“You and I will do this again sometime,” Luke said. “Maybe not in this particular setting, though. I expect to be persona non grata around here very soon.”
Bryce stood. “You might be more welcome than you think. I have a hunch Benedict Cartwright will be happy to have you as an honored customer after you turn over the deed.”
“He might, at that.” Giselle liked the idea of her brother being a key player in potentially ending the feud between the Cartwrights and the Daltons. His time in Vegas had turned out to be more valuable than she ever would have dreamed.
“I just had an idea, although I don’t know if Benedict will go along with it. What if Vaughn thinks Benedict talked me into selling the Moon back to him? Would that get him out of the doghouse and restore some family harmony?”
“That’s a compassionate plan,” Giselle said. “It’s worth a try.” But she had a sudden image of a wolf in a doghouse, and she made the mistake of looking at Bryce. Judging from the sparkle in his green eyes, he’d thought the same thing. She quickly glanced away and pressed her lips together. Laughing at this private joke would be a very bad idea.
She would have loved to share the joke with Luke, but she couldn’t, and that made her sad. They’d become close in so many ways, yet they still were separated by an enormous gulf. Her heart longed to bridge that chasm and be one with him in all ways, but that was selfish thinking.
“I guess we’re all ready to leave, then.” Luke took out his wallet and left several bills on the table.
“Hey, are we paying?” Bryce reached in his hip pocket for his wallet. “I assumed it was on the house, but I’ll toss in something if it’s not.”
“The drinks are free, but the server still needs her tips.”
“Got it.” Bryce threw more money on top of Luke’s already large tip. “She didn’t have much business tonight, so this should help.”
Giselle smiled. Luke and her brother had a similar generosity of spirit. If she thought about it, she might find other traits they had in common. Mentally listing them and imagining a friendship between the two was a pointless exercise, though.
She took out some money she’d tucked in the pocket of her jeans before she’d walked over there and added it to the pile on the table.
“Goodness, I can see where this is headed.” Cynthia dug out some crumpled bills and put them on top of the growing stash. “I’m not about to be the cheapskate in the bunch.”
“Nor am I.” Mr. Thatcher produced a crisp hundred-dollar bill and balanced it carefully on the mound of cash.
Cynthia let out a whoop. “Way to trump us all, Mr. Thatcher!”
The butler smiled. “I always take pleasure in tipping well. Shall we go?”
As before, Mr. Thatcher led the way back to the Silver Crescent’s service entrance as if he were the patriarch of the group. For the most part, he filled the role beautifully.
But he wasn’t a big-picture kind of guy. He’d focused on the immediate problem—Luke’s unhappiness when Giselle left in the morning. He’d serve Luke far better by visualizing the disastrous long-term effects if she brought Luke into her world.
The cheerful group piled on the private elevator together. Mr. Thatcher got off on his floor, and a quick glance passed between him and Bryce before the doors slid closed. When Bryce and Cynthia got off, Bryce winked at Giselle, and true to form, she blushed.
“They beat the cleaning crew up to the suite.” Luke tucked his arm around her waist and pulled her close.
“I know they did.” She gazed up at him. “Bryce is threatening to blackmail me with the pictures on his phone.”
Luke grinned. “I trust you have your own blackmail material stored somewhere?”
“Absolutely. He won’t show those pictures to anyone, especially if he wants to get back with Miranda. I’ll be a key player in that effort. He won’t mess with me.”
The doors opened, and he kept his arm around her waist as they walked toward the double doors of the suite. “I doubt anyone messes with you, Harley girl. Which reminds me. You never showed me how to ride that hog.”
She looked into blue eyes filled with warmth . . . and regret. “Anyone can teach you. If you buy one, they’ll be happy to arrange for lessons. You’ll pick it up in no time.”
“You know I won’t do that,” he said softly, holding her gaze. “Every time I got on the damn thing I’d think of you.”
Her throat tightened.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I swore I wouldn’t get all mushy and sentimental tonight, and now I’ve made you look very sad.”
“I am sad,” she said in a husky voice.
“Not for long.” He tightened his grip around her waist and smiled. “Come with me, little girl. The big bad wolf is going to eat you up.”
It was the wrong teasing remark, and the tears she’d vowed not to cry began to fall.
“Well, damn.” He hustled her through the double doors. “I thought that might make you laugh, but apparently not.”
She covered her face with both hands. “I’ll . . . I’ll be . . . okay.” She choked back a sob. “Give me . . . a minute.”
“I’d give you the rest of my life if I could.” He gathered her close. “And I didn’t plan to say that, either.”
His words only made her cry harder. What a fool she’d been to think she could have a fun romp with this funny, gorgeous, generous, stubborn, and thoroughly loveable man.
“I’ll bet you wish you’d never started this.” He nestled her head against his broad chest and rubbed her back.
“No!” Her voice was clogged with tears. “I’m glad we’ve had this.” She took a shaky breath. “It’s just . . .”
“Yeah. It’s always tough when the party’s over.”
“Are you sorry?”
“Hell, no. I’ve always figured you’d leave. There was a point when I thought . . . Well, it doesn’t matter.” He leaned down and rested his cheek on her hair. “But you’re not gone yet. I vote we make the most of the time we have left.”
She gave a watery chuckle. “As opposed to having me cry the whole blessed time?”
“Something like that. Unless Bryce and Cynthia told you to as a final way to get me wet.”
“Oh, Luke.” She was half laughing and half crying, but that was better than totally crying. She drew back and swiped at her eyes. “Can I interest you in a trip to the bedroom?”
He gazed down at her. “You can, but I have no idea what we’ll find there. As you recall, I ordered a cleaning crew, not a housekeeper. They might have stripped the bed and left with the evidence.”
“At least it won’t be a leaky water bed.”
“Good point.” He hooked an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go investigate our options.”
When they reached the bedroom, Giselle’s tears gave way to helpless laughter.
Luke released her to go stand at the foot of the bed and stare in disbelief. “It’s the same. Still effing white.”
Giselle stifled her giggles. “If you didn’t tell them not to, then . . .”
“But you’d think, after seeing that god-awful mess we made, they’d have asked me if I wanted to keep everything the same.” He glanced at her. “Wouldn’t you have asked me, if you were them?”
“Maybe they tried.”
“Oh.” He pulled his phone out of his coat pocket and grimaced. “Three messages. I didn’t hear my phone. Did you hear my phone?”
She shook her head. “But I wasn’t listening for a phone. I was involved in other things.”
He looked up from his phone and his gaze locked with hers. “Me, too.” Maintaining eye contact, he shoved his phone back in his pocket as he walked back to her. “And I intend to be involved with those things again. Who gives a damn what color the bedding is?”