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About the Author
Samantha Towle is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal best-selling author.
A native of Hull, she lives in East Yorkshire with her husband, their son and daughter, and three large furbabies.
She is the author of contemporary romances (The Storm Series, The Revved Series, The Wardrobe Series, The Gods Series) and stand-alones (Trouble, When I Was Yours, The Ending I Want, Unsuitable, Under Her, River Wild, Dead Pretty, The Two Week Stand, and Sacking the Quarterback, which was written with James Patterson). She has also written paranormal romances (The Bringer and The Alexandra Jones Series). With over a million books sold, her titles have appeared on countless best-seller lists and are currently translated into ten languages.
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Waking Up In Vegas
By Natasha Preston
Vic. Thanks for being the best dickhead a girl could ask for. Love you, Fro.
Author’s Note
I felt the need to write a little note before you begin. Now we all know there are Debbie Downers out there. If you’re not one, EXCELLENT, hop right to the first chapter. I have researched the marriage and annulment process in the US and have made this book as true to real life as the plot will allow. If things are slightly more accelerated than it would actually be, please just go with it! I write in UK English; we don’t have much use for Z’s and we love a double L.
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If your name is actually Debbie and you’re cool, don’t hate. I didn’t make it up. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Wren
“Las. Fucking. Vegas?”
My sister Emma rolls her pale blue eyes. “For the millionth time, Wren, yes.”
Ah! “You’re all going to Vegas for Brody’s twenty-first?” My mouth is open like I’ve just watched Tom Hardy strip. I hope they don’t think they’re going without me.
Emma shares a look with Brody’s sister Felicity.
“Well, a week after his birthday, actually,” Emma says.
“Em, you cannot go without me.”
Felicity raises her dark eyebrow. “It’s not me and Emma you have to convince; it’s your parents. And Brody.”
“I’m eighteen.”
Emma points at me. “Just! And in America you can’t drink or gamble until you’re twenty-one.”
“That’s a dumb rule.”
“Law,” Emma corrects.
“Whatever. I’m still going. I’m sure Vegas has more than bars and casinos. In fact, I know it does. Dad won’t have an issue with me going as long as you and Luke promise to look out for me.” I give her a pleading, toothy smile.
My big brother Luke is more overprotective than my dad.
Emma deadpans. “Yes, because Luke and I want to babysit our little sister while on holiday.”
I dramatically throw my hands up. Can she not see how important it is that I go too? “Come on, Em. You don’t actually have to do anything. I can look after myself… we’ll just tell Mum and Dad that you and Luke are.”
Felicity laughs. “Your parents will be fine. However, can I be there when you ask Brody?”
Okay, so Brody Harris—eldest friend of my brother, painfully beautiful, and a total arsehole—isn’t my biggest fan. We either ignore each other or we clash… because he is an arsehole, while I am not. I’m sure I can convince him though. Vegas is massive. We don’t have to hang out together.
“I can handle Brody,” I tell them, sitting taller and feigning confidence. “Will you two please have my back?”
“You know we will,” Felicity says. “Mason and Luke won’t mind, so that’s four of us wanting you to come.”
I might be four years younger than Emma and Felicity, but we’ve always been close, as have our families. I even get along with Felicity and Brody’s older brother Mason. The six of us have been chucked together since we were babies and raised kind of like cousins. It shows. Well, not so much with Brody and me.
Emma lies back against her sun lounger and shakes her head as she smiles. “You can come, Little Wren.”
“If you could lay off the Little Wren thing when we’re talking to them, that would be great. Dad and Luke still think I’m about five.”
“Your dad and brother will always think that. Dad, Mason, and Brody are constantly interfering in my life. Or helping, as they call it.” Felicity drops her sunglasses back over her leafy-green eyes.
We’re all at Felicity’s parents’ house because it’s summer, and they have a pool. With everyone busy and most of us—not me—now moved out of home, we don’t get to spend as much time together. Today, though, we’re all here for swimming and a barbecue.
All the parents are inside because they’re not swimming. Brody, Mason, and Luke are sitting around the patio table, drinking beer from the bottle.
Okay, game plan, Wren. “I need to get Brody on side first, don’t I?”
Emma rolls her head to face me. “We’re going for his birthday, so yes.”
“Definitely go talk to him now while you’re in a bikini,” Felicity says, picking up her mimosa.
I put mine down. She’s probably expecting me to refuse to use my body like that with Brody, and usually, I would. But Vegas.
I pat the small triangles of my red bikini top. “Wish me luck.”
They sit up, the sun loungers clicking into the new upright position as they go for a better look.
Great.
