put her hand in mine, she squares her shoulders and turns her eyes back on her date.
“I think I’m going to finish my drink first,” she says, the sass clear in her voice.
“You know these guys? That’s awesome. Can you get me some season tickets?” the guy asks, and I want to knock him on the top of his head.
Having been pushed into a corner, I decide I’m tired of being polite. I lean down so my face is even with hers and wait for her to look at me. It takes a second, but we both know she can’t resist.
“I’m going to give you to the count of three. Then I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. This isn’t a threat. I’m giving you the play we’re about to run.”