Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“It’s okay.” He held out a bottle of water and what looked to be two over-the-counter painkillers. “Here. Take this before you try to get up.”
“Thanks.” I studied the pills, not his face, afraid to let him down again.
“They’re generic acetaminophen. I can show you the bottle.”
“No, I believe you.’’ I swallowed them down, continuing to drink the water. God, had I ever been so parched?
“Careful. You don’t want to hurl again.”
“Again?” I whimpered. I must have been right about the cause of my missing shirt. Humiliation washed over me. I didn’t do things like this. Ever. I didn’t drink. Didn’t black out. Didn’t go home with gorgeous strangers. Except, apparently, I had.
“Yup.”’ He nodded. “You had a rough go of it. Your shirt too. But I’ve got one you can borrow.”
He tossed me a black T-shirt advertising the Rainbow Tavern. Much too big, which wasn’t surprising given the man’s professional-wrestler proportions, but I put it on regardless.
“Thank you. You’re very kind.”
“So you’ve said.” His smile was more than a little strained.
“Sorry. I’ve clearly been a burden.” I couldn’t remember most of it, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.
“Nah.” He waved away my concern. “You try to get up and visit the bathroom, and I’ll get started on my famous hangover breakfast.”
“I really don’t think I can eat.”
“You can.” He clapped me on the shoulder, his hand big and warm. “Food will help, trust me.”
“All right,” I said meekly. Following even his simple orders felt good, a way to shut up my racing mind. And strangely sexy, pleasing the gruff bartender with my obedience. Which was ridiculous. This was a mission of mercy, not the start of anything, and I didn’t need to repay his kindness by allowing all these stray lustful ideas to roam through my brain.
Trying to push my inconvenient attraction to Adam aside, I took my unsteady body to the nearby bathroom, exactly as he’d said. I took a moment to freshen up, using toothpaste on my finger to try to do something about my horrendous cotton mouth. His T-shirt was soft and smelled like the sheets, vaguely mountain-y. Maybe I needed to reconsider my detergent choices because his kept creating more inappropriate thoughts.
Or maybe that was the man himself. Damn it, why couldn’t I remember if we’d actually kissed? I didn’t necessarily want to remember the vomiting part of the night, but more specifics of our conversation would be helpful. And I so seldom kissed anyone these days that if I’d locked lips with that perfect fodder for lumberjack fantasies, I’d like to recall it.
I made my way to the main part of the house. The place was older, probably midcentury, with small, boxy rooms notable for the many windows with views of the nearby lake. Prime real estate, if nothing else. The sun streaming in made my head throb worse, but there was nary a curtain in sight. Not much in the way of furniture or décor either. Lumpy couch in the living room, small table with two mismatched chairs in the dining area, and beyond that, a narrow kitchen where Adam was stirring something in a skillet.
“Have a seat.” He pointed at the table where two glasses of water were already waiting.
My stomach didn’t know what to make of the aroma of food, but I obeyed. Rather than stare at him cooking, I studied what I could see of the kitchen. The cabinetry was likely original, while the older white fridge was dotted with magnets advertising various liquor brands and a picture of an elementary-aged child beaming at the camera.
My stomach roiled anew. “You have a kid?”
“Ha.” He snorted. “Teddy’s not mine. He’s my sister’s son. I was living with them, helping out when he was little, but recently, my sister started seeing this guy who got a short-term gig in Alaska. She’s spending the summer there. Left the minute school got out. I miss the little guy like crazy though.”
“Yeah.” My chest hurt, and I dropped my gaze to my hands, twisting them around in my lap. “I can imagine. Your sister’s lucky to have you.”
“Eh. It goes both ways. How about you? Any kids?” he asked it all casual, not even looking up from the stove, but I couldn’t answer. Even swallowing a couple of times didn’t work.
“Not anymore,” I finally managed to mumble.
“Oh damn.” Adam paled, his freckles standing out starkly. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry. And I’m so sorry about your loss. Damn, man. I assumed you were coming off a breakup. I had no clue…”
Hell. Now I had to speak, correct his assumption. “Paloma didn’t die. And it was a breakup. Not all that recent either.”
“Still sounds like it sucked. Custody crap is no joke.” He put another pan down with a thump. “My old man didn’t give a shit about visitation. And my sister’s ex barely pays the support the court ordered him to, but he sure as hell had something to say about her going to Alaska for the summer.”