I get up and walk over to them, looking much more confident than I feel. My blood-red bikini is my favourite and the one to convince Brody. For now, I’ll pretend that he doesn’t mildly dislike me.
When I stop by the table, three pairs of eyes ping to me. Luke, being my brother, is the only one who looks at my face.
Top job, bikini.
I smile. “Brody—”
“No,” he replies, his midnight-blue eyes finally rising to mine.
See, he’s an arsehole. How can someone who looks so perfect—defined cheekbones, strong jaw, thick and masculine lips, deep eyes you could drown in, and inky-black hair—be such a massive bellend?
“You don’t even know what I was about to say.”
“Yes, I do.”
I shrug. “I guess you don’t like blow jobs then. That’s cool.”
“Fucking hell, Wren!” Luke spits, turning his nose up.
Mason chuckles.
Brody’s face is straight, unaffected. “What makes you think I would fall for that?”
“Ugh! Please? I really want to come.”
Mason laughs again, but we all ignore him.
“Wren, you’re eighteen,” Brody says.
I point. “Exactly. I’m an adult.”
“Come on, man,” Luke says.
I knew my big bro would be
on my side.
Brody drags his eyes from me to Luke, and then back again. He lingers for a second and groans. “Wren …”
“I want to celebrate your birthday, too.”
He lifts a brow. “I’ll buy a cake, and you can sing to me.”
“You’re being impossible.”
He takes a long swig of his beer. “If you can’t get into bars and casinos, what are you going to do?”
“There’s plenty to do! They have arcades, bowling, swimming pools, cinemas, shows, and shopping.”
“He’s making you sweat, Wren. We all know he’s going to say yes,” Mason teases.
“Why are you getting involved?” Brody barks at his brother.
Mason smirks.
“Brody?” I purr.
“No.”
I throw my hands up. “Please!”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s my birthday.”
“I’m aware.”
His blue eyes darken. “Go back and sunbathe, Wren.”
“Oh my God, budge.”
“No.”
“Please!”
“Fine!” he snaps. “All right. You can come.”
I clap. “Yay. I knew you would come around.”
Brody’s scowl transforms into a smirk. “You were always coming, but that was fun.”
The bastard. “You fucking what now?”
Mason and Luke laugh, and I want to wrap my hands around Brody’s neck and squeeze him like a stress ball.
He leans back in his seat. “You would have done the same to me.”
“No, I wouldn’t. You’re a dickhead, and you’re going to Hell.”
“She’s not wrong, man,” Luke says.
I pick up Brody’s beer as he puts it down and take a swig. He watches me like a hawk. I wait for his reaction. Although, now I don’t expect him to react because he knows that’s what I want. Every time I’m with Brody, it’s like we play one giant game of chess.
As I set it down, he says, “I backwashed it.”
“No, you didn’t. Thanks for the drink.”
His eyes narrow as I turn and walk back to Felicity and Emma.
Viva Las fucking Vegas, baby!
Chapter 2
Brody
Airport security is crammed with people packed together like we’re in a fucking mosh pit at a heavy metal concert. Why does no one care about personal space in places like this?
I care.
The last thing I want is the sweaty, bald guy to touch any part of my body. He’s standing so close that his penis could poke me if erect. This is what I hate the most about travelling. Especially when some twat rocks up late and complains about how slow everyone is.
It’s hot, we’ve only been in the airport for fifteen minutes, and I already feel like I need a shower.
We’re near the front of security now, so we chuck our stuff in the trays and step to the side to go through the scanner.
Emma and Felicity go first and start picking up our bags from the trays at the other end.
Mason and Luke are both stopped for a search. Mase turns and scowls when an overweight man gestures for him to follow. Luke has the attractive redheaded woman with the massive rack.
“I bet you get felt up,” Wren says, looking at me over her shoulder. Her blonde hair is tied up and still hangs low down her back.
“Is that what you think about in bed?”
“Yes. Every dream I have is about an old security guy stuffing his finger up your arse.”
Fucking girl. I made a mistake ten days ago by saying she could come. “You’re next, Wren.”
She looks ahead and walks through the scanner.
I go next—without setting any alarms off. I give her a pointed look, and she rolls her pretty blue eyes.
Leaning closer to her, I whisper, “If you really want a finger put someplace later, give me a shout.”
Pursing her lips, she grabs her bag from the tray and stuffs her phone and iPad inside it. “I dare you to say that louder.”
“Not a chance in hell,” I reply, watching Luke out of the corner of my eyes. Everyone else would take it as a joke. Luke would cut my dick off. I thought I was protective of Felicity, but he is a whole new level of calm the fuck down when it comes to Wren.
We head through the airport to find somewhere to eat. It’s best to fill up now before we’re forced to eat airplane “food.” There must be higher standards on animal food.
