Mission forget Sir Fucks-A-Lot is a go!
After we drove around town, polishing off the rest of the champagne, we decided to venture out into the real world.
Since Weston was still shirtless and I was in my wedding dress, we stopped by a local tourist shop to get a change of clothes.
Weston wanted to stick with a beach vibe since it’s the middle of July, but I thought the whole “just married” look could get us a few freebies, so we compromised.
Now, we’re unofficially Mr. & Mrs. Moore, Weston in his black groom cotton tee, and me in a white bride tank top with matching bikini bottoms and a beach skirt. “You ready, Mrs. Moore?” Weston offers his arm, and I take it.
“Why, yes, Mr. Moore.” I giggle, not caring at all that I’m stealing the other brother’s last name.
“Let’s go see if we can score you some tickets.” Weston leads us into the hotel where Magic Mike Live performs daily.
“You would really sit through a show with me?” I wrap my arm tighter through his. Not so much because I’m that tipsy already, but because it’s nice having someone lead the way. And it doesn’t hurt that every time his arm moves, his bicep flexes.
I really shouldn’t be thinking that way, but it wouldn’t be the first time it’s crossed my mind. Weston Moore isn’t just Todd’s brother, he was my first crush—and completely off-limits since he’s four years older than me. When Weston was graduating high school, Todd and I were graduating eighth grade. Any hope of a romance died in the water when he went away to college.
But I landed the next best thing…or so I thought.
“Hell yeah, I would. My bride wants a bachelorette party, I’m going to give her a bachelorette party.” Weston leans down and kisses the top of my head, and I swoon. If he wasn’t holding me up right now, I’d be fainting from the amount of heat this man is possessing.
“Thank you, Weston.” I look up into his emerald eyes, finding them already staring back down at me.
“For what?”
“It’s the middle of July. You’re in Vegas. Hot boy summer should be in full effect right now, and here I am, weighing you down.”
“Hey…” Weston stops in the middle of the hotel and faces me. Cupping my face with his hands, he looks me in the eyes. “You’re not running my summer. I’m choosing to be with you. You got that?”
I nod, unsure of what to say.
“I want to be here, Gracie. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He flashes me his signature smirky smile. “Plus, I liked the movie.”
“Wh-What?” I stutter. “Did you just say you liked the movie? As in Magic Mike? The one with Channing Tatum?”
“Is there any other?” He drops his hands and cocks his head to the side.
“I just find it odd.” I fight back a laugh.
“Well, it’s not.” He raises a brow and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Sports, Scarface, and a naked Olivia Munn. Enough said,” he confesses. “Plus, I may have learned a few moves.”
I smack his arm. “No way!” I jump back and point. “When you went to Cali to model, did you secretly become a stripper?”
“What?” Weston doubles over, laughing. “That’s what you got out of this?”
“It all makes sense now.” I clasp my hand over my mouth and shake my head back and forth.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Weston pries my hand away. “You really think I was a stripper?”
I take a step back and admire his form. “I mean, you’ve got what it takes.”
Weston clears his throat. “Thanks. I’ll take that into consideration if this journalism thing falls through.” He starts to walk again. This time, without me.
“Hey—wait up!” I chase after him. “I was only kidding.” I pick up his arm and throw it over my shoulder.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You weren’t, but I’ll let it slide.”
“You’re right. But in my defense, you have to admit it wasn’t a favorite amongst straight men.”
“Or was it?” He side-eyes me.
“Ohhh…good one.”
We continue to walk up to the entrance of the show where the lines are finally starting to die down.
“Dammit.” Weston comes to a halt.
“What?” I scan the area, wondering what just happened.
“It’s sold out.” He points to the sign hanging above the box office.
“Dang. That sucks.” I dig into the fanny pack we bought and pull out a couple airport bottles of Jose. “I guess there’s only one thing to do then.” I twist off the top and hand him one, then open a bottle for myself.
“You’re a mess.” He clinks his bottle against mine. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
“Fuck Todd!” we both yell before we down the bottles.
“Gah…” I breathe, feeling the burn as it goes down.
“Still doesn’t get easier,” Weston agrees, making a face.
