Broken Series (23 page)

Sixteen

Baker

Hearing the words I longed to be spoken from her lips surprised me, but even further, filled me with a sense of completion. It felt like I’d waited so long to hear her tell me she loved me, and then when she did, it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be. From the look of surprise on her face after she said it, I guessed she hadn’t intended to say the words aloud.

That was fine with me, though. She did say them, and I wasn’t about to let her forget.
I knew I never would. As much as I loved her, it was a little more difficult to figure out why she loved me. I was just an average guy who fell in love with the perfect girl next door. And logic screamed at me that she wasn’t perfect. No one was. But Rainey was about as perfect
for me
as a woman could get. She tolerated, maybe even understood, my deranged sense of humor, had a laid-back attitude toward life, and was one hell of a girlfriend.

She’s dying.
I shook the negativity away, knowing that dwelling on the fact that she was going to die would only drown my happiness. I wanted to just enjoy our time together. However long we had left.

We walked out of the hotel and out onto the strip. Her eyes lit up like a little kid when she realized all the lights were starting to glow. The brightness was nearly blinding, but we managed. I clasped her hand in mine with no intention of letting go. No matter where this night led, she was going to stay by my side all night. I planned to soak up every moment with her.

“So what’s for dinner?” she asked as we walked along the sidewalk.

“The Bellagio,” I answered.

“Oh! Do I get to order the most expensive thing on the menu? You know, since this is like a real date?”

I looked at her sternly. “I expect you to eat your weight in food.”

She burst into laughter. “I might just do that. I’m famished from all the activity this afternoon.”

I just grinned at her, knowing we would be repeating the events of this afternoon again when we got back to the hotel. But food was definitely on the list things that had to happen first. And I’d heard nothing but good things about the Bellagio. Plus, the casino was right there, so we could gamble a little.

My phone buzzed in the pocket of my designer trousers and I groaned. I wanted nothing more than to ignore it, but if it was Mallory, I knew I had to answer.

“Sorry,” I told Rainey as I slid my thumb across the screen of my cell. “Hello?”

“Dude! Where the hell are you?” Luke’s voice yelled in my ear. I glanced at the screen again. He was calling from Mallory’s cell. I would have to kill her.

“What do you want?” I barked.

“Where are you?” he asked again.

“Vegas.”

“What are you doing in Vegas?”

“What are you, my mother? I’m here with Rainey and we’re on a date, so unless you have something important to say, I am going to hang up in five seconds. Five…”

“Umm, Mallory said you were going to bring Rainey home – are you?” he tried.

“…Four…”

“Did you really sell the bar?”

“…Three…”

“Are you going to move to LA permanently?”

“…Two…”

“Are you in love with her? Mal said you were but I don’t believe it-”

“…One… Bye, Luke.”

“Wait! Will you answer my damn question?” he screamed in my ear. I had to pull the phone away from my head.

“Not unless she wants to. Yes. If I have to. And abso-fucking-lutely I love her. Goodbye, Luke.” I pressed the end button, effectively cutting off whatever he might have said in reply.

I had unknowingly stopped on the sidewalk and Rainey stared up at me with amusement in her eyes. “What’s so funny?”

Her smile widened. “Well, the phrase ‘abso-fucking-lutely I love her’ is a pretty awesome thing to hear. I can assume you’re talking about me…” She wanted to hear the words again, so I decided to torment her.

“Actually, I was referring to my
other
girlfriend,” I teased.

She slapped my shoulder with her free hand. I was still clinging tightly to her left hand. I looked down at our entwined fingers and raised them to my lips, gently kissing each of her fingers.

“You, Rainey. Only you,” I said in between kisses. She blushed at my words and tried to escape my grasp, but I wouldn’t let her. Instead, I laughed, tucked my cell back into my pocket after switching it to silent, and then tugged her along the sidewalk toward our dinner date.
Rainey giggled while her face turned red, but she followed along.

Dinner was more than filling, and we both ordered more food than we could possibly consume. She still had room for dessert, a feat that I admired her for. I hated when women suppressed their appetites to appeal to a man. Rainey made good on her promise to eat her weight in food. Then she devoured most of a fudge brownie sundae, hardly leaving me any at all.

