"They got a gym so I'm guessin'... yeah."

This got him another bright smile then her shades did a head to lap and back again before she observed, "You aren't in swim trunks."

"Lexie, I'm half black. My tan is permanent. I don't need to work on it."

"Right," she muttered, still grinning.

It was then he cast his mind back to try to pull up Ronnie Rodriguez. Rodriguez had fucked himself the middle of his sophomore year but saw a shitload of playing time the season and a half before he did it. Therefore Walker could pull him up but not much except the fact the brother was lean, tall and black. How he got the last name Rodriguez, Walker didn't know. Then again, Shift had the last name Martinez and he, too, was black. Maybe it was some Texas thing.

What Walker did know was that a lot of white bitches didn't mind playing with black but they sure as fuck didn't take it home to Daddy and black was black even if it was full, half or a nuance.

He also knew Lexie didn't have a Daddy but if she did, she'd take black home and, he figured, with her sass, Daddy didn't like it, she'd tell him to go fuck himself.

On this thought, he asked, "Had breakfast?" and she shook her head.

He turned his and saw the outside restaurant at the side of the pool.

Then he looked back at her. "I'm hungry."

"Me too," she agreed, let go of his hand and moved instantly.

Rolling off the lounger, she bent low and grabbed some clothes she'd shoved under it. Then she pulled on a tight, tee fabric halter top the color of her swimsuit and then a pair of black short-shorts. Then she sat, bent forward and started strapping on a pair of black sandals with tall, wedged heels.

Something barbed pressed into the skin at the back of his neck and he tore his eyes from his new wife to look three loungers away. There he saw a man who definitely spent a lot of time working on his tan. Oiled up. Tight, black swim trunks. Gold at his neck. His shades aimed at Alexa Walker's cleavage exposed to his view as she was bent toward the guy.

"Yo!" he barked, felt Lexie's surprised movement rather than saw it but also saw tight trunk man's shades jerk up to his face. Walker shook his head slowly. The guy quickly looked away.

The barbed feeling faded.

Lexie stood and came into his line of sight.

"What was that?" she asked quietly.

"I'm standin' here," he answered.

Her head cocked to the side. She was confused or maybe she didn't notice the guy. He was guessing the second as he'd noted she didn't notice men's attention, something which she got a lot of.

But he did.

He moved around the lounge, got close to her and tipped his chin down to lock shades.

"He was starin' at your tits."

Her head slowly turned to the lounger holding tight trunk man.

Then it turned to him, tipped back and they again locked shades.

Then she muttered, "Euw."

Total goof. Total cute.

Fuck him.

"Yeah, that for you, for me, my woman is puttin' on her shoes, I'm standin' right there, you do not fuckin' stare at her tits."

"Oh," she whispered.

"Right. Oh." He jerked his head at the lounge. "You gonna get your stuff?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll leave it to keep my place. I'll keep an eye on it from our table."

That was acceptable so he moved.

She moved with him and did what she did the day before, grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers with his. She held on tight. Bag of Bones was watching and she was earning her fifty K.

They were seated at a table where he could keep an eye on her shit; she sat in the seat next to him at the square table instead of opposite. A scan of the pool and restaurant showed that Bag of Bones was gone, probably because the morning Vegas sun was torture on his pasty white skin.

They ordered and he was doing another scan to see if Bones was back when he felt her fingers on his hand and his head tipped down to see her hand was at his which was resting on the table and she was thumbing his wide, white gold wedding band.

"He's gone," Walker informed her.

Her hand moved away quickly and her head shot back to look at him, both movements indicating that for some reason he'd startled her.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"Bones. He's gone."

Her shades immediately moved to scan the area and she whispered, "He was here?"

Something sharp pierced straight through the left side of his chest.

Then he asked, "You didn't tag him? He was out here when I got here."

Her shades came back to him, she shook her head and said, "I thought he was following you. Why's he following me?"

"You didn't tag him," Walker repeated, this time a statement, not a question.

She shook her head again and said, "No. No. I..." She paused. "Oh my God. How creepy. Why's he following me?"

She didn't tag him.

She'd smiled bright at him. Called him her goofy name. Kept smiling at him. Tugged him to her lounge. Held hands with him almost the entire time he was with her and thumbed his wedding ring in a way that she'd been absorbed in it and he'd startled her when she saw she had his attention.

What the fuck?