“But it’s getting closer to forgetting.” I take his bottle and toss them both in the nearest trash can.
“I’ve got an idea.” Weston waves me back over. “Follow my lead.” He wraps his arm around my waist and pretends to be talking to me as he walks us to nearest exist.
“Where’re we going?” I talk through my teeth, not wanting anyone to see. “Is this a Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing except with the Moores?”
“Are you drunk?” Weston tries not to laugh.
“No. I mean, yes, but, you know, Brad and Angelina…Mr. and Mrs. Smith—the spy movie?”
“Yes, I know what you’re talking about. What does it have to do with us?”
“You told me to follow you and play along. I thought we were pretending to be secret spies or something.”
“You watch too many movies.” Weston teases. “Shit.” He pivots us over to the side and leans in so close he’s almost nuzzling my neck. “But I like it.” He’s so close, his breath tickled my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
I gulp. “You do?”
He pins me up against the wall near the exit. “I really do.”
Our eyes meet and, in this moment, I feel as if our souls collided. Maybe more like a drunken train wreck, but either way, I can feel my heart thumping out of my chest.
I want him. Nope—scratch that—I need his mouth on mine right now.
“Weston?” His name leaves my lips. I’m not sure why. Maybe I want him to know that I want him. Maybe I need to know this is real. Maybe I’m just fooling myself.
Gah!
“You good?” Weston clears his throat as he waits for me to respond.
“Yeah.” I bite my bottom lip to prevent myself from doing something stupid. Like kiss him.
“Alrighty then.” His emerald eyes move to my mouth.
“Follow me.” He grabs my hand, pulling me with him as we exit through the door with a group of people walking in.
“Whoa!” We stop, checking out the private pool, a couple bars, and a few private cabanas. “What is this?”
“VIP area, baby.” Weston guides me to the bar where we’re instantly greeted by a hot female bartender. She eyes me for a minute, then brings her attention to my husband.
I mean, fake husband.
“What can I get you?”
Weston turns to me. “Sticking with tequila?”
“Sure.” I smile.
“Tequila. Four shots please. The missus here wants to forget.”
“Ah…I’ve got you covered.” She pulls a clear bottle from the top shelf. “If this doesn’t make you forget, I don’t know what will.”
“I like you already.” I smile and wait for her to slide one my way.
“It might make your face go numb, but just know it’s working.”
“I can do numb.” I reach for one and don’t even wait for Weston before I down it. “Fuck Todd!” I shout as I slam the glass on the counter.
“I wouldn’t want to be Todd right now.” The bartender shakes her head, smiling. “But I wouldn’t mind being you.” She nods over to Weston, who just took his first shot.
“He’s mine.” I lean over and grab his hand. “I licked him.”
Hot bartender turns her attention to the other end of the bar.
“What was that about?” Weston toys with his second glass.
“I dunno.” I shrug, picking up mine and down it. “Shit!” I lick my lips before shouting, “Fuck Todd!” for the rest of the bar to hear.
“Fuck Todd!” They follow my lead.
“Yeah!” I point my finger toward them. “My people. They know what’s up.”
“Maybe we should start to head back?” Weston moves in a little closer a little too fast, and I begin to wobble.
“Whoa…you’re like the Flash. Mr. Zoom.” I can’t help but laugh.
“How about we go for a walk?” Weston wraps his arm around mine to steady me.
“Thanks.” I concentrate on walking. One foot in front of the other. “It hit me all at once.”
“At least I’m doing my job,” Weston reminds me. “You’re definitely on your way to forgetting this night.”
“What if I changed my mind? What if I don’t want to forget?”
Weston spins me around, and I bump into his muscular frame. Memories of his naked chest come flooding back, and my cheeks heat.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” He steadies me.
“Yeah.” I brush the hair out of my face. “All good here.”
“Gracie…” Weston stares down at me, “I have something I want…” Weston pauses, looking over my head. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I try to turn around, but Weston has me pinned in place so I won’t fall. “I can’t see.”
“Do you know who I am? I’m Snoop D-O-muthafucking-G.” I hear his voice before I see him.
“Dude…is that?”
Weston nods.
“Gin and Juice for my homies. Sparklingly water for me. You feel me, D-O-double G?”