“You ready to do some betting?” I asked once the last plate was cleared and the waiter left our bill on the table. I didn’t want to look at it, but I was pleasantly surprised that it was under two hundred bucks. I thought for sure we would have spent more than that easily. I pulled three hundreds out of my wallet and left them on the table.

I helped Rainey out of her chair as she stared at the bills. “When did you become Daddy Warbucks?” she asked incredulously.

“I have to keep my money situation under wraps. Otherwise, the ladies would be all over me.” I winked at her.

“I can imagine. Having a sugar-daddy at my disposal is pretty interesting.”

We laughed and made our way to the lines of tables. “So what’s your game?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never really gambled before,” she admitted.

“Okay, how about we start with some slots, then?”

She nodded and we wandered around for several minutes before a slot machine caught her eye. She started to open the small clutch purse she carried with her but I stopped her. I shoved a hundred dollar bill into the machine before she could protest and sat next to her, throwing a twenty into the machine. I wasn’t too interested in gambling, but watching her was just as satisfying.

Her eyes lit up as I explained how to choose the number of lines and bet per line. We went through a couple bucks as she figured it out, and once she did, she was off, bouncing up and down on the seat every time she won the slightest amount. I set my machine to the minimum bet and then hit the rebet button every once in a while, just so I could occupy the machine. When a
waitress came by and asked us if we wanted a drink, I requested a whiskey and cola.

I didn’t want to get drunk, knowing as I did that Rainey couldn’t drink, but a little buzz would loosen me up. Especially if we hit any of the clubs on the strip and she wanted me to dance. I knew better than to think that my dance moves rivaled Channing Tatum, but I could throw down, if I needed to. The problem was, I lacked the courage, and no one had seen me dance.
Ever.

But if Rainey asked, I would agree, no matter what my reservations were. For the time being, though, she was content to spend money in the slots. After an hour of play, she lost quite a bit but then managed to get herself ahead of the game. When she had two hundred bucks sitting in the machine, I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Let’s try one of the table games,” I suggested.

“Okay,” she replied, breathless in her excitement. “Which game?”

“Blackjack is the easiest to learn,” I informed her. I showed her which button to press to cash out and she took her printed ticket to the cash machine. I followed closely behind her, enjoying the view.

“Stop staring at my ass,” she reprimanded me once she had a wad of twenties in her hand and we were walking toward the game tables.

“I can’t help it,” I admitted. “It’s amazing.”

She laughed and we found two seats open at a blackjack table near the edge of the room. We sat and she traded her money in for chips. She bet like someone who had no idea what she was doing, and within minutes, she was broke.

“Damn!” she groaned, getting up from the table. “How do people count cards? I could barely keep track of the ones he dealt to me, let alone everyone else’s.”

I followed her, carrying my drink in my left hand and dropping my free hand to the small of her back. I guided her through the now much more crowded space and she turned to talk to me, her voice an octave louder than normal so I could hear her.

“Where to next?”

“Anywhere you want,” I promised her.

She seemed to think about it for a moment and then an evil smile crossed her lips and I knew I was in trouble. When she leaned close to my ear to tell me her suggestion, I swallowed hard.

“Let’s go to a nightclub!”

Seventeen

Rainey

The first club was filled with about a million sweaty people and we quickly ducked out, moving on to another. The second one had more of a laid-back feel, definitely more my style. The music was loud, though, and I pulled a hesitant Baker onto the floor. He moved gracefully, but without much enthusiasm. He complained over and over that he was hot.

“Go give your jacket to the coat check!” I suggested over and over.

After about the fourth time, he finally sighed in defeat and left me on the dance floor, pulling off his jacket as he went. I danced by myself for all of ninety seconds, and thankfully, no one tried to join me. When Baker returned, he’d rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie, and looked extra sexy. Some pop culture hit blared through the speakers and pounded out a rhythm and I pulled Baker to me by his tie as he approached. I figured I would just dance around him a little, maybe get him fired up, and then we would leave and return the hotel.

What I wasn’t prepared for was Baker. His dance moves looked like they were taken straight out of a recent male stripper movie. His body matched the beat perfectly and he rubbed himself against me in perfect unison with the thumping bass. I turned and ground my ass into him a bit and he replied in kind. I could feel his hardness pressed against me, and it was more than exciting. His hands gripped my hips to keep our bodies together and I threw my hands up in an attempt to be sexy.

I should never try to be sexy.

