The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

I shove my feet into my sneakers and hook my crossbody bag over my head. Efa has made all the arrangements for today and has kept the details a secret, which I hate. Her only direction was to wear comfortable shoes. I just hope there’s not a paddleboat involved. Nothing good ever happens on a paddleboat. I don’t have many lines in the sand, but paddling on water is one of them. Also, I don’t want to get dirty, or be in a situation where I might fall. Apart from that, I’m very relaxed about what we’re doing today.

I turn in front of the full-length mirror and look over my shoulder at my ass in my jeans, then roll my eyes at myself. Why do I care what my ass looks like? Who am I trying to impress? I don’t know how I can even think about a man without wanting to set him on fire at the moment, but somehow, instead of making me panic or question him, Worth makes me feel like I’m the center of the universe. He’s so calming. So solid.

Maybe I’m making something out of nothing, but there seems to be an intensity between us when we’re together, like we’ve known each other from a previous life. He seems to see right through me. He didn’t just remember I’d been to Cincinnati—he instinctively knew something had happened there. It’s like he can read my mind, even though I’ve only known him a matter of hours.

But my mind is all over the place at the moment. I don’t need to complicate life any more than it already is. Worth doesn’t seem complicated, but any more feelings than I’m already feeling are too much.

As I head down to the hotel lobby, my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my bag and “Dad” flashes on the screen.

I feel my body heat three more degrees. It’s like my anger is my own personal electric blanket, set to high.

He knows I know. He’s called three times in the last twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t do that unless it was serious, like I discovered he had a second family the entire time I’ve been alive or something.

I type out a message on the group chat with my brothers, asking if either of them has heard from Dad. Even typing the word “Dad” is difficult, and I’m sure I press the letters into the phone with more force than necessary.

The elevator stops and the doors open at floor twelve. Worth appears.

Despite being in the desert, his presence is like a cool breeze wafting in from the north. My jaw unlocks and my shoulders drop. I’m not sure why I’m having such a physical reaction to this man. Okay, sure, he’s probably the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but I can’t just think he’s hot. That can’t be it.

“Hey,” he says, the single word pushing everything else out of my brain.

“Hey,” I say, inexplicably feeling like an idiot. “Are you… prepared?” I ask. And god, I hope it’s not paintballing.

“Always,” he replies.

“Do you know what we’re doing today? It’s not paintballing, is it?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “Not a clue.”

I sigh and slot my phone back into my bag.

The elevator doors open onto the lobby. Jules, Leo, Bennett, and Efa are already there, waiting for us.

We’re the third couple.

A frisson of something snakes down my spine and I glance at Worth, who’s checking his watch.

“I love that we’re all so punctual,” Jules says. “And this is actually perfect. You two can be a team.”

Efa tugs at her shirt and whispers something into Jules’ ear. Jules replies under her breath.

More secrets. I feel the rage rise in my stomach, and I have to turn away. What the hell are they talking about?

“You okay?” Worth asks from beside me.

I pull in a deep breath and take in the aroma of leather and pine. Apparently this is Worth’s signature scent. I’m basically sniffing Worth. But it works to allay my growing anger, and I shrug off whatever’s going on with Jules and Efa. I pull my face into a smile. “Teammates!” I say.

At least I’m not being paired with Fisher. That could be awkward. It’s not that he’s not a great guy—he’s been nothing but charming to me. But he’s… not my type. Then again, no one’s my type at the moment.

Worth lifts his fist to offer me a fist bump and I can’t help but grin. He’s an unlikely fist bumper, but I press my knuckles to his. He’s so dry, so deadpan, that my grin turns into a laugh.

“Teammates,” he says.

Fisher and Jack arrive. Leo gets a call to say Byron will be late because he’s on the phone to Acapulco.

“But this is better because we’re all teams of two,” Jules says. “It’s fairer this way.”

“Fairer for what?” I mutter under my breath.

Worth puts his hand on my back. It’s just a touch, but it’s like he’s got a magic wand. I don’t know if it’s what he intended, but the gesture makes me feel like I have someone in my corner. And I haven’t felt that since I found out about my dad. I never felt I needed that until I found out about my dad.

“So, are you ready for some fun?” Efa says. “You know the one thing we don’t have for this wedding tomorrow? Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Your mission—and you will choose to accept it—is to find the most innovative, creative things to satisfy the brief!” Efa’s grinning at us like she just invented a cure for world hunger. I have to fight the urge to eyeroll, which instantly makes me feel horrible. Why can’t I just be happy—push away the lies my dad told me for my entire life?

“We can find a bar if you prefer?” Worth says quietly as Efa hands out written instructions for our quest.

“Jules and Leo, you get new, Bennett and I are going to take old, Sophia and Worth, you take borrowed, Fisher and Jack, you can have blue.”

