“Fine, Austin.” I drop my head back against the booth behind me, grumbling up at the ceiling. I just want this to be over with.
“Fine, I’ll sign a freaking prenup, okay?”
I turn my face back to him. “Although I’m pretty sure the ‘pre’ part of ‘pre-nuptials’ means I sign it before we get married.”
He shrugs awkwardly. “Eh, shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll call my lawyer.”
I frown into the coffee on the Formica table between us. “Whatever, just have it written up and I’ll sign it.”
We sit in silence another minute, a million thoughts blowing through my still-aching head as I try and begin to wrap my mind around what’s going on.
“So, now what,” I mumble, looking up at him.
“Now we should probably get back to LA and face the music.” He makes a face. “I haven’t even turned my phone back on, but I’m sure I’ve got about a million messages.”
I give him a look. “Right, cause you’re famous.”
Austin grins. “You know, if you’d turned on the television once or twice in the last two years, you might’ve recogni-”
“Okay, okay,” I grumble, rubbing my temples. “Can we leave Las Vegas now? I think we’ve done quite enough damage for one trip.”
He smirks. “You don’t want to stay another day and see if we can top last night?”
I roll my eyes, suppressing the grin on my face. “Unless you want to knock over a casino or murder a stranger, I don’t think that’s going to be possible.
Austin leans back in the booth across from me, lacing his hands behind his head. “Hey, you know, you could be a murderer and I’d never know it.” He shrugs, grinning at me irritatingly. “I mean, I’m taking a real risk here getting back in a car with you.”
I give him a look as I slide out of the booth and stand shakily. “Tiny violins, buddy.”
He laughs as he drops some cash on the table and stands, offering me an arm. “So, now we go play the part then. Ready, dear?”
I stare out the window at Vegas receding into the background in the side window. Well, so, that happened. Somehow I’ve jumped from whatever my sham life was with Vince to the biggest sham I can imagine - legally married to the most infuriating man on the planet. Legally married, even though it’s fake - even though he’s paying me $500,000.
He wasn’t infuriating when he was just some gorgeous stranger in a bar whom you kissed like a crazy person.
And I hate the thought that comes to my mind, but there it is, with a finger right in my face. Because the biggest sham of all might be me trying to convince myself that being around Austin Taylor is the worst thing ever.
Because really, it might not be that bad at all.
I scowl at the traitorous thought as we speed through the desert back to LA - back to the real world, back to my new world as Mrs. Austin Taylor.
12
Austin
For some reason, the ride back to the real world outside the glitter and tinsel of Vegas seems to take three times as long as it took to get here. And it could be that I’m still epically hung over from the frankly inhuman amount of tequila and champagne I consumed last night, but I get the feeling it’s more than that.
Maybe it’s what happened in Vegas sure as shit isn’t going to stay there.
Because what happened in Vegas is glittering on her finger like an obnoxious little reminder, catching every fucking ray of afternoon sun through the windshield and reflecting it right into my eyes. What happened in Vegas is slumped in the seat next to me - sexy as sin in that little white dress, but scowling out the window like she wishes she could just stay back there.
And of course, there’s the other distraction - the distracting fact that my Vegas souvenir is fucking gorgeous. Even scowling, and sullen with her face to the window like that, she just radiates this hot sort of energy that has me glancing at her every quarter mile.
The dress she’s wearing from the night before is hiked high on her thigh, showing a dangerously distracting amount of her toned leg. One strap of her dress hangs halfway down her shoulder, and though it might look disheveled or sloppy on any other girl in the world, it somehow just looks fucking great on her - like this little touch of character that sets her apart.
She’s got a finger from one hand stuck between her perfect, soft lips - chewing at the nail as she stares out the window with those big blue eyes. As I glance over, her other hand comes up and brushes a stray lock of hair back from her face to tuck it behind her ear.
And that damn ring glints right at me - that huge, gaudy, absurdly extravagant ring.