Evan covers his mouth with his hand, choking back his laughter.

Carrie Lynn is quiet for a while. At first, I think she might be buying it, but then she crosses her arms and raises her brows. “I know you’re lying, Lexi, but I’m going to let you off the hook. And you want to know why?” Even though I really don’t, I nod. “Because I love glitter, and I think it’s meant to be shared. Plus, that excuse you just gave was really creative. I hope you’ll be able to put some of that creativity into arts and crafts time.”

My mood nosedives right into the bin of glitter. “Arts and crafts time?”

She bobs her head up and down, her eyes lighting up. “After we get settled into our rooms, we’re going to meet up in mine and make matching T-shirts!” And just like that, she goes from angry to elated in two seconds flat.

She may annoy me to no end, but I kind of envy her ability to get over stuff in the snap of a finger. It makes me feel the tiniest drop of guilt as I start racking my brain for how I’m going to fake food poisoning to blow off arts and crafts time. But I’m not about to back out on that plan.

I’m in Vegas, I’m drunk, and Evan looks way too hot in his glitter get-up not to go out.

Chapter 11

16 hours later…

Ugh. It feels like I’ve been run over by a truck. My head is pounding, every bone in my body aches, and my mouth tastes like coconut cream pie. I have no idea where I am, what’s going on, or if I’m even awake.

I force my heavy eyelids open and glance at a clock on the nightstand beside the bed I’m lying in. Ten o’clock—I look over to see sunlight peeking through the cracks in the curtains—in the morning?

I clutch my throbbing skull. “What the hell did I do last night?”

I rack my brain for an answer, but then someone moves beside me. Okay, maybe the question is not what the hell did I do, but who the hell did I do?

I carefully sit up, not wanting to wake up whoever they are. Then I lean over to get a good look, crossing my fingers I didn’t do one of my infamously stupid drunk, what-the-hell-was-I-thinking moves and sleep with someone like cupid from the corner.

The person is tucked under the covers, so I raise the blanket and peer underneath.

Dark hair, soft skin, lean arms, a tattoo curving down his side …

“Evan,” I gasp, covering my hand with my mouth. Then I do a double gasp at the feel of metal kissing my lips.

I jerk my hand away from my mouth and gape at the silver band on my … ring finger!

No, I didn’t. Please, say I didn’t. This wasn’t what I meant last night when I vowed to move forward in my life. This is way, way too forward too fast!

“Calm down,” I whisper to myself. “Maybe it’s not what you think. Maybe it’s just a joke.”

I lean back against the headboard as pieces of last night slowly creep up on me.

Evan and I are at the bar, sitting on barstools, leaning dangerously close to each other.

“I can’t believe the food poisoning stunt didn’t work,” I say. “Thankfully, we were smart enough to pull out that backup plan.”

“What backup plan?” His head angles to the side, his forehead furrowing. “You mean, getting lost in the crowd. Because that was an accident. There’s so many people on the street, I couldn’t tell what was right and what was left.”

“It might have been an accident for you,” I say. “But I totally got lost from the bridesmaid glitter posse on purpose. And so did Emersyn.”

His gaze skims the dance floor. “Where is Emersyn anyway?”

“She went back to her room for a little while, remember?” I ask and he unevenly shakes his head. “Like fifteen minutes ago, she said she had a headache and was going to go lie down. I think she just wanted to have phone sex with her boy toy.”

He shoots me an appalled look. “TMI, Lexi. Seriously.”

“Sorry, but it’s true.” I scoop up another shot and down it. “I’m jealous. I wish I was having phone sex right now. Or real sex. That would be nice.” I press my lips together as I feel Evan’s stare boring a hole into the side of my head. “Please stop looking at me like that,” I warn. “I’m serious. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He plays dumb, but his eyes smolder with amusement.

“Looking at me all intense, like you’re picturing me naked.”

“Maybe I am picturing you naked.”

When warm tingles spill all over my skin, I try to shove the sensation away, reminding myself that just yesterday I was flirting with his brother. But I’m flustered, drunk, horny as a mother-effer, and Evan is right there, smirking at me, looking sexy as hell, shirtless and rocking the body glitter.

“I haven’t had sex in a year,” I blurt out. “But I can’t have sex with you, because I’m supposed to be moving forward in my life.”

“Oh, yeah?” He seems oddly entertained by my confession.

I nod, counting down on my fingers. “I have to get a job; get a place of my own, because having gnomes for roommates isn’t going to work; and I have to find a husband, preferably one who’s already got his shit together.”

He props his arm against the counter and rests his chin against his hand, his eyelids half lowered, his eyes glazed over. “Sorry, but I can only help you with one of those. And I’m not sure if I have my shit together. I’m still figuring that out.”

“Hmmm …” I tap my finger against my lip. “Do you have a job?”

He bobs his head up and down. “I own my own business.”

“Then there you go. You have your shit together.” I pause. “Wait, you don’t own any gnomes, do you?”

He shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “I have a dog, though.”

“Dogs are okay,” I say. “But we should probably kiss first to see if we’re compatible.”

Evan laughs lazily. “Then what? We just get married?”

I nod my head. “Yep. And then you’ll be my husband.”

“What if I don’t want to be your husband?”

I jut out my bottom lip, pouting. “You don’t want to be my husband?”

He rubs his scruffy jawline. “That all depends on how often I have to wear body glitter.”

“How about once a month?” I ask then knock back another shot.

He considers my offer then wets his lips with his tongue. “Okay, then.”

Even intoxicated, his answer throws me off. But I have little time to process it because suddenly we are slowly leaning toward each other. When our mouths are an inch apart, lust floods my body, and I crash my lips against his.

He makes the sexiest groaning sound ever as his hands find my waist. He jerks me forward between his legs, and I gasp then moan, sliding my hands up his shimmering chest.

We start making out wildly, only coming up for air to take shots. Everything happens so fast: shots, kissing, shots. Then, suddenly, we’re standing in front of a booth that sells jewelry. Evan buys a ring then he gets down on one knee and slips the ring on my finger, telling me how amazing he always thought I was. How, in high school, I was nice to him when no one else was, how I helped him get through such a hard time without even knowing it.

When I say yes, I’ll marry him, he jumps up and hugs me, spinning us around in circles until we bump into the booth and fall on our asses.

“Wait,” I say as we stagger to our feet. “How can we get married when we know nothing about each other?”

“I know you hate glitter.” He braces his hand against the booth to keep from tipping over. “And you hate the town’s pie baking contest, but you love pie.”

“You should know more, though.” I contemplate what to do. “How about this? We each tell each other five things about ourselves: likes and dislikes, fears, worries, whatever.”