I look up at Worth and his cool, blue, intent gaze. “Maybe we can work in a bar stop. Or maybe our thing can be a bottle of tequila, which we sample to make sure it tastes okay, and let Jules and Leo borrow a shot each from the bottle.”

Worth smiles, but there’s a question in his eyes.

“You haven’t told them the prize,” Bennett says.

“Oh yeah! The prize is, you get Bennett as your personal butler for the day.” Efa actually jumps in excitement.

“What happens if you and Bennett win?” Fisher asks.

Efa gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Then I get to have Bennett as my personal butler for the day.”

Worth chuckles beside me. It’s catching and I find myself smiling. “We have to win this,” he says to me under his breath.

“Who’s judging?” I ask. Obviously, I need to understand my audience.

“Byron,” Efa says. “Or if he finishes what he’s doing and actually joins a team, we’ll ask a hotel employee to judge so it’s fair. We have four hours,” Efa says. “Oh, and final thing. You have a spend cap of one hundred dollars.”

Everyone groans.

“That makes it almost impossible,” Bennett complains.

“No, it means you have to use your brain and creativity, rather than just your wallet,” Efa retorts. She glances at her watch. “You’re just eating into precious time. See you all back here at one thirty for lunch.”

“Plenty of time for tequila.” Worth grabs my hand and pulls me toward the exit.

We climb into a waiting SUV, and I don’t even have time to ask whether this car was actually meant for us.

“Borrowed?” I say. “Isn’t that the hardest one?”

“Everyone else is probably thinking the same thing. We’ll figure something out.”

“I suppose the first thing we should ask is whether either of us has anything on hand that would qualify,” I say. “And for the record, I don’t.”

“Let’s just drive the length of the Strip,” Worth says to the driver. And then to me, “We might get inspiration on the way.”

Worth’s knee nudges against my thigh. I wonder if it’s normal to feel that touch across my entire body. The guy exudes a certain quiet confidence I don’t think I’ve come across before. I suppose Leo has it a little. Although he’s much more gregarious—more the life and soul of the party. Worth is more reserved, which somehow makes him sexier. His calmness makes me calm. Like nothing is going to faze him, no matter how difficult life gets. I wonder how he’d react if he found out his father had a second family he knew nothing about.

My phone beeps, alerting me to a message from Oliver about Thanksgiving. How can he even think about Thanksgiving right now? I click into the message.

Do you think we’re still celebrating Dad’s sixtieth birthday on Thanksgiving?

What’s he talking about? He can’t think we’re all going to sit around the kitchen table like one big happy family.

Noah replies.

I hope so.

I feel the furnace inside me stoked. How are my brothers casually texting about being with Dad on Thanksgiving like it’s nothing?

Thanksgiving has always been a holiday we go all-out for, because it’s Dad’s birthday around the same time. Dad usually made it home and would cook. Some of our happiest memories with him were from Thanksgivings over the years. I can’t think about any of it now. Not my brothers, not Thanksgiving, not the fact that my dad is a liar. It’s too much, I feel like I’m going to combust if I give any of it more attention. I want to push it all down and make it disappear.

I shove my phone into my pocket, sigh, and glance out the window at the passing cars and chaos. “This is my first time in Vegas.”

“It is?” he asks. “Huh. I wouldn’t have thought that.”

We’re basically strangers, but I like the idea that he’s thought about me enough to form any kind of judgment.

“But not for you?” I ask.

“You know. Guys love their weekends in Vegas.” He sounds unenthusiastic, and I like him more for it.

“You’re not one of them?” I ask.

“Not really my scene.”

Most guys in their early thirties would consider Vegas an adult playground. The gambling, the drinks, the women. “You don’t like to party?”

“I like to spend my time with people who I like equally drunk or sober.”

I smile. “Yeah, it’s easy to like people after a few shots.”

“I prefer New York,” he says. “Or the Catskills.”

“A closet lumberjack?” I ask. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

A small smile curls at the edge of his mouth. “I just like the peace.”

“Which is why you live in New York,” I say.

“I think it’s okay to like both. New York isn’t everything and neither is the Catskills, but together, they come pretty close.”

My stomach churns. Is that what my dad thought? That my mom, brothers, and me weren’t everything, so he had to go out and get more—so he could have everything?

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “Fine. We just need to find something borrowed.”

Worth leans forward to ask the driver something. “Can you do a tour of the main attractions? The Welcome to Vegas sign, the fountains at the Bellagio, the chapel where Britney got married, that kind of thing?”

I can’t help but dissolve into giggles. “The chapel where Britney got married? That’s what you want to see?”

“You said you’d never been to Vegas. I thought you’d want a thorough introduction.”