As that question came to his mind, their coffee came, saving him from having to guess at an answer and giving him an opportunity to set aside an explanation as to why Bones was following her. The time would come when the need to know she needed to know was that she'd be looked into. Now was not that time.

"Today, I got shit to do," he told her as she poured milk into her coffee.

She nodded. "That's cool. I'm gonna bake."

"You got shit to do too."

She went from spooning sugar into her coffee to looking at him. "What?"

"In two days we're headin' home. My home. Carnal. You got a job to quit and a life to shut down. You need to start on that."

Her shades stayed locked with his.

Then she muttered, "Oh God, I didn't think about that."

"Tomorrow can be your vacation day. Today, you sort shit out."

She went back to spooning sugar in but she did it nodding. He counted as her hand moved. She took four sugars. No wonder she had that ass.

"You got people who can help you or do we need to carve out time, drive down and sort that?" he asked.

She stopped stirring, put her spoon aside, took a sip then put her cup down while looking at him.

"Ronnie's Mom and sisters will kick in for me. I tell them I'm moving out from under Shift's thumb, they'll rent Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader outfits and do cartwheels around Cowboy Stadium."

"They probably should save that energy and use it to pack your shit and send it to Carnal."

She laughed softly then muttered, "Yeah, Ty, you're probably right."

"You need movers, they get quotes, you tell me, I'll get them the money. I'll also give you the address."

Her head tipped to the side. "The address?"

"To my house."

"Your house?"

"My house."

"What house?"

"My house in Carnal."

"You have a house in Carnal?"

"I went to prison but doin' it don't mean I was stripped of all my possessions. I went, Maggie saw to my shit."

He watched with interest as her shoulders went straight and then she asked, "Maggie?"

"Maggie," he confirmed.

"Who's Maggie?" she asked and her tone was one he hadn't heard from her yet. Not sass. Not attitude. Not annoyed. But the edge was sharp. Leaning toward pissed not in the sense that women get pissed. In the sense that women get pissed.

"My former boss's ex-wife. Though, he got his head outta his ass, saw what he fucked up and now they're attempting a reconcile. So, I guess I should say, the last year, Maggie and Wood been seein' to my shit."

"Wood?"

"Maggie's ex. The man who owns the garage I used to work at."

"Oh," she whispered.

"We get home, you'll need to take a look. Your shit's better than my shit, move your shit in and we'll move my shit out. It's not, have your people get rid of it, bank the cash."

Her shades held his.

"Um... again, how long's this business gonna last?"

"Again, I don't know. But what people gotta see is you and me startin' a life together."

She hesitated. Then, "Right."

He stared at her. Then his eyes went to her left hand sitting in her lap. The band embedded with small diamonds sitting tight under the engagement ring served as a reminder that yesterday cut deep into his reserve. He had a marker of fifty K to pay. He had a life to restart. He had business to see to. He had to find a table.

Then he noticed her lips were pressed together, he guessed as to why and reminded her, "Time to bolt is over. You're wearin' my rings."

Her head jerked and she declared firmly, "I'm not going to bolt."

The tightness in his chest he hadn't noticed until he heard her words released.

"How did, um... Maggie and Wood take care of your shit?" she asked.

"Rented my place. Paid my bills. Banked the extra. Vacated the tenants a month ago when I asked 'em to. Stored my shit when I went down, took it outta storage and dumped it at home. Sorted through it to pack the shit I needed, sent it to Shift for him to add what he owed and give it to you."

"That was nice of them to do."

"They're nice."

Her lips tipped up.

Their food was served.

Unlike with her tuna melt, but absolutely the same as when their room service was delivered last night, she dug in, no bullshit nibbling, pretending she didn't need food to survive. She'd ordered a Belgian waffle. And she liked what she ordered and didn't give a fuck if he knew it.

Alexa Walker was a beautiful, classy, sexy, part-goof who liked her food.

And Ty Walker liked all of that.

Too much.

Christ, pussy had fucked his life and here he was, two days out of the joint and sitting under a fucking umbrella in the Vegas heat next to pussy who'd had dick fuck up her life and he wanted in there so fucking badly he could almost convince himself he already tasted her on his tongue.

Jesus, he needed another shower and not because he was eating eggs, bacon, sausage and toast in the Vegas heat but because he needed to take his fist to his cock or he'd likely do something he seriously regretted and that something would mean she'd bolt and he'd never see her smile again.