Read Online Arizona Heat by Ellie J. LaBelle - Free Book Online Page B

person reading them. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. ” I relax a little at his understanding. He could have just as easily looked at me like a freak.
    “Thanks, ” I say, putting the book back into my bag.
    “I just wouldn't have pegged you for the type of girl to read things like that, ” he says.
    “What’s that supposed to mean? ” I ask a little defensively.
    “You just seem like more of a Pride and Prejudic e kind of girl.”
    I don’t bother arguing with him. Partially because I am embarrassed but also because I have read Pride and Prejudic e more times that I care to admit to him. I’m a romance junkie, what can I say? Every true hopeless romantic fell in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy harder than any other character. You can take that to the bank.
    We cross over the border to Nevada and I am thankful we are almost there. I can’t look at Reagan’s smug grin for another minute. Granted, it’s an adorably smug grin, which makes me hate it even more. The late afternoon air is refreshing against my face as I lay my head on the window, watching the pink and orange hues cast shadows on the rock. Reagan lets out a loud sigh and I turn to see what he is looking at.
    The massive cluster of bright lights, which I can only assume is the city of Las Vegas, causes me to absentmindedly lean toward the windshield to get a better view of the surprisingly massive skyscrapers. New York has some impressively tall buildings but none of them illuminate the night sky like this. The sun is on its final decent toward the horizon and I glance at Reagan whose profile basks in the orange glow of the setting sun. His features are accentuated as the shadows draw attention to his strong jaw and tan skin. I would photograph him in this moment if I could.
    “What are you looking at? ” he asks without turning his head toward me.
    “Nothing, ” I blush.
    “We will probably have to splurge on a hotel because I doubt there is anywhere convenient to park this thing. I have leftover points if we can find a Marriott or Renaissance.”
    “Don’t you make, like, buckets of money? ” I ask and immediately regret as it slips out of my mouth. Crap . You aren't supposed to ask people how much money they make. “Sorry, don’t answer that, ” I add, my blush deepening.
    “It’s okay, ” he laughs. “Most of the money we make goes right back to the label in tour costs and royalties, you know, stuff like that.”
    “That hardly seems fair, ” I say.
    “That is just the way it is, ” he shrugs.
    “Why don’t you release your albums independently?”
    “If that didn't work for Radiohead, I don’t think it will work for us, ” he laughs.
    “Just a suggestion, ” I mumble.
    “A good suggestion if you could sustain sales without a label, ” he offers with a grin that I can’t stay mad at.
    We pull into the parking lot of a Renaissance and I am in awe of the massive glass structure before me. The lobby is something straight out of a Pier 1 catalog and I feel severely underdressed. My ripped shorts and t-shirt are not really up to par with everyone else.
    Reagan takes care of the room with his points and I thank him before following him to the elevator with my suitcase. The room is very modern with a purple and silver theme that matches the rest of the hotel. I’m surprised by a pang of disappointment when I see two beds. I realize how ridiculous these emotions are but I enjoyed our first night together, even if it was literally just sleeping.
    Nevertheless, I fling my body onto the plush comforter and sigh with happiness. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and notice a few new text messages. One from my dad checking in, three from Francesca begging for details, and nothing from Simon. Shocker .
    “Can you be ready in ten minutes? ” Reagan asks, throwing his suitcase on the bed.
    “Sure, ” I say, snuggling further into the covers.
    “You don’t look like you're getting up anytime soon. I know how you females are when