Waking Up in Vegas(70)

Neither of us said a thing on the short drive back to my place. I wasn’t sure what Jen was thinking, although, from her staccato breathing, I had a pretty good idea. I kept catching her in my peripheral vision, looking at me and chewing her bottom lip like dessert. By the time we pulled into the driveway, my hands were shaking and I parked halfway across the lawn because I was losing my ability to steer.

I had also managed to talk myself down (in a manner of speaking) and planned to keep my trembling fingers to myself. The Rule still stood, regardless of how seamlessly we fit together while we were dancing.

We were on the third day without her sorting through her stuff. There was still a ton left to go through; I know, I’d looked out there. She hadn’t packed up anything from her bedroom, and unless she was sneaking off to make phone calls, she wasn’t even talking to her folks, let alone anyone else in Arizona.

I was infinitesimally encouraged.

And incredibly frustrated. It had been ten damn days of celibacy and I was ready to crawl the walls. Before Jensen had skated into town, my longest dry stretch had been Sundays through Tuesdays. Now, I didn’t even want my own hand, let alone some other woman.

She’d ruined me. And fuck me upside-down if I would have it any other way.

“It was a beautiful evening, Tack. Thank you,” Jen murmured. She wouldn’t look at me. Instead, she slipped off her high heels and fled down the hall to her room.





Chapter 21




*Down With The Sickness*



I should be sleeping.

I’m supposed to be sleeping.

It’s quiet enough to be sleeping.

It was also quiet enough that I heard Jen’s phone receive at least seven texts.

Who could she be having a textversation with? We both know the same people.

Unless it was a friend from Kansas City.

Or maybe it was her mom.

Assuming her mother is tech-savvy. Lord knows mine is, and she has no problem whatsoever peppering me with a barrage of whatever’s on her mind, like edicts advice on how to run my life her way.

I still can’t believe I didn’t plaster her to the nearest flat surface when we got home and strip both of us naked in less than sixty seconds.

I also can’t believe that she didn’t do the same.

The whole damn point of The Rule was to get her to come to me, whereby I could then point out—afterward—that she must not have wanted to leave that badly if she was willing to give it all up for a handful of Tack-generated orgasms.

But she still hasn’t done it.

We only have two nights left under the same roof, and she wasn’t cracking.

Maybe she does truly intend to leave.

I was out of ideas to stop it.

God dammit.





I woke up to the smell of brewing coffee.

She actually got up on her own? Chalk up another unbelievable for Little Miss Sunshine.

Just how in the royal fuck will I get through our timeslot today, knowing that tomorrow’s our last?

I can’t.

Add in my exhaustion (I have no clue what time I fell asleep; the last time I looked at my phone, it was after three) and I knew my temper wasn’t going to hold.

“Jen?” I called out.

Her towel-wrapped head poked through the opening in my half-closed door. “What’s up?”

“Tell them I’m not coming in today.”

She quirked one eyebrow and her ever-present semi-smile disappeared. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” I faked holding back a gag. “But I think it’s best I don’t go on the air feeling this lousy.”

What—none of it was a lie.

She bustled over to my bed and laid a cool palm across my forehead. “What’s wrong? You feel normal.”

I made a big show of swallowing a lump of nothing and got a bellyful of air. Now I did feel like barfing.

Great.

“Maybe it was something at the restaurant last night.” Again, that wasn’t untrue, for those of you keeping score. “I’m going to try to sleep it off.”

“What should I tell the boss?”

“Tell him anything you want. You’re a big girl, you can handle the show all by yourself. You’ll be doing it soon enough, anyway.” That last bit came out with a touch more bite than I’d intended, but screw it.

“You’re right,” she said stiffly. “I should thank you for the practice.”

But she didn’t actually thank me as she walked out, closing the door behind her a little harder than she needed to.



I really did go back to sleep. After I really did throw up.

My stomach was aching from the quart of air I’d swallowed, that’s all.

Shut up.

The dog’s ecstatic greeting when Jen came through the door at one-thirty woke me up.

“Tack?” she yelled. “You here?”