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“We were talking about my travel.” He waved the key in front of the reader and opened his door, pushing his suitcase inside before he leaned in the doorway and looked at me.

“She thought it would be real funny if we ended up as neighbors.” His stare dropped down my body, and I could feel every inch it traveled. “And somehow, we did.”

Why was my chest aching from this news?

Why did I want to be a fly on the wall when I was the topic of conversation with his sister?

Why did any of this matter?

It shouldn’t.

But it did.

“You talk to Eden about me?”

“Don’t you talk to Ginger about me?”

He had me there.

“Beck, we’re at this hotel for three nights.” I swallowed. “THREE.” How was I supposed to sleep? Breathe? Function? With him this close? “I’ll … change rooms. I’m going to go to the front desk and?—”

“You can’t. My assistant already tried to upgrade me into a larger suite. She was told by management that the entire hotel is sold out.”

If there was air in my body, it was gone. “You’re telling me I’m stuck in this room?”

“Come on. It won’t be so bad. Besides, you’re the one who doesn’t want anything. So, where I sleep, whether it’s on a different floor or on the other side of the wall as you, shouldn’t affect you at all.”

I snorted.

The sound, I assumed, made him smile.

“Sorry to torture you, baby.” He went into his suite, and the door closed behind him.

Ginger

OMG, that game. You guys crushed Vegas!

Me

It was intense, wasn’t it? I swear I held my breath the entire time.

Ginger

Beck was on fire. I mean, the man was angry out there. He was hitting that puck like he needed to get something out.

Me

That’s because he is angry.

Ginger

At you?

Me

My decision. Our situation. How there’s nothing but this scorching chemistry between us and we’re on the verge of exploding from it.

Ginger

You know, it seems like he’ll do anything to have you.

Me

It’s bizarre to hear you say that—or type that, whatever.

Ginger

You do realize it though, don’t you?

Me

He’s made it clear how much he wants me, which I honestly still can’t believe. But I think I’ve made it clear that it can’t happen.

I don’t know, Ginger. This is so hard …

Ginger

It has to be so tough to be on the road with him, seeing him so much in addition to thinking about him. It’s like you don’t get a break.

Me

I’m angry. Just as angry as him and for all the same reasons.

And we’re only at our first stop, and our rooms are directly next to each other. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that happened.

But is the world trying to punish me?

Seriously, Ginger, did I piss someone off? Did I fuck up somehow?

Ginger

Do you want my honest answer?

Me

Please.

Ginger

The man you’ve been thinking about since our sophomore year in college is madly and wildly obsessed with you. BE WITH HIM. We’ll figure out the consequences later.

I heard the sound of a door opening, and I sat up in bed to check my own. It was dead-bolted, so of course it couldn’t be mine. And because I was in the last room in the hallway, that meant there was only one other it could be.

Beck’s.

I got out of bed and moved to the wall, putting my ear against it, trying to listen to what he was doing on the other side. There was running water and the clearing of this throat and?—

What the hell am I doing ?

I crawled back into bed.

Me

I’m not even going to tell you what I just did. You’re going to think I’m bananas—because I am.

Ginger

Tell meeeee.

Me

I heard Beck return to his room, and I put my ear to the wall to listen. Like it matters what he’s doing. What is wrong with me? When did I become this person?

Ginger

I don’t blame you for doing that. You’re making sure he’s not with another girl. And if he is, you go over there with a flamethrower and set that room on fucking fire.

Me

What? Why would you even say that? Why would you even put that thought into the universe?

Ginger

Does the thought bother you?

Me

It makes me feel ill. The kind of ill where my heart aches, and my hands shake, and my stomach turns to knots.

Ginger

Good.

Now do yourself a favor, go be with that man before he DOES bring home another girl.

He’s not going to wait forever, Jolie.

Dad

Have you seen the team this morning?

Me

Yes, at breakfast.

Dad

Any idea what they did last night after the game?

Me

I think they grabbed some food at Charred—Beck’s restaurant.

Dad

Do you know what they’re doing today?

I moved over to the window in my room, gazing down at the pool.

My suite was so high up, it was impossible to see any of the faces below, but I’d heard the murmurs at breakfast that a bunch of them were going there, and someone had mentioned there was a volleyball net and they should have a game in the pool.

Me

I believe they’ll just be hanging out at the pool.

Dad

I’d like you to be there too. I want you to keep an eye on things.

Me

Why?

Dad

Just to make sure nothing happens.

Me

Dad, these are grown-ass men. Some are married with children. They don’t need a babysitter.

Dad

Jolene, these aren’t just men. They’re the representatives of our team.

I’m not asking you, I’m telling you to be there.

Times like this, I wished my boss weren’t my father. As his daughter, I felt I had every right to talk back and tell him exactly how I felt about what he was asking of me. As his employee, I didn’t. I had to just do what he said.

