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I roll my eyes because, duh. Of course, I’ll keep her safe. Yeah, she’s his sister, but she’s my roommate, and more importantly, she’s my friend. I’d never let anything happen to her. “You don’t have to worry. We’ll be good.”

Madds gives us a nod and then carries a sleepy-looking Isla out of the club. It’s kind of hilarious watching the crowd part for the big grump.

“Let’s get one more round before we get back on the floor,” Mira says. Her eyes are glassy, and she’s got this perpetual goofy grin on her face. She’s definitely drunk, and I’m damn close. I should probably cool my jets.

“I don’t know, Lil’ Gravesy. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Mira gasps in faux outrage. “Excuse me, mister, but I am on vacation in Vegas. I haven’t had enough until I’m seeing double.”

Oh boy. Nope. We’re not getting that drunk. That idea has disaster written all over it.

“One more round,” I relent.

Her smile grows. “Then, I get to pick the drinks.”

“Fine.” I’ll probably regret it, but she’s having so much fun, I’m loath to tell her no.

“Yay!” Mira claps her hands and goes to the bar. When she returns, she’s got a fruity drink in one hand and a double shot of something that smells like lighter fluid in the other. She holds the double shot out to me with a wicked grin. “Bottom’s up, Griffin.”

The alcohol burns going down, and I have a fleeting thought that I’ve made a mistake.

We dance for another twenty minutes, but Mira’s covered in sweat and I’m getting sick and tired of the limp-dick dude-bros trying to invade her space. “Want to walk around the Strip?” I shout.

Her green eyes light up at the suggestion. “Hell, yeah! Let’s go see that big fountain that squirts along with music.”

I have to close my eyes for a minute at her drunken word choice and tell my dick that she’s not asking us to make her squirt. “Not sure that’s the right term, Mir.”

“Eh. Potato, potahto.” And with that, she grabs my hand and tugs me out of the club.

As soon as the cool night air hits my overheated skin, I sigh deeply.

I hadn’t realized how sweltering it was in there.

I’m glad we’re here in January rather than the height of summer.

Spending so much time on the ice throughout my life has made me a huge baby when it comes to the heat.

I don’t know how people live in places like this year-round.

“Come on, I think the fountain’s this way.

” I don’t realize Mira is still holding my hand until she uses it to tug me down the sidewalk.

We dodge tourists and street performers, stopping a few times to take selfies with them.

Mira is particularly excited to see a somewhat convincing Lady GaGa impersonator, and I buckle over with laughter, holding my stomach, when Mira belts out an insanely out of tune rendition of “Bad Romance.”

By the time we make it to the fountain, we’re both giggling and swaying slightly. We may have had a few too many rounds at the club, but we’re not the only inebriated people out tonight. I’m pretty sure the couple next to us is drunk off their asses. How do I know?

The guy nearly topples over onto his butt when he tries to get down on one knee to propose to his girl, and she hiccups through her rambling acceptance.

“Look at them,” Mira says, her head cocked to the side and her eyes all glassy. “They’re so in love. Everybody’s in love.” Her pretty face scrunches up in a frown.

“What’s wrong?” I slur. The world spins a little as she turns and peers up at me.

“I thought I was gonna marry Jared.”

Huh. I don’t know why I hate those words so much, but I do. “Really?”

She nods her head emphatically. “Mmm-hmm. Thought he ticked all the boxes, and I’m not getting any younger and he was okay in bed, so that was good, you know?”

He was okay in bed ? Glowing praise.

“I wanna get married.” Mira blinks those big jade eyes at me. “I don’t want to end up alone, like my mom.”

Mira end up alone? The idea is ludicrous.

She’s smart, driven, and sexy as hell. A bunch of my teammates drool after her every time she comes to a game.

The only reason none of them have gone past subtle flirting is because she ignores them—and because Maddox has promised a broken hand to anyone stupid enough to lay a finger on his little sister.

And a broken dick if they’re dumb enough to go there.

“You won’t end up alone,” I reassure her.

Since she’s no longer paying attention to the fountain, I lace our fingers together, so we don’t get separated in the crowd, and lead her down the Strip.

We don’t have a destination in mind. We simply wander.

She oohs and ahhs over the lights and architecture, but it’s a little white chapel with a neon sign that has her stopping in her tracks.

“Ohmygod, it’s so cute,” she gushes, holding a hand to her heart. “I wonder if this is one of the chapels where you can have an Elvis marry you?” A giggle slips out of her parted lips.

“I tried to convince Maddox and Isla to get married at one of these tonight,” I tell her.

She giggles again. “I know, silly. I was there.”

“Oh. Right.” We both stare at the white chapel, swaying slightly. “Wanna see if they do tours?”

“Tours?” Mira scrunches up her nose. “That place is tiny. What would we tour?”

I shrug. “Wanna see if they have an Elvis?”

“Yes,” she says, clapping her hands. That idea has her excited.

“Do you think he’ll be a young Elvis or an old Elvis?” Young Elvis really knew how to make the ladies go crazy for him. Old Elvis liked weird-ass sandwiches that give me heartburn just thinking about them. I hope it’s a young Elvis.

“I don’t know.” Mira leans forward a bit, narrowing her eyes like she might develop X-ray vision if she tries hard enough. It’s adorable.

I tug her toward the chapel’s front door. “Let’s find out.”

We only stumble twice on our walk up to the little white building, but it has us giggling like idiots.

Mira shushes me as I open the door. “Shhh. People might be getting married in there.” She smashes her finger against my lips.

I shut my mouth because she appears super serious, and I don’t want to piss Mira off.

The Graves siblings have a temper if you rub them the wrong way.

She seems mollified when I nod, even though I almost burst out laughing again when her finger ends up in my left nostril because of the motion.

We stagger inside, and a Dolly Parton lookalike gives us a megawatt smile.

“Well hey there, sugar dumplins. You two looking to get married tonight?”

Mira and I look at each other and break out into more giggles. Us? Get married? That would be crazy.

“Tell me,” Mira says. “Does Elvis himself do the marrying?”

Dolly smiles. “Why, of course. There’s nothing quite like being married by the King himself.”

Maddox is such an idiot for passing this up.

“Is he an old Elvis or a young Elvis?” I ask.

Dolly throws back her head and laughs. “Young Elvis tonight, darlin’.”

I turn wide eyes on Mira and bounce on the balls of my feet, because Young Elvis? Hell, yeah! That’s what I’m talking about. “It’s young Elvis, Mir. Young Elvis!”

“So, is that a yes?” Dolly asks. “We’ve got a few different packages I’d be happy to tell you about. But a beautiful couple like you? I’d recommend the Enchanted Graceland package.”

“Enchanted Graceland? That sounds pretty,” Mira says.

“Oh, honey, it is.” Dolly waves us over to her little reception desk and flips open a brochure. “Let me tell you all about it.”