Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I wiped sweat from my brow and gingerly crouched on my heels, afraid to move and start the cycle again. Every time I thought the worst was over, I ended up racing to the toilet to puke my guts out. I did feel better than I had earlier, though. At least that was something.
Was this really tequila’s fault? Had I eaten last night? Had I eaten something bad? I couldn’t remember.
My mind was fuzzy as fuck. I couldn’t think while my stomach was churning, but I was beginning to register that nothing was familiar. This wasn’t my bathroom or Grams’s or MK’s or Niall’s or— Shit. Where am I?
I licked my dry lips, clutching the counter as I slowly…oh, so slowly…stood, squinting at my reflection.
Geez, I looked like hell’s newest arrival. My face was ghostly pale, and my hair could have doubled as a bird’s nest. I washed my hands and splashed water on my cheeks, begging my brain to cooperate so I could think.
I’d met my friends at the bar. It had been fun and nice to see everyone. MK had seemed good and—
Knock knock
“You okay in there?”
I froze.
Oh. Fuck.
“Uh, yeah. All good. Thanks,” I rasped.
“Can I come in?”
“Just a sec.” I dried my hands on the towel, yanking it off the bar and wrapping it around my waist.
I never slept naked, and that was just one of the mysteries piling up. I wildly scanned the bathroom for clues, zeroing in on the unzipped leather toiletry bag at the far end of the counter. Not mine, but it belonged to a man for sure. I snooped for a prescription bottle or something with a name, sighing at the lack of helpful evidence. There was nothing here but toothpaste, deodorant, and fancy-looking cologne that smelled like—
The cowboy.
Oh, wow. If something sexy had happened between us and I couldn’t fucking remember, I was going to be seriously pissed at the universe. I examined my reflection for hickeys or bite marks or anything conclusive.
Had we fucked? No, there was no way I’d have forgotten that. And my ass didn’t hurt. Maybe I’d fucked him and maybe I’d been a terrible lay. Or maybe—
“Denny?”
“Hang on.”
I stole a smidge of toothpaste and finger-brushed my teeth, rinsing my mouth and gargling till I felt as if I could communicate without singeing anyone’s eyebrows off.
I didn’t feel even halfway human, but I couldn’t put off the reckoning any longer.
So I opened the door, stepped out, and…there he was, sleep-rumpled with messy hair, a pillow crease on his stubbled cheek, sleepy eyes, and a hesitant smile.
He stepped around me to use the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving me to process puzzle pieces and make sense of my current situation.
His name was…Hank.
Hank.
Good. And I’d met him at the bar. No, in the parking lot. He’d had a proposition. I’d followed him upstairs and he’d given me a water bottle, and—
Oh, fuck. I think I propositioned him.
Ew.
I was a lowly, gross worm. The worst of the worst.
“How are you feeling?” Hank asked, joining me in the room a few minutes later.
He poured water into the coffeemaker on the dresser and fussed with the complimentary cups, glancing over at me expectantly.
“Uh, bad. Very bad,” I admitted, rubbing my nape as I finally met his gaze. “I don’t know how to apologize.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “We’ve all been there a time or two.”
“Not me. Not like that. I almost feel like I was drugged or—”
“I did not drug you,” he interrupted sharply.
I held up a hand, nodding slightly to preserve the integrity of my gray matter. “I know. I know. Unfortunately, it’s all coming back to me, and I remember almost everything. I don’t think embarrassed is a strong enough word.”
Hank’s lips twitched with humor. “You were kind of funny.”
“Doubtful. Did you hold my hair while I…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. It was too mortifying.
He nodded.
Oh. My. God.
“Do you take sugar or cream in your coffee?” Hank asked as if this wasn’t a weird-ass way to start the day.
“Just black is good.”
“Here you go.”
I thanked him for the coffee and sat on the edge of the mattress, briefly thinking it was inappropriate to sit on someone’s bed uninvited. But maybe the rules changed if you’d staged an unintentional takeover. I winced at the lumpy pillow and the thin blanket strewn over the nearby sofa. He’d probably slept with his long legs flung over the armrest. Poor bastard.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I’ll pay for your room and—”
Hank sat at the desk chair, scooting it to face me. “That’s not necessary.”
“I took your bed,” I scoffed, cradling the cup in my hands like a wounded bird. I didn’t know a nice way to ask, but I had to know. “I see that you slept on the sofa, but…did we do anything?”