But, my God, his order was making me furious.

I needed a break from Beck. That was why I’d only popped into breakfast, grabbed a banana and a coffee, and quickly left to hit the gym.

That was why I’d spent the rest of the morning at the spa.

And that was why, once I showered and got dressed, I planned on walking the Strip this afternoon, getting lost within the chaos of pedestrians and doing some massive retail therapy.

The pool wasn’t on my agenda.

Beck amnesia was.

Yet my dad was making that impossible, forcing me to face a reality that I was beyond tired of looking at, just like he’d done to me on the plane. A reality that continuously repeated in my head, You can’t be with him.

Me

I’m headed there right now.

“Would you like a refill?” the server at the pool asked as I set down my empty whiskey sour on the small table beside my lounge chair.

I would like ten.

Make that twelve.

And hold the sour mix.

But instead, I smiled at him and replied, “Please,” and returned my gaze to the tablet in my hands.

At least I was attempting to read. The book was loaded onto the screen. Except I would skim a line or two and immediately glance up to stare at Beck.

Fucking Beck.

He was in the pool, not more than fifteen feet from me, hanging with a bunch of the players.

They’d just finished a game of volleyball.

Which meant I’d had to endure almost an hour of his arms lifting in the air, his triceps contracting from the movement, his shoulders flexing, his back muscles tightening, his pecs bulging.

And when he jumped to spike the ball, I had a clear shot of his abs, etched like someone had used a spade and dug an outline around the perimeter and middle of his abdomen, each one ripped from the tension.

But that wasn’t the only thing that had me completely worked up.

His whole attitude was doing that too—the way he was laughing with his friends, smiling, the sly glances, the flirtatious ones. With his sunglasses being so dark, I couldn’t tell if at any point he was looking at me.

But did it matter?

Ugh, this was excruciating.

And all it did was make me angrier at my father.

I’d been down here for almost two hours. That was more than enough.

The guys were fine.

They didn’t need someone watching over them.

Besides, I simply couldn’t take another second of this.

I waited until the server returned with my drink, and I closed out my tab and downed the last cocktail he had delivered. I then grabbed my cover-up—an old white button-down of my dad’s that I let hang open. I tossed my bag over my shoulder and walked toward the entrance of the Cole and Spade Hotel.

The second I got inside, I was blasted with a breeze of the freezing air-conditioning. I didn’t even shiver; the cold air was needed. Not because the desert sun had steamed up my skin—although there was that—but because Beck had.

I moved through the lobby and passed the archway of the casino. I wasn’t a gambler. I worked hard for my money. I didn’t like the thought of wasting it on something that could gobble it up with one pull, but for some reason, the sound of the machines and the lights and music were calling to me.

The first row of slots I came to had large decorative coins hanging from the ceiling above them, along with massive four-leaf clovers. There were digital leprechauns dancing across the screens.

I didn’t feel like luck had been on my side lately.

Maybe the slots could change that.

I grabbed a five out of my wallet and fed it into the opening near the center of the machine.

I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

I searched for a handle to pull, but there wasn’t one.

But there was a button labeled Spin , and I hit it.

The wheels inside turned, and when each one landed, I waited for a noise, a siren—anything.

There was nothing.

I did it four more times with the same result, and when I located the box that listed how much money I had remaining, it showed zero.

I hadn’t won a single round out of five?

Fuck my life.

I made my way out of the casino and into the elevator that brought me to my floor.

Once I got off, I went down the hallway, and in front of my suite, I dug through my bag for the key card.

My fingers touched the sunscreen and tablet and wallet and bottle of water before I found the small rectangular piece of plastic.

Just as I was waving it in front of the reader, I heard the sound of flip-flops.

I glanced down the hallway, the same way I’d done yesterday when I was checking into my room. And just like last time, Beck was there.

Oh God.

He had on a pair of swim trunks and a short-sleeved button-down that was open, his skin glistening and already tan.

And those muscles … they tightened as he walked.

He was heading to his room. Because of course he was. The one that was regrettably next to mine.

Would I forever have to fight these temptations?

And my feelings?

What about what Ginger had said to me? How eventually Beck would get tired of waiting for me and be with another woman.

Would I be able to handle that?

Would I live with a lifetime of regret?

I turned around and pushed my back against the door, watching him get closer.

My body was warming again despite the hallway being as cold as the casino. My skin was actually tingling. That spot between my legs, throbbing.

There was only one man whose arms I wanted to pull me against him.

To kiss me.

To touch me.

“Locked out of your room?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then what’s going on?” He stopped at his door, his hand on the knob, the other one holding the key card. His gaze eventually became fixed on mine. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

I nodded.

“What is it, Jolie?”

Was I putting off the inevitable and wasting moments that I could be spending with him?

Yes.

Would I have to deal with the consequences, some that could be catastrophic?

Yes.

Would I regret this decision?

No.

“I want you.”