“Bellagio is just here,” the driver says, pulling into the drive.

“If we had a pretty perfume bottle, we could borrow some water from the fountains,” I suggest. “That might work.”

“It’s an idea,” Worth says, though his frown tells me it’s not the best idea he’s ever heard. He grabs an unopened bottle of water from the side pocket of the car and slides out of his seat. He turns and offers me his hand to help me out of this car.

“One more than you’ve had.” I take a step down, but instead of releasing my hand, Worth links his fingers through mine.

Like we’re a couple or something.

A crackle of desire courses through me, and I wonder if he feels it too.

“That’s true,” he says, leading me along a pathway like he knows exactly where he’s going. “So let’s collect some water, and if that’s all we’re left with when our time’s up, we don’t have to come back.” Rather than let go of my hand, he unscrews the lid of the water bottle with his teeth and empties the water out on the path.

“So a tour of Vegas and a treasure hunt at the same time?”

“I’m all about multitasking,” he says. I know he’s making a joke, but someone should tell his face.

Is it weird that I find it low-key adorable how dry he is?

People seem to appear from everywhere and we’re all headed in the same direction. Worth clearly knows where he’s going and squeezes my hand in reassurance. Despite the fact that it would be easier if he let my hand go, he doesn’t.

The fountains come into view, except they’re not… fountaining. Worth walks up to someone in security and they have a conversation. Music has started playing and I can’t make out what they’re saying.

“This way,” Worth says, leading us to the front of the fountains.

“Are we allowed here?”

Worth doesn’t respond, but the fountain display starts as we get to the edge of the pool.

“I bet you’ve done this a million times if you’ve been to Vegas a lot?” I ask.

“I’ve never done this,” he says. “I’ve passed by the fountains, and I once had a room opposite with a view of them, but I’ve never stood and watched them like this.”

He must feel me staring up at him, because he glances down. “It’s a first,” he says, and then lets out a small huff of laughter.

“What?” I ask, half shouting because the music has been ratcheted up. “What’s so funny?”

He glances back at me and down at our hands, and then back at the fountains as they start to spurt. “Just having a lot of firsts at the moment—” He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

I get the feeling it isn’t the music that has stopped him explaining what he means.

We watch, hand in hand, our heads tipped back as the water climbs hundreds of feet in the air.

“Is this weird?” Worth calls out.

“What?” I call back, even though we’re close enough to still be holding hands. Is it weird that it’s not weirder that this man I hardly know is holding my hand? Is it weird that I feel oddly comfortable with him, like I’ve known him for years rather a handful of hours? Is it weird to be in Vegas at my best friend’s wedding when she hated the man she’s marrying for years before falling in love with him for the second time?

Yes, all of it is very weird.

“That we’re watching water being propelled into the air to music?” Worth asks as he frowns.

I laugh. “Well, now that you put it like that, maybe it is a little weird.”

“Do you like it?” he asks, his attention still on the display in front of us.

“I’m not sure.”

He chuckles. “Me neither. I don’t not like it.” Then he turns and looks at me, and my nipples pebble beneath my bra like I’m naked and his gaze is trailing across my bare skin.

“I like being here with you,” he says.

It’s not what I was expecting him to say. It’s so direct. To the point. And I have no doubt he’s telling the truth—like he’s totally transparent and I can see right through him and can tell he’s not keeping anything from me and doesn’t want to. On a laundry list of sexy things about Worth, that might be number one.

“Samesies,” I reply, then close my eyes, trying to wish away the past five seconds. Samesies? Am I eleven?

He lets out that half-laugh again at my clumsy response, and I open my eyes. Once again, Worth has surprised me. I half expected him to be offended. But I get the feeling Worth isn’t telling me anything to get a specific response. He’s saying it because it’s true and he doesn’t want me not to know. His shoulders are broad in more ways than one.

I feel his fingers curled around mine. The heat of them. The strength of them. The way they feel so protective. They feel like truth. Right about now, that’s exactly what I need.

We stay watching the fountains for a few more minutes. The spray occasionally mists my face, the cooling sensation of the water a balm against my heated skin.

“We should get this water,” he says.

I agree, but I don’t know how. There’s a barrier between us and the pool where the fountains are.

“You stay here,” he says. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Worth!” I say. “Don’t⁠—”

But before I can finish, he’s off. He slips effortlessly through the crowd to the other side, where the balustrading ends. Then he jumps over a barrier like he’s some kind of Olympic athlete, and extends his arm, plunging the empty water bottle into the pool.

I scan the crowds, looking for security closing in on him. There’s a security guard coming up behind him, but Worth has got what he needs. He screws the lid on the now-full bottle before making his way back across the barrier. The security guard meets him on the other side. The two of them have an exchange of words that ends in a handshake.