“You did a good thing, letting Wren come along,” Felicity says, patting me on the back like I’m a fucking dog.
“Did I have a choice?” I grumble.
“Of course you did. We’re here for your birthday.”
I didn’t have a choice. Although she’s the little one—the one we’ve always had to make allowances for—it wouldn’t be right without her. Not that she will ever hear me admit that.
“Yeah, well, she’ll be doing her own thing.”
Felicity rolls her eyes. “Emma and I have a couple of things planned with her. I don’t think I can gamble every day.”
I lift a brow. “You’re cool with that?”
“Absolutely, we are. She’s my sister from another mister … and missus.”
Okay. We think of Luke, Emma, and Wren as our siblings? When did that happen? Luke is kind of like a brother, only he doesn’t piss me off nearly as much as Mase and Felicity do.
“She’s fucking young.”
Felicity tilts her head. “No, she’s young for Vegas. When we’re home, we can all go out together and get her drunk off her face.”
I cross my arms as we follow the others towards a bunch of restaurants.
“She’s irritating as hell when she’s sober. I don’t fancy seeing her drunk.”
I have, of course, but I didn’t have to deal with her. In a club, I don’t have to be up close.
“Play nice.” Felicity laughs. “Pretend she’s still wearing the red bikini.”
That damn red bikini. “Don’t go there,” I warn.
“She’s an adult now, and I saw your face when she walked over to you while wearing it.”
“She has a banging body. Mase looked too.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re being a brat.”
Laughing, she bumps my arm. “I’m done. I’m only teasing.”
Felicity and I join the others at Giraffe—an odd name for a restaurant—and take a seat around a table near the window.
Wren picks up the drinks menu and taps the cocktails section. “For the next two hours, I can drink with all of you.”
“You know they’ll kick you off the plane if you’re drunk,” I tell her.
She looks to her side. “You’re the kind of person to post TV show spoilers online, aren’t you?”
I have a banging comeback about those kinds of people, but I have to turn away because Felicity is looking, and her ridiculous comment has made me hyperaware of my banter with Wren. Why did she need to ruin it? For once, Wren and I had a good thing going.
We eat, and by the time we wander around a couple of shops, looking at sunglasses and alcohol that isn’t cheap enough to make me want to carry it around, our gate is open, and we need to board.
Emma and Felicity checked us in online yesterday, so we already know where we’re sitting. Emma has this uncontrollable need to be organised. She even looked up the seating map online to find the seats she wanted—near an emergency exit.
Now, it will fall on us to open the doors if it all goes to shit. Nothing like the pressure of four hundred lives to kick off your birthday trip. Not that we would be able to worry about falling to our death for very long if we had to jump.
All I see in front of me is Wren’s head bobbing up and down—and not in the way I’d like. Her fingernail is between her teeth as we show our boarding passes. I want to grab her shoulders and hold her to the spot.
“Do you need to pee or something?” I ask her.
She cuts me a death look and follows Emm
a to the plane. I watch her legs in some seriously sexy denim shorts as she boards. So much attitude.
“Ten hours on a plane,” Mason groans.
“Sleep,” I tell him.
Mase has never been good at being still.
“As soon as we get off, I’m going to need a drink and a shag.”
“Really, Mason?” Felicity scolds.
Wren pokes his arm. “He’s already tried all of the women in England. He might have better luck in America.”
“Oh, Little Wren, you’re so not as funny as you think.”
Right then, she was.
“Move it, Mase. I need to get a whiskey,” I say, shoving his arm.
Mason playfully punches my arm, and we finally board the plane.
“This way,” Emma calls, putting on her leader hat.
The rest of us let her because none of us can be bothered with online check-ins and fucking seating plans.
I take my seat in the middle with Wren next to me by the window. Emma and Felicity are in front of us, while Luke and Mason are in front of them. I drew the short straw.
The engine fires up, and Wren takes a deep breath. Her hands fumble as she buckles the seat belt.
“Wren?”
“No,” she snaps, curling her hands around the armrests. She’s gone from shitting rainbows excited to being pale and petrified in the press of an engine button.
“Wow, Wren Clark is a nervous flyer.”
Her head twists to me, and she gawps like I’m dense. “Do you know how high and how fast these things go? We’ll die if anything goes wrong.”
I shrug. “Probably, however I think we’d pass out if it fell from the sky. We wouldn’t actually feel ourselves smashing into the ground.”
Her mouth parts and her forehead creases. “You are a horrible person.”
The screens in front of us switch on, and the safety message begins.
“I don’t know why they bother showing this. Tucking your head between your knees is just going to make your head slam into the floor first.”
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