“Nah…that’s not him,” I whisper. “I would know.”
Weston purses his lips. “And how would you know?”
“That may be Snoop in 2010, but that is not Snoop today. He’s hosting potlucks and stuff. He has grandkids. He drinks…”
“Water?” Weston nods toward the Snoop look-a-like holding a sparkling water in his hand.
“No way!” I tilt my head to the side. “I mean, I guess I can see it.” I watch him walk to the cabana surrounded by a cloud of white smoke.
“We are this close to Snoop Dogg.” Weston holds out his fingers. “I feel like this should be something we should remember. Don’t you?”
“So, now we are remembering?”
“I mean…maybe a few things.” Weston winks as he pulls me over to the roped off area.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” I dig my heels into the sidewalk. “I mean, we kind of snuck in here.”
“Just trust me.” Weston drags me around to the front of the tent and sits down on a chair facing where Snoop is chilling. “Come here.” He pulls me down onto his lap, and I kick myself for not asking for one more shot. One more, and I would have had the courage to turn around, straddle his lap, and see what this man is driving.
“How long are we supposed to sit here?” I lean my head back onto his shoulder.
“Until he notices us.”
“Boo!” I give him two thumbs down.
“You’re crazy.” Weston leans forward, resting his chin on my shoulder. He wraps both arms around my waist, hugging me to him. “This is kind of nice.”
I lift my head and shake away the dizziness. “What? Sitting outside like some sad little puppy begging to go in? Yeah, not my cup of tea.”
“We’ve got to get a pic, Gracie. No one is going to believe this.”
I push myself up off his lap. “Whoa…that wasn’t the best idea.” I sway back and forth.
Weston steadies me.
“We don’t need a pic. Because we…” I wave my finger between the two of us, “believe it. Me and you. That’s all we need.”
Weston eyes me for a moment then stands. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here.”
“Really?” I let him lead the way. “I was that convincing? I mean, I thought I was, but I’m feeling really good, so I wasn’t sure.”
“Yeah, security was coming. We had to get out. I totally wanted a selfie with Snoop. Who wouldn’t?” Weston flashes me a toothy grin and leads us out of a gated area back onto the strip.
“That’s bogus. And here I thought I convinced you we could take on the world.”
“Oh, you definitely did, Gracie.” Weston wraps an arm around my back. “Where is our next adventure going to take us?”
“To find tacos.” I rub my belly. “I’m so freaking hungry. Do you think I’m high?” I pull the bottom of my eyelids down. “Do I look high? I’ve never been high, but I’m hungry and I feel weird. So, I’m high. I think.”
Weston chuckles again, whick he seems to be doing more often now that I’m on the verge of complete blackout. I mean, if he’s laughing, that has to be a good thing. It’s not like he has to follow me around with a puke bucket. I’m a good time. Right? All the signs point to Good Time Gracie.
“So, now you’re talking about yourself in third person?”
“Did I? I thought that was in my head,” I try to argue, but I don’t know why. Should I? Is it worth arguing?
“I’m sure you thought a lot of things were in your head tonight.” Weston winks.
And I freak. I don’t want to say what I’m thinking because what if he’s right and I’m saying shit out loud? What if he knows I want to…stop it! I can’t. I can’t. I can’t think those thoughts. What if he can hear me? What if I’m going crazy?
“I found tacos,” Weston blurts out.
“No way. How?”
“I called Sully and asked him where the closest place was so he knew where to pick us up.”
“But I’m not ready to go home,” I pout.
“We don’t have to go home, but we need to get you fed and rested up.”
“Fine. Feed me and take me to bed.” I freeze.
Weston keeps walking like nothing happened. Maybe I’m making this a bigger deal than it is.
“I meant to say feed me and take me t-to…” I look around and see a flyer for Fred’s Tavern, “Fred’s.”
“Fred’s?” Weston rubs his jaw. “Don’t think that’s happening tonight, Gracie. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say, playing it off as we continue our walk through the late-night crowd. We don’t anything. We just walk hand in hand as he makes sure I get from one place to another, fulfilling every single promise—something I’m definitely not used to.
“Weston, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Ladies and Gentlemen, let the swooning beginning.