Zane laughs. “Did I give you that much of a workout?”
I tuck my face into the crook of his neck, embarrassed. “Shut up. I was thinking about the buffet specials I saw downstairs, that’s all.”
“How about a quick nap and then we can check it out together?”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” I mumble gently. “I’d really like that.”
Chapter 7
Zane
She eats like a horse, but I’m not complaining. Far from it, in fact.
There’s something immensely satisfying about watching Willow devour an entire plate full of food. I obviously don’t know much about her home life, and I seriously doubt she’d tell me even if I asked, but I get the sense she isn’t allowed to let loose very often—if at all.
Still, I’m good at studying people. A couple of minutes of observation can afford me several pages worth of information. In my line of work, these small details can be the difference between life and death. While she eats, I quietly take stock of what little I can ascertain.
I wonder if she’s a local. She’s packed lightly, and she said she escaped her would-be wedding only a matter of days ago. Given all the highways and bus lines leading to Vegas, there’s a good chance she might be from a neighboring state.
Willow has an air of refinement about her. It’s in the way she sits, her posture poised and her movements graceful. She may be on the run, but her clothes are a dead giveaway to her social status. Yes, she’s in a pair of jeans, sneakers, a shirt and a winter coat, but they’re all designer labels.
Her sneakers are Puma. Her coat is Burberry. There’s always the possibility she stole these clothes, but I don’t believe Willow is a thief in addition to being a runaway. They fit her too well to have been pulled from some random clothesline or store.
She’s from a richer family, then. One where arranged marriages are apparently not uncommon.
You can’t make me go back! I swear to God, I’ll kill myself before I’ll ever let that man—
My nostrils flare at the memory.
I want to know who she was promised to… and then immediately smash the bastard’s face in. She told me she got cold feet, but I think it’s more than that. She’s running scared. Whoever her fiancé is must be a dangerous man. Resourceful, too, if he’s able to send men after her.
But until she tells me the truth, it’s all conjecture.
Hell, I don’t even know her full name.
“Willow?”
“Hm?” She looks at me, half a jalapeño popper stuffed in her mouth. She’s been sitting there enjoying her pyramid of snacks with a silly grin on her face, evenwigglingin her seat because she’s so happy with her meal.
“Feel like going shopping?” I ask her.
She arches a brow. “I don’t have any money.”
“It’s on me. And before you try to object, it’s my job.”
“It’s your job to go shopping?”
“You’re wearing the same clothes you wore when you left home, right?” I ask gently, noting how easily Willow’s cheeks turn pink. “We need to get you something new to wear. Change up your look. It’ll keep the folks who are after you guessing.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek. I’ve noticed she does this when she’s deep in thought. Willow quickly glances from her plate to the exit, then back to me. When she does, there’s a resilient fire behind those baby blues.
“Maybe you have a point,” she says. “But what about your brothers?”
“What about them?”
“Won’t I be getting in the way of your vacation time? You’re here to prepare for a wedding, aren’t you?”
“Heath and Knox are big boys,” I say dryly. “They can last a day or two without me. Besides, the whole point of having a Vegas wedding was because it’s simple or whatever. Heath and Darlene are probably getting a head start on their honeymoon somewhere between the slot machines, and Knox is probably off being grumpy in a dark corner like the gremlin he is.”