I smacked him in the face with my left hand then when I turned around to apologize, the heel of my traitorous shoes dug into his foot and he howled in pain.

“Shit! Sorry!” I yelped, truly mortified.

When he lifted his foot to his hands and jumped around for a full minute, hopping on one foot while he held the other, I lost it. Laughter bubbled up out of my throat and I could do nothing to contain it. He glared at me, but I was helpless. He made his way to an empty barstool
and I followed him, both hands covering my mouth to hide my giggles.

Even after he sat, he held on to his foot with both hands and I stood nearby, helpless to do anything but laugh at him.

“It’s not funny,” he growled.

“Oh, are you super grumpy now? Will you be able to make it back to the hotel?”

“Not sure,” he mumbled as he pulled off his shoe and sock to examine his foot.

A bright red welt was already forming on his skin and I immediately felt guilty. I hadn’t thought it was that bad, but seeing it was a reality check.

“I’ll go call us a cab,” I said with a pat on his back. I turned away but he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his lap.

He growled again, a trait I was beginning to find endearing, then put his lips on mine. Passion roared between us, in the midst of the crowd around us, and by the time he lifted his head, my hands were molded to his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

“Go get a cab,” he ordered.

I almost reminded him that I had been about to do just that, but instead, I stood up, straightened my dress, and left him there.

Outside the club, there were people everywhere. It was after ten and the strip was full. Getting a cab was not going to be an easy task. I went to the curb and put my hand out, just like I’d watched people do on TV for years. Not a single cab stopped. I sighed.

When I felt heavy hands on my hips, my first thought was that Baker had limped his way outside to help me hail a cab. No such luck.

“Hey, baby, how much for the whole night?” a deep voice boomed behind me. I turned around and looked up at the man before me.

He wasn’t gross, per se, but he was definitely dirty. His hands on my waist were covered in filth and he was missing one of his front teeth.

“You couldn’t afford me,” I said and immediately regretted it. I wasn’t in Maine, where an advance at the bar could be pushed away and there were plenty of good Samaritans to help. People here in Vegas probably wouldn’t help unless I screamed rape. And even then it was iffy. I tried to push his hands away from me, but his grip tightened and I was stuck in his grasp.

“You whores are all the same. Think you’re too good for a paying customer. Maybe I’ll just take the goods for free,” he threatened.

Just as panic set in, a hand landed on the creep’s shoulder and he whirled around to face his attacker, my protector. Baker’s eyes were engulfed in silver flames and his face was flushed in anger. He swung a punch at the guy’s face and then lifted him up by his neck. No small feat, considering the guy was beefy and at least an inch taller than Baker.

“You touch her again and you’re dead,” he promised before he tossed the guy to the ground. His body hit the pavement with a loud thud and he groaned. Baker met my eyes. “You okay?”

I nodded, still a little shaky from the encounter.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested and I agreed. He tossed an arm across my shoulders and we walked several yards away from the scene. He managed to get us a cab and we climbed in the backseat, where I got as close to him as I could.

“What were you thinking?” he accused as soon as he was comfortable.

“Me? You’re the one who punched that guy!”

“I’d do it again if anyone dared to touch you,” he vowed.

“You were just jealous,” I joked, desperate to lighten the mood.

Baker turned his unusually serious gray eyes toward me. “It wasn’t jealousy, Rain. It was fear. If I hadn’t come out when I did, what would have happened to you?”

It was a question I didn’t want to answer. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

And I knew he was right, but I couldn’t help but look at my outfit and wonder if my attempt to push Baker over the edge was actually a little incriminating. I looked like a high-priced call-girl, no matter what Baker thought. I sighed and hung my head, shamed.

Baker shucked a finger under my chin and forced me to look up at him. “I love you.”

I never tired of hearing him say it. “I love you, too.”

He smiled and kissed me gingerly. He entwined his fingers with mine and I rested my head on his shoulder, utterly content.

When the cab stopped in front of the hotel, Baker paid the driver and then hobbled out and into the lobby. Just before he reached the glass doors, he whirled around to face me.

“You know what I want?” he asked, his eyes back to his playful self.

I thought about it for a second. “Tacos?”

“Hmm, not a bad suggestion. But what I
really
want…is to marry you.”

I stared at him, unmoving, shocked, and completely frozen in place.
I searched his eyes, desperate to find a hint of amusement in them. I found none.

