What Happens In Vegas. Rachel BaileyЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Seven

      Thank goodness it was Saturday.

      For some, Saturdays were days for barbecues, college football games and relaxation. For Amelia, Saturday meant all-day wedding chaos, but today she was grateful for it. Her mind had to stay focused on work, so there was zero time to sit and analyze what they’d done last night. Well, aside from fifteen minutes in the shower when she washed the scent of him from her skin and tried to ignore the memories of making love to Tyler only a few hours earlier.

      Amelia had not intended on that happening so soon. They were dating, but it was still early on, despite moving in together. None of that had seemed important at the time. She’d gotten caught up in the moment. The fuzzy edge of sleep had blurred her thoughts. When he’d touched her, all she could think about, all she’d wanted, was to fall into his arms again. So she’d gone with it.

      In the end, sleeping with the man who was technically her husband was hardly newsworthy. The reality seemed more complicated than that when your husband was your best friend and you were starting an impromptu family together. Of course, this whole process would be easier if she stopped fighting it. The thirty-day challenge wasn’t supposed to be a battle; it was supposed to be a trial run. And Tyler was doing his part. He’d done everything she’d asked of him so far, and then some. His every action seemed to be motivated by his thoughtful nature. He was kind. He cared about her and what was best for her and the baby. They didn’t always agree on what those things were, but marriage was about compromise.

      For once in her life, maybe she just needed to relax and let things happen. Something wonderful could come from it if she allowed the universe to unfold as it should. That was a tall order for Amelia, but she’d think on it. The alternative, as Natalie had pointed out, was unacceptable. She couldn’t lose her friendship with Tyler over this.

      Once she stepped from the shower and dried off, she had to let that line of thought go and get ready for work. It took a little longer than usual, but she was still adjusting to the new house and trying to figure out where everything was. Since she now lived so much closer to From This Moment, she would still get there well before eight, even when it took five minutes to find her blow-dryer.

      Tyler had still been asleep when she got up. When she finished in the bathroom, she moved quickly through the bedroom to the kitchen so she wouldn’t disturb him. She wanted to get out the door before he noticed. Yes, she was being a chicken, avoiding an awkward conversation, but she had a good reason to leave.

      As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she realized it was a pointless exercise. Tyler was sitting at the counter hunched over his tablet, reading, with a mug of coffee in his hand. He still had on the rumpled clothes he’d slept in, his dark blond hair wildly standing up in several different directions. Instead of looking messy, the look was charming. An intimate portrait of the man behind the suit. It made her want to come up behind him and wrap her arms around his neck, plant a kiss on his rough cheek and tousle his hair.

      Even though they’d had sex, that somehow seemed too intimate. Instead she turned her attention to a tall glass beside him with something greenish brown in it. She was certain it would look unappetizing even if she wasn’t having her daily battle with morning sickness.

      Amelia knew there was no avoiding a discussion before she left. Maybe he would want to ignore last night’s encounter, as well. That seemed like a topic for after noon, at least. With a deep breath, she continued on into the kitchen.

      “Morning,” she said as cheerfully as she could without sounding suspicious. She opened the door to the pantry and started nosing around for something quick and easy she could take with her for breakfast. Eating was not high on her priority list at the moment, but when the nausea faded, she’d be starving and up to her elbows in twice-baked potatoes for the reception. She picked up a high-protein granola bar with chocolate chips. A bundle of bananas was sitting on the counter. One of those would slip easily into her purse for later.

      “Good morning,” Tyler replied, his voice low and gruff from sleep. He looked up from his screen. “I already made your breakfast. I hope you don’t mind. I know you’re the chef, but I thought you might be in a hurry this morning.”

      Amelia turned around and noticed he’d slid the tall glass of green sludge closer to her. “Thanks,” she said, although she didn’t feel very grateful. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly as she neared it. “What is it?”

      “It’s a pregnancy smoothie. I found the recipe online. It’s got cocoa and peanut butter, which you like, plus bananas to soothe a queasy stomach, milk for calcium and spinach for the iron and folic acid needed for healthy fetal development.”

      She eyed the glass with suspicion. It sounded like a good idea. Maybe it tasted better than it looked. Even if it didn’t, Tyler was looking at her with such a pleased and hopeful expression, she’d have to drink it anyway. Lifting the glass to her nose, she sniffed it. It smelled like peanut butter and bananas, mostly. Nothing to make her recoil. Bringing the straw to her lips, she found it tasted the same. The spinach seemed to disappear, adding nutrition while letting the other flavors shine.

      “Mmm,” she said, swallowing a large sip. “This is pretty good. You can feel free to make me one of these every day.”

      “Absolutely,” he said with a smile. “Taking good care of our child means taking good care of you. I’m glad to do it.”

      Amelia fought a small twinge in the back of her mind as he spoke. She recognized the feeling as the pang of jealousy, but that didn’t make any sense. Who was she jealous of? Their baby? That seemed silly. She should be happy that Tyler wanted them to have a happy, healthy child. And he most likely wanted her to be happy and healthy, too. Amelia was just being oversensitive. She would blame the hormones.

      “And after what I experienced yesterday,” Tyler continued, “you’re going to need all the good nutrition you can get. Are all of your days like that?”

      She swallowed another sip and set down the glass on the shiny granite countertop. “Just Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Saturdays are the worst. I have no idea when I’ll get home tonight. I probably won’t get back until one or two a.m., so don’t wait up. What are you doing today?”

      Tyler set down his tablet. “I’m going to the estate auction of a country-music singer. She died last year, but her lawyers have finally gotten her estate settled. Her heirs just want to liquidate for cash.”

      “Who is it?” Amelia asked. There were a lot of country-music stars in Nashville to choose from.

      “Patty Travis. That woman was the country-music equivalent of Liberace. She spent almost every dime she earned on jewelry, and her famous roster of lovers over the years bought her even more. It’s almost as good as the Elizabeth Taylor auction a few years back. I’m hoping to snap up a few nice pieces.”

      Amelia frowned at Tyler. “That’s why you really came to Nashville!” she accused at last.

      He opened his mouth to argue but must have decided against it. “I came to Nashville,” he said, seeming to choose his words very carefully, “to see you and work out the details of the divorce we’re not getting. It was my first opportunity to come, and I was able to make the time because,