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And as it happens, Spencer is in Vegas visiting his brothers since the Vegas Aces—the team two of his brothers play for and the other is the head coach of—have Wild Card weekend off.
Spencer mentioned maybe we could get together while we’re in town at the same time, and I know it was just him being friendly since he’s going to marry my sister, but that chat we had the other day makes me think maybe he’s not actually going to marry my sister.
I’ve spent the last few days making sure everything is lined up so I can attend this symposium. That means I have Heidi, my part-time assistant, on double duty.
Heidi attends a small college not far from here. She’s a senior studying communications, and she’s organized and smart. She started working with us when she was looking for an internship last year, but she was such an asset that I offered her a position helping on the weekends with weddings. And at this point, she’s done so many of them with me that I have full confidence she can easily run one without me there. Between Nana and my dad, they’ll be fine.
It does feel good to know that three people are necessary to fill the role I’ve taken on at the winery. I have a lot of pride in what I do, and I’m working hard to prove to my grandmother that I’m the one who deserves to run this place once my dad retires. He’s sixty-three, and I get the feeling he’s getting closer and closer to wanting to just enjoy life without the responsibilities here tying him down.
I head toward the airport Thursday morning for my late morning flight, and I land in Vegas three and a half hours later. I take an Uber to my hotel, and on the way there, I text Spencer.
Me: Just got into town. Waving!
His reply comes quickly.
Spencer: Waving back. Do you have dinner plans?
Me: No, I don’t. I’m on my way to the MGM to check in and get settled and have no plans beyond that.
Spencer: Then consider yourself booked. How does Mediterranean sound? There’s a place at MGM I want to try.
I have no idea what Mediterranean is. But if he wants to try a place, and he’s asking me, then yes. I am all in…because he’s my friend. He didn’t just ask me on a date, even if it sort of feels like he did.
He didn’t.
Me: Sounds great!
I don’t feel like I packed enough clothes for this.
I check in and get to my room, and I pick through the meager clothes I brought with me. I settle on a pair of black pants and a cute white top with my sneakers since it’s a long walk through this hotel. It’ll have to do for my not-a-date-sort-of-feels-like-a-date dinner with Spencer.
I head down to the restaurant a little early, and I wander through the casino as I make my way there. The symposium starts early tomorrow morning, but it feels like I could waste a little bit of time having some fun here tonight ahead of the business that starts tomorrow.
He’s already standing out front when I show up five minutes early. He’s ridiculously hot in his black button-down shirt with the long sleeves pushed up a little, and my eyes fall to his forearms. What is it about a man’s forearms with the sleeves pushed up that’s just…hot?
His arms are strong and powerful since he uses them to catch footballs and lead his team to victory.
He paired his black shirt with dark gray pants, and somehow the effect is casual and sexy at the same time.
I mean…not sexy. I’m not thinking my sister’s fiancé is sexy.
His blue eyes flick up to mine, and when he spots me, a small smile plays at his lips. I feel awkward as I approach him. Do we hug? We just saw each other a few days ago, and we’re just friends, and when the hell did I get so awkward around him?
“Newman,” he greets me as I get a little closer, calling me by just my last name.
“Hey, Nash,” I say softly.
He takes a step toward the restaurant just as I take a step closer to give him the hug I want to give him, and I lose the moment. Thankfully he doesn’t see me nearly make a fool of myself as I start to reach for him, and I clear my throat and battle away the embarrassment as I follow him toward the host stand. The guy standing by the doorway saw, though, and he’s laughing at me.
I shoot him a glare as Spencer gives his name to the hostess. He holds out a hand for me to go first, and I feel his hand on my lower back to guide me into position as the line leader just behind our hostess.
His hand. My back.
I know it’s nothing. It means nothing. It’s just a gentlemanly thing some guys do, and he was just offering to let me walk first.
If he’s engaged to my sister, then there’s no way he’d ever have any sort of interest in me. And not just because he’s a stand-up kind of guy who would never cheat on a woman—but because if she’s the type of woman he proposed to, then I’m the type of woman he could never fall for. We’re just too different.
I remind myself of that fact. I force myself to acknowledge it. He’s just being kind. I’m the girl who didn’t have any dinner plans, and he’s the guy who stepped in to make sure I wouldn’t have to eat alone in my hotel room.