“Are you serious?”

“This wasn’t how I wanted to do it. I have a ring,” he mumbled.
A ring!?
“And I planned to do it tomorrow morning at breakfast. But I love you, Rainey. No woman will ever compare. You’re it for me.”

I gulped.

“I know it’s sudden and probably just a tad bit crazy,” he limped forward to take my hands, “but I want you to be my wife.” He awkwardly knelt down on one knee and pulled a little black box out his pocket. He flipped open the box and the diamonds glinted in the bright lights. “Marry me.”

It wasn’t a question so much as a demand. Chris Baker wanted to marry me. Even though I was dying. Even though he would have to live his life as a widower. Even though –

“Stop thinking, Rainey and just
feel.
What does your heart tell you?”

“Yes,” I said before I could think too much.

He slipped the silver band onto the ring finger of my left hand, kissed it, and then stood, gathering me in his arms. He spun around, his damaged foot forgotten as we both laughed with glee. I was giddy.

“I love you,” he finally whispered into my ear when we came to a stop.

“I love you,” I replied as I looked around. People around us were snapping photos on their camera phones and I realized that Baker would want to remember this moment.

I asked a beautiful Asian couple to take a few pictures for us, showing them how to use my cell phone camera. Baker and I posed ridiculously for at least a dozen photos. I figured we were bound to like one of them. I took my phone back from them eventually and thanked them profusely. They congratulated us.

We walked hand-in-hand to the elevator to our room. Once the doors slid closed, Baker pressed me up against the wall, pressing kisses down my throat. I moaned in delight and then groaned in frustration when the doors opened much too quickly on our floor.

We entered the suite and I half-expected him to jump me as soon as we were behind the closed door. Instead, he poured two glasses of champagne.

“Champagne upsets my stomach,” I confessed as I took the goblet from him.

“I guess it’s a good thing its sparkling grape juice, then.” He kissed my forehead and we sat on the couch, snuggled together. “A toast,” he lifted his glass, “to the most beautiful woman in Vegas agreeing to marry me.”

I clinked my glass against his and took a sip, the bubbles tickling my lips. Doubt settled in at that exactly moment and I thought about the repercussions of my actions. Whether he accepted it or not, I was going to die. That meant he was going to come to terms with my illness, even though we agreed not to discuss it.

“We need to talk.” I set my glass down on the coffee table and tucked my feet beneath me. Baker’s arm was resting along the back of the couch and his fingers played absently with my hair.

He sighed. “Already? Can’t we just enjoy it?”

“I know you hate to be serious, but this is important. I can’t marry you unless you promise me something.”

“An ultimatum already?” He set his glass next to mine. “Lay it on me.”

“After I’m gone,” I started. Baker made a movement to interrupt me but I stopped him. “No, let me finish. After I’m gone, and you’ve had time to grieve, I want you to promise me that you’ll find someone who makes you happy.”

“What? That’s insane,” he argued.

“I know it seems weird, but, Baker, you were made to live a long, happy life with someone, not to be a widower your whole life. I understand why you want to marry me – believe me, I get it. And I love you for it. But if we’re going to do this, then I want to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you will move on someday and allow yourself to love someone else. I need to know that you’ll be happy.”

“I am happy,” he started.

“You know what I mean. You deserve to be in a committed, long-term relationship where you are loved every day for the rest of your life.”

“I have you, Rainey.”

“Not for long. My time is limited. And although I will love you forever, the truth is, I won’t be around forever. I won’t marry you unless you promise me,” I confirmed, sticking to my convictions about it.

He seemed to realize that I didn’t want the easy answer. He sat back on the couch, pulled his arm away from me, and looked at his hands. He fiddled his fingers together for a moment before he answered me. When his eyes came back to mine, they were misty.

“I’ve never felt this way before. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love at all. And if this is your requirement for marriage, then I can’t do anything but agree. I don’t like it. But I’ll do it. After you’re…” he struggled to find the right word. “…
gone
, I will, at some point in my life, move on and love someone else. But let’s get one thing straight.” His eyes bore into mine. “I will
never, ever
stop loving you. As long as there’s air in my lungs, you will forever be in my heart, the completion of my soul.”

I gave him a little smile through the tears that had already formed. “I love you.”

His reply was to pull me in for a kiss.