Page 87 of On the Map

"Check out that fire margarita stand." T.J. pointed behind Sloan and me, wrecking the gentle moment of silence playing out between us.

I sucked in a breath.

It couldn't be the same stand.

No, that wasn't possible since the place had certainly been shut down at some point in the past year.

I turned to peek and, sure enough, the same stand with the same homemade signs and the same bartender still slinging the same yardstick drinks was right there.

T.J. started toward the stand like he would make a purchase we all knew he'd regret, but Sloan caught his arm.

"Nah, man, you don't want what he's selling." Sloan and I both shook our heads.

"Yeah, I do." T.J. tried to pull his arm away, but Sloan held tighter. "There's a souvenir cup."

"Let the man have his booze," Finn said, clearly not understanding the importance of avoiding that vendor.

"I want one," T.J. whined.

"I promise you do not." Sloan shook his head.

T.J. pouted, but he made no more attempts to get to the margaritas.

Sloan wrapped his arm around my waist, and I returned the gesture.

Let the tabloids talk about our trip to Vegas tomorrow. No doubt, some would love it, and some would hate it, and I didn't care who said what because I had Sloan.

Sloan, who kissed me… right in front of the M&M Store there on the Vegas Strip.

People stared, and there were cameras, but I didn't care because I had him.

He was mine.