“We’re closed for the evening. If you’d like to make a reservation you can call in the morning. We open tomorrow at eleven.”
“Closed? But…” I want to argue that she must have her facts wrong. Dalton wouldn’t do this to me. Would he? Would he play a sick game like this? “Okay,” I say, “thank you.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall, so I turn away to leave, hiding my disappointment. And to think that for a moment in time, I almost thought…Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. The restaurant is closed.
“What do I know about keeping a woman happy? I haven’t had a relationship that lasted. The one thing I have learned though is an apology should be genuine or it’s pointless.” ~Johnny Outlaw
“Mademoiselle, wait. Is your name Holliday Hughes by chance?” The hostess asks after tapping me on the shoulder. Startled, I turn around and see fascination written all over her face.
“Yes,” I reply, sucking down my disappointment that Dalton’s not here.
“I’m sorry. I was told the woman would be wearing a black dress.” She smiles and says, “Mr. Outlaw is waiting upstairs for you.”
“He is?”
She continues smiling as the elevator doors that will lead me to the restaurant open. Swinging her arm out for me to enter, she says, “He is.”
Just before the doors close, I ask, “What about Mr. Dalton?”
She tilts her head confused, but the doors close too soon for her to respond. It was rhetorical anyway.
I grip the railing as the elevator takes me up. When the doors open, I hesitate and take a deep breath before walking out. I go to the bar, instantly spying Dalton across the room standing near the large windows. The Bellagio Fountains are lit up, as if on demand, as the man they’re performing for watches. His silhouette is dark against the bright and choreographed water rising high into the sky. Even with the dancing water, he outshines it all.
Walking slowly across the room, I’m not sure what I’m going to say. John Mayer is crooning through the speakers above and it feels out of place for the French setting. I stop next to Dalton, watching the fountains move across the lake, and whisper, “Hi.”
Dalton’s eyes flash to mine. “Hi.”
With both of us watching the fountains outside, I say, “I didn’t take you for a John Mayer fan.”
“I’m taking notes. He’s a king at romancing the ladies.”
“I hear he’s gifted in other ways as well.” I turn to look at him, really look at him. “Not that I would know or anything.”
“Drink?” he asks.
His drink is on the table next to him, it looks like whiskey or bourbon—either will do. “I’ll have what you’re having.” I pick up the glass and take two sips.
He chuckles under his breath. “Literally, you mean, you’ll take what I’m having.”
I shrug. “Figured since we’ve swapped spit already, what does it matter now.”
His tone turns serious. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not telling you who I was.”
Guess it’s better to deal with this now then to beat around the bush. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it, trying to understand why you didn’t tell me.”
“It wasn’t to hurt you,” he says.
I turn back to appreciate the fountains before the show ends. “But why lie?”
He’s next to me watching the show, but his hand crosses the divide and takes mine in his. “I didn’t want to ruin it.”
I whisper, “You didn’t.”
His hand goes flat against the glass and he says, “It’s magical.”
“The Fountains?”
“No.” He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t have to. I feel it too.
I place my hand flat on the glass next to his, our thumbs touching. “What now?”
When he looks at me, light reflects in his eyes, and he smiles. “I thought we’d eat, then move on and cover a few what-ifs you might have.”
“Hope you’ve got some time because I have a whole slew of what-ifs to cover.”
“I’ve got all night, but my flight is at ten in the morning.”
“You’re leaving Las Vegas?”
“We were only here for meetings and the gig. Are you going back to Los Angeles tomorrow?”
“Yes, back to the real world.”
“This world is real, Holliday. It’s my world and I’m asking for it not to end here, for us to get to know each other better.”
Every girl dreams of hearing someone like him say that to them, but as I look around, it’s not just words with him. He means it. “Tempting. You did rent an entire restaurant just for us, after all. That’s quite the romantic overture.”