“Babe,” he grunted. “Luggage.”
“I checked it.”
He stared at her.
“That’s why I’m late,” she explained. “Traffic on 225. Just a semi off the road, but everyone had to slow down to gawk. Then I had to check my bag.”
“You think to return my texts so I didn’t worry?” he asked.
“I told you I was on my way and you know I don’t text and drive, Nick,” she retorted, her attention to her lap as she clicked her belt. Done with that, she again looked to him. “And calling you or texting you would have delayed me getting to you.”
“Checking your bag delayed you too.”
She shook her head in abbreviated shakes, like a head shudder, indicating she found what he said distasteful.
Her tone stated the same thing when she decreed, “I don’t do carry-ons.”
“Liv, we’re gonna be gone two days.”
At that, she stared at him.
Then she lifted a hand in a sweep up her front, ending with a flourish around her head, and asked with incredulity, “Do you think this happens with security allowances of carry-on liquids?”
Nick felt his body jerk.
Then he burst out laughing.
“No,” she snapped through his laughter. “It doesn’t. One day. Two. Three. It doesn’t matter. I’d have to be gone an hour to do carry-on.”
Still laughing, he caught her by the neck, pulled her to him and took her mouth in a deep kiss.
She kissed him back just as deeply.
Even so, when he lifted his head away, she declared, “That was a much better, ‘Hello, Livvie. I’m excited for our weekend away.’”
“Hello, baby. I’m fuckin’ ecstatic about our weekend away.”
Her mouth quirked and she murmured, “That works too.”
He smiled at her.
Her mouth stopped quirking and she smiled back.
The plane started reversing from the gate and the flight attendant began the safety address.
* * * * *
7:45 – Vegas Time
“I hope you’re hungry,” Olivia said while wandering into their suite at the Cosmopolitan, Nick following, his carry-on over his shoulder, rolling her huge-ass piece of luggage. “Because I’m famished and I need to inspect that Swarovski chandelier much closer, hopefully doing it holding a cocktail…oh!”
The oh! was due to the fact he’d dumped their shit, and when she got close to the bed, he’d thrown her on it.
He didn’t delay in shoving up her skirt.
“Nick, sweetheart, I’m hungry.”
Chest to the bed, hips over the side, he pushed her legs open, looking to her to see she’d lifted up on her elbows.