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it’s fucking with my mind.

I clear my throat, fighting the urge to inhale her scent right in front of her, before glancing once more at her perched in her seat, her blonde hair down in waves below her shoulders, and her soft pink lips pursed as she stares at her computer screen.

“What are you concentrating so hard on?” I ask, breaking the silence as her eyes pop up to mine.

“Another batch of emails to a few design firms. You’d think that living in L.A. would make breaking into this industry easier since there are plenty of people with money to throw around to have their homes designed.”

I grin at her assessment. “You’re right, but those types of jobs don’t open up often, you know, especially to people who are lacking experience.”

“It’s such an oxymoron. They want to hire people with experience and a bountiful portfolio, but how the hell am I supposed to gain experience if I can’t get work?” She throws her hands up in frustration just as my phone vibrates with a text.

I shoot off a reply to my assistant, Clay, and then focus back on her. “Welcome to the big leagues, Wave.”

She shakes her head and continues to type as my mind starts reeling with how I could help her. I could call the firm I hired my designer from, see if they have any openings, but I’m not sure Waverly would appreciate that. She’s stressed numerous times now how she wants to make it on her own. Giving her my help seems like it would just backfire in my face.

And as much as I love driving her mad, the last thing I need to do is give her a reason to resent me even more than she already does.

Thirty minutes later, we’re landing in Las Vegas and walking down the stairs of the plane to the private car my assistant also booked for us. Clay, my very capable and very gay assistant, is the best employee I happened upon. The man anticipates what I need from him before I can tell him. He’s made my life and job so much easier over the past three years, and when I told him I got married, he about fainted.

Me too, buddy. Me too.

“Where are we headed to first?” Waverly asks as we situate ourselves in the back seat as the driver takes off for the strip.

“I have a meeting with the owner of the club in The Luxor. There is a new contract with him I need us to sign. And then we’ll make our way over to a new spot that hasn’t even opened yet. I signed a deal with this guy last year in August, and construction has been underway. The club is going to be called Midnight Cowboy and will be centrally located along the strip. The new-age western theme will offer something unique to patrons visiting Las Vegas.”

Waverly’s eyebrows rise as I turn to take in her reaction. “Interesting. I’d love to see how you pull that off.”

“Well, that’s what the designer is for.” I wink in her direction as we cruise along the road.

We arrive at the Luxor a few minutes early before my meeting, so I usher Waverly inside where we scour the casino for breakfast. Neither of us was hungry on the flight, but by the way her stomach growled in the car, my sole focus right now is feeding her.

I walk beside her but feel the strangest need to place my hand on the small of her back, as if claiming her to the room. And to anyone watching, they wouldn’t think anything of it. It would be a normal move for a husband to lay claim to his wife.

But Waverly isn’t my wife in the normal sense, so I debate the move, waiting too long until we arrive at a Starbucks and order coffees and pastries.

As we pick up our order, my phone rings. I step away to answer the call of the assistant to Mr. Ingles, the man I’m meeting at the top of the hour, letting me know he’s ready for me. When I disconnect the call, I see Waverly gingerly sipping her coffee as she stands before me.

“I have to go.”

“I figured. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” She takes a small bite of her muffin and smiles as she chews.

“This shouldn’t take long, just a formality more than anything. But my father insists we make face-to-face contact with clients when we sign contracts. And this guy can talk a lot.”

“I’ll be fine, Hayes. I’ll just walk around down here. Explore. I can’t get into too much trouble unless I decide to down some shots of tequila.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” I linger in front of her, not sure why I’m not ready to leave her just yet. It’s odd having company when I’m used to being all alone and having her near provides a comfort that is all too unfamiliar but satisfying nonetheless. In that moment, I surprise myself by wishing I could bring her with me.

“Go, before you’re late.” She waves me off and then turns to walk away.

“Call me if you need anything,” I say as she gets farther away.

“Yes, babe.” She winks and then sashays down the row of shops as I linger on her ass in her dress.

“Christ,” I mumble as I turn and head toward the side of the hotel where I know I’ll be meeting Mr. Ingles. The image of Waverly walking away from me rattles my nerves, but I take a few calming breaths before arriving at the door to my meeting, turning on the charm as only I, Hayes Weston, can do before the man on the other side can see right through me.

* * *

“So, what do you think, Mr. Weston?” Ian, the club owner that has given me 40% ownership in Midnight Cowboy, glances up at me to take in my reaction.

“I think it looks promising. I’m loving the private alcoves for VIP guests and the

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