“Jesus,” he muttered. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“What day?”
“The day you begged me to party with you.”
“Whatever.” I paced to the other side of the room, but something snagged at me, drawing me back. “Wait. Wait just a sec…” I walked over to him, poking him in the chest. “Did you encourage me to drink all that booze so you wouldn’t touch me?” I looked down at myself and wondered how drunk I looked. “Is this like… Zane repellent, or something?”
He laughed shortly, but the look in his blue eyes was much less than funny.
Yeah. I’d hit that one on the head.
Motherfucker had gotten me drunk on purpose so he wouldn’t fuck me.
“Shit. You’re such a dick!”
“How am I a dick? You wanted to have some champagne, and why shouldn’t you? Why should you have to deal with Dizzy sober?”
“Exactly!” I was so thrilled that he saw it the same way I did, I tossed myself against him, slapping my hands on his chest. “Come on, Zane! Get over it. I promise I won’t grope you. I just can’t go to bed right now. I’ll just lay there eating all those chocolates and being pissed at Dizzy and that’s fucking stupid.”
He studied me, a bunch of shit going on behind his eyes that I couldn’t fathom. “Not worried about you groping me, Maggs.”
“Okay. Well, I’m not gonna let you grope me either. I’m not that drunk.” I wasn’t totally sure that I wasn’t, but whatever. “Just… I don’t know… get your shit together and smoke a joint or something, man. I need you.”
His gaze slithered down my chest. I was still leaning on him, my breasts crushed against him. “Sure you want me to do that, babe?”
“Why not?” I asked casually, stepping back to put some space between us.
“Because I get horny as fuck when I smoke up.”
He wasn’t kidding. I could hear it in his voice. Could see it on his face.
But I wasn’t some innocent victim here. I could keep my panties on if I wanted to.
I’d already kept them on for six years.
“You already smoked up when we were on the patio tonight, remember? And you managed to keep control of yourself.”
“Right,” he said. He was already pulling out his weed to roll a joint, as he studied me with one eye closed. “But I did ask you to marry me.”
Chapter Nine
Maggie
Sometime later, Zane had smoked up, and I’d helped him. My eyeballs felt fuzzy and everything seemed really good.
Life was good, right?
I had the best job in the world. Every day I got up and I felt grateful for where I was. I had the respect of my co-workers, and I kicked ass at what I did. I knew I was appreciated. Needed.
So what if my dad didn’t see what I was worth?
Maybe my “marriage” to Zane would change that. Fundamentally, it probably wouldn’t. I’d just have to work harder at accepting it.
I wasn’t going to change Dizzy Bowman. The man was an old, old dog, with no interest in picking up any new tricks.
And so what if I had no real girlfriends outside of work? I could always make new friends.
Besides… I had Zane. And right about now, that was all I really needed.
What else could I possibly need?
When he and I were together—and not pissing each other off—it just fit. It felt right. At least, when he wasn’t trying to get up my skirt.
Thing was, these moments were few and far between.
Maybe that was the only real problem between us.
We sat side by side, close together on the big white bed. We’d managed to have an extremely engaging conversation about Hanna-Barbera cartoons, the kind of conversation where time just cruises on by and I, for one, didn’t even notice. I was vaguely aware that the sun would be coming up soon. We’d just had a heated, nonsensical argument about who would drive the car if we lived in the time of The Flintstones—uh, obviously we both would; it took a lot of feet to move those stone wheels, right?—and which dinosaur would make the best pet.
How we got onto The Flintstones? I asked Zane if he’d ever thought about marrying a woman before he popped the question out on the patio. I really thought the answer would be no. But after what appeared to be careful consideration, he said, “Betty Rubble.”
A while later, once we’d agreed to disagree about the dinosaurs, I said out of nowhere, “She already had a husband.”
Zane looked confused. “Huh?”
“Betty.”
“Betty who?”
I laughed, and I couldn’t stop laughing. It felt so fucking good to talk about nothing at all. Forget my dad. Forget this whole fucked-up night. Forget this unbearable sexual tension that had me all tied in knots every time I was alone with Zane.
I could live with it. All of it.
As long as Zane had my back, I could put up with anything, really.
Which reminded me of something. “What did my dad say to you?” I sat up straight and turned to face him. “When we were getting out of the limo and Maxxi hugged me, he leaned in and you guys were talking for a minute. What were you saying?”
He held my gaze, his eyes a little hooded, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Couldn’t tell if he was stoned or not. “He was asking me for a meeting.”
“Seriously? Jesus Christ,” I practically growled. “Fuck! I can’t believe he asked you that on our wedding night.”
Zane said nothing, but a gorgeous smile crept across his face.
“What?” I elbowed him sharply.
“Nothing,” he said.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said we’d meet. Day after tomorrow.”
“What, here? In Vegas?”
“Yup.”
I blinked at him. “You’re on a flight at like eight in the morning. No way Dizzy’s up early enough for that.”
“Yeah,” he said, unconcerned.
Slowly it started to penetrate my foggy brain. “You’re really meeting up with him like you said you would?”
He shrugged. “This is my wedding
