Page 65 of Wren's Winter

What a mess I was.

Draining the second can, I went to set it on the floor beside the couch, and it slipped from my fingers, rolling away. Laying on my side, I glared at the errant can where it rested under the coffee table. One eye shut, I reached out for the can as far as my arm can go. My fingers brushed the can, but it rolled further away, the slippery thing. Again, I reached out, my nails brushing the can before my body tilts and I’m falling off the couch and onto the floor. Maizie jumped down, licking my forehead and nudging me.

“I’m getting up,” I slurred, pulling myself up onto my hands and knees. From the new angle, I was able to reach under the table and grab the wayward can. With one eye to focus, I read the back of it. Oh, geez. That explains it.

“Did you know there are three glasses of wine in one of these?” I asked the dog, showing her the can and holding up three fingers. She cocked her head to the side and stared at me. “Yeah, me nee-fer.”

The can clunked loudly on the coffee table. I used both hands to pull myself up and onto the couch. Sinking into the soft fabric, I fell to the side, lying down. Once again, Maizie lay beside me, curling up at my stomach. “I’ll get up in a minute, and we’ll go to bed, okay, Maizie Girl?”

The soft heat of her furry body and the heaviness of my eyelids were the last thing I remembered as I drifted off.

The light was wrong, too bright on my face when the morning sun shouldn’t be able to shine directly through the window to my right. Dragging my face across the rough fabric, my eyes squeezed shut. Stale and gritty, I ran my dry tongue over my teeth. Two cans of wine were the worst idea I ever had. With one eye open, I saw Maizie curled up beside me on the couch. Right, because I didn’t make it up the stairs to the bed. Okay, two cans of wine, dognapping, and sleeping on a cheap futon were the worst ideas I ever had.

As I stumbled to my feet and into the bathroom, Maizie followed behind me, her little nails tapping on the wood floor. I made quick work of scrubbing my face and brushing my teeth if only to get last night’s mistakes from soaking in worse.

My hair was a knotty mess that took far too long to untangle enough to be semi-presentable. My aunties used to tell me I was too tender-headed, but it hadn’t hurt to comb my hair out in years. Until today. I felt like I was seven sitting at the table while my Aunt Dee raked and pulled at my scalp to get my curls to cooperate. Everything hurt, from my toenails to my eyebrows. Retreating to the couch, I collapsed on my butt, slapping a warm washcloth over my face and breathing in deeply. Boom, boom, boom. My brain battered against my skull, and I cursed the second can of wine, cursed Buck for this trip, and cursed my own foolish mind for thinking that what I felt for Adrian could have been real.

Summer had been right. When was I ever attracted to a nice guy? My picker was definitely broken if I thought I could be different for a guy like Adrian. I knew what he was. It was obvious by the way he got his dog, the surprise in his friends when I was brought around. Obvious to everyone but me, we’d never be more than a fling. Once again, I was silly enough to think that I could be an exception when all I would ever be was the rule.

A low rumble of an engine from far away sounded, and I pulled the wet washcloth off my face to angle my face to the window. Creeping down Sitka Lane was Adrian’s white truck. Chunks of snow piled on the hood slid off as he parked the truck in front of his house. Ducking down beneath the window, I sat on my knees to peek out across the street. I watched as Adrian walked up his steps, hand on the knob, before shaking his head and glancing back at my cabin.

“Crap.” I ducked down low, hoping he didn’t catch me watching him. Lying flat on my back, I held my breath as if that would help the situation. Counting by threes, I tried to calm my erratic heartbeats. Instead, they grew louder, steadier.

Nope, that wasn’t my heart beating loud in my ears. That was Adrian’s footsteps as he climbed the porch and knocked on the front door.

From the other end of the couch, Maizie gazed at me with an expression saying, Come on, don’t be a coward.

“Easy for you to say,” I grumbled, climbing off the couch. In the ten-foot walk from the couch to the front door, I tried to smooth my wild hair.

Opening the door, I found him standing there, a large paper cup in each hand. “Hey.”

I blinked at him a few times, taking in his hat pulled sloppily over his hair, to the day-old stubble, to his rumpled clothes, to his... Was that a black eye?

“What happened to you?”

A paper cup in hand, he touched the corner of his eye with his pinky. “Oh, this. It’s no big deal. You should see the other guy.”

“I don’t think I want to.”

He smirked at my comment. Even with his black eyes and what appeared to be a scrape on his neck, he was still unworldly handsome, still devastating me with his gaze. “I was hoping we could talk?”

“Talk,” I repeated back stupidly.

“Yeah, I brought you a drink. Lavender London Fog, right?” He handed the drink over to me, the insignia of the local coffee shop on the side. I tried not to let the pang of tenderness go deeper. Not that wild that he remembered my drink order. No big deal.

My hand wrapped around the warm cup, and I nodded at him. “Right.”

He stuck his free hand in his pocket and glanced down sheepishly. “Yesterday, before I said all those messed up things, you wanted to talk, and I didn’t let you. Can I come in?”

I opened the door fully for him. He walked in, so close I could smell the warm woodsy scent of him and feel his heat. He turned to face me, dark circles under his eyes. Maybe he slept as poorly as I did. Though there was no way he drank as much as I did.

“You leave today?” he asked.

I took a curing sip of my drink. He even remembered I liked a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. “I have to be out by eleven. Though I don’t know how I’ll drive with all the snow.”

“It’s pretty bad. I had to go in four-low in a few spots to get up here in time.”

“In time?” I asked, wishing I could keep the hope out of my voice. Did this mean…no. It might not mean a thing.

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