Worth looks up and meets my eyes as he stalks back to me.

“You got caught,” I say.

He shrugs. “What are they going to do, arrest me for stealing water?”

“Borrowing,” I correct him.

“Exactly. We can bring it back the day after the wedding.”

When we get back in the car, he hands me the bottle and I tuck it into the pocket in the back of the front seat. It’s not a great option for borrowed, but at least we have something.

“Let’s do the Vegas sign now,” he says to the driver. “We need to up our game.”

When we reach the sign, we hop out of the car.

“I’ll take your picture,” he says, pulling out his phone. I adjust the collar of my shirt, hoping it’s straight, then hold my arms outstretched. He pushes his Wayfarers to the top of his head and holds up his phone.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says as he takes the pictures.

My stomach rises and falls and I don’t know what to say. But again, he’s not looking for a response.

“Now your turn,” I say as he lowers his sunglasses.

He shakes his head, slings his arm around my shoulders, turns us, and holds out the phone for a selfie.

I stare at the still image he’s just captured.

We both look so happy. He looks so gorgeous, anyone would think he was a movie star or a model or something.

“Come on,” he says, scooping up my hand and pulling me into the car. “Next stop.”

“Do you think we need to get someone to loan us something?” I ask as we pull back out onto the street. “Or do we buy something and loan it to Leo and Jules?”

“Either would qualify. What could we buy for a hundred dollars?” he asks.

“What about the necklace you gave us,” I suggest. “I could loan her that. It’s the most expensive thing I own. But she does already have one exactly the same.”

A smile curls around his lips at my lame suggestion, and I have the urge to press my fingers against his mouth, feeling the way it moves under my touch.

“Is she looking for expensive or thoughtful?” he asks. “Meaningful?”

“I don’t have anything with me.” I have a trinket box at home with things inside that might have qualified: a shell I found by the lake the first summer we went to the cabin, a small ceramic duck I took into all my exams in college, and the silver dollar coin my dad gave me on my sixth birthday. He told me it was magic. For years, when Dad went away, I’d take the silver dollar everywhere I went. I’d turn it over and over in my hand, thinking of my father working hard for us, sacrificing his time with us so we could have the life he wanted for us.

But it was all a lie.

That dollar has the Statue of Liberty on one side, her hand thrust in the air. On the other side is etched a boat with the words, “The Love of Liberty Brought us Here.”

That coin wasn’t magic—it was an excuse. It was a symbol of his worship of liberty and freedom. But he didn’t want freedom from governmental tyranny. He wanted to live free from responsibility and loyalty. He twisted what should be great to fit his selfishness and cowardice.

“You okay?” Worth slips his hand over mine, and I nod.

“Did you get bad news in Cincinnati?”

His question takes the breath from my lungs, and I snap my head around to look at him sitting across from me in the car. The colors and sounds of the Strip are shut out, and all I can think about is how Worth is inside my head.

“I don’t—I can’t—I have—yes,” I say finally. “I got some bad news. But I don’t want Jules to know,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to take the attention away from her and Leo’s weekend.”

“So you haven’t told her. And she won’t hear it from me.”

I nod, grateful for his promise. “Thank you. I am… processing things and…” I think about how Worth has been so honest with me. Should I tell him? “Being with you is…” He waits for me to finish the sentence, but I’m not sure how it ends. “You’re like the fountain. Pretty to look at, even though I’m not quite sure I should be finding you pretty and cooling. An ice pack for my bruise.” I realize I’m acknowledging the attraction between us, but it’s hard not to between his hand-holding and his focused attention. The way he called me beautiful.

“A distraction maybe,” he says, and there’s no tinge of bitterness to his words.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” If I hadn’t been to Cincinnati last weekend, I think I may have been more flirtatious with Worth. I have no doubt he finds me attractive, and usually, that’s the only cue I need to be into someone. But I’m holding back this time.

Maybe I’m thinking too much about this.

The driver points out the big hotels as we travel down the Strip. Worth and I sit in comfortable silence. We travel into downtown Vegas, which feels more like a normal town, but a little flashier.

“On your left is the Clark County Marriage License Bureau,” the driver says. “Open until midnight for those couples who like to do things last minute.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get married,” I say.

“Really?” he asks. “Why?”

I sigh. “Because I’ve always thought my parents had a perfect marriage and we had a perfect childhood, and now my parents are getting divorced because my dad’s been a complete selfish idiot.” My voice cracks as I finish my sentence.

Worth pulls a tissue from the box in the door and hands it to me.

“I don’t want to be sad. I want to be mad.”

“There’s room for both,” he says.

I like the way he doesn’t ask any questions. He doesn’t sound horrified or outraged. He’s allowing me to have all the space I need.

I lay my head on his shoulder and he pulls me closer.