All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Twenty-Eight

        I'd only been on Grayson's private plane once before, on our trip from Las Vegas to Vancouver. In that particular moment, I'd been much too stressed out to enjoy the moment. Now I understood why private jets were such a luxury.

        It was the snacks. That was the luxury.

        "Grayson, you have fudge," I cried, taking a huge bite of it.

        "There's ice cream in the freezer too," he said, nodding towards it.

        While ice cream sounded amazing, it was too much sugar for my already-hyper mind to handle. I finished off my hunk of fudge and flopped down in my seat–the same seat was three aisles ahead of Grayson.

        Turning around, I waved and said, "Look how far apart we are right now. Laura would be ill right now. Violently ill."

        He snorted, trying to hide his laughter. "I feel so alone. It's wonderful."

        "It is. Say, when we get there, what do you say we walk through the airport not holding hands?" I suggested, rather scandalously.

        Grayson's eyes went wide. "Jackie, there'll be kids around," he scolded.

        "Yeah," I said with a wicked grin.

        He let out a low whistle. "Okay, but if anyone asks, we're siblings," he said, pretending to be against the idea.

        "Siblings!" I yelled with glee. "Oh, how I'm loving being single again. I liked my loner ways of not worrying about showing affection and sleeping in my own room and everything."

        "Our own rooms," he sighed dreamily. I sighed dreamily too.

        I think we're both going insane.

        "So are we going straight to your house when we get to Arlington?" Grayson asked, finally sobering up his mood.

        "Actually, I was wondering if maybe we could stop at Kylie's work for a minute to say hi? I know I just saw her but I already miss her," I said, crossing my fingers where he couldn't see.

        "Yeah, absolutely. It's the least we can do since you haven't been home in almost two months," he said, nestling into his chair. "Anything else you want to do or stop at?"

        "Just my house I think," I said, thinking. "See Kylie and get lunch, grab some of my stuff, visit my mother, then head on to Toronto."

        "Good plan. I will gladly take you to those places then happily remain a safe, friendly distance from you," he said, grinning again.

        This is how messed up Laura has made us. 

        Leaning back, I watched out the window for about an hour before the plane touched down. Alone, full of fudge, and happy, I exited and found my suitcase. Grayson did the same and we hopped in the fancy rental car. 

        "I'M DRIVING!" I cackled. Ah, to be back in the United States where people are maniacs and don't know how to drive!

        "Oh, I could get used to being a passenger princess," he said, folding his hands behind his head.

        "Elbows down, I can't see," I complained. 

        Grayson grumbled but complied. Gleefully whipping corners and screaming down the freeway, I made my way to the bar Kylie worked at.

        My darling husband did not enjoy the ride. "Jacks, you're going to kill us," he said, paling as he gripped the door handle.

        "Eh. It's fine." I skidded to a stop in a parking spot and shut the car off. 

        He tumbled out, looking mildly nauseated. "Perhaps I can drive to your house?"

        "Nah. I'm more fun," I said, opening the door for him. "After you, stranger."

        "Thank you, strange woman," he said with a nod of his head. 

        The bar was noisy, but relatively not busy. Not crazy either—I'd seen Kylie work nights like those and she was honestly a superhero. But now the place was only about half full, mostly with people eating dinner. Dim lights cast shadows across every table, only illuminating the bar with enough glow to actually see.

        "Table for two please," I said to the hostess. As we were seated, I whispered, "Grayson, I'm paying for dinner."

        "Absolutely not," he said immediately.

        "Absolutely yes," I said firmly. "We're in my country now, I get to pay."

        He glared at me. "You're unemployed right now thanks to me—I'm paying."

        "Nope. And I'm going to get Kylie on my side," I said smugly. The look on his face was absolutely murderous—a look that meant I was victorious.

        I spotted Kylie behind the bar. Deciding to surprise her, I sank down behind my menu and whispered, "I'm going to sneak attack her."

        "That is a terrible idea," Grayson hissed, remaining firmly seated.

        "I love terrible ideas," I whispered back, moving to stand.

        As I got up, he reached over and grabbed my wrist. "Whoa, whoa, wait, is that Clay?"

        "Clay? Can't be. He's...actually, I don't know where he is," I said, squinting at where Grayson was looking. The man nervously standing in the doorway could've been Clay's identical twin.

       "It's Clay, he looks like he's going to pee and he's staring at Kylie," Grayson said.

        I snorted. "How does 'looks like he's going to pee' a Clay identifier?"

        "He gets nervous around her, okay?"

        "So why did he directly seek her out?" I pointed out.

        "That, dear Jackie, is a very good question." Grayson was frowning as he added, "Should we stop him?"

        "No, no, I have a good feeling about this," I said eagerly, twisting in the booth to get a better view.

        Again, my husband was doubtful. "Good feeling? What on earth does that mean? Why would Clay ever give you a good feeling?"

        "Just watch."