Page 73 of Bloom

Never again.

Never evereveragain as long as I live will I drink like that—will I drink, period. No matter how bad things get, I will not be him.

Shame burns my veins—or maybe that’s tequila—as I slowly rise onto my knees. A blanket hanging heavy around my shoulders, I squint through one eye, jolting when I’m not where I expect to be.

It takes a long, anticipatory moment to put a name to my location. Partly because the cacophony in my brain makes it hard to think. Mostly because I’m really,reallyhoping I’ll wake up for real any second now and be back on the sofa instead of on a king-size mattress.

Bile burns my throat as I scramble out of bed, eyes wide and heart pounding. How did I get here? God, please don’t say I drunkenly sleepwalked my way into Hunter’s bed—that would be par for the humiliating course.

Pushing my tangled hair back from my face, I suck in a couple of deep, mildly nauseating breaths as I wrack my brain. Someone… someone carried me in here—I thought it was a dream, but evidently not. Someone as big and soft as the bed they tucked me into, who left their warmth and scent behind.

In the wee hours of the morning, sometime before he left for work, Hunter picked me up off the sofa and put me in his bed.

I’ve never been so happy to be alone, so grateful that there’s no one around to witness the flush that pinkens every inch of my skin. Before the meresightof the bed makes me burst into flames, I avert my gaze, and it lands on the nightstand.

The bottle of Gatorade sitting makes me whimper. A cruel compliment to the pounding in my skull, my mouth and throat are so dry, it’s borderline painful. Careful not to upset my rolling stomach, I reach for the bottle. As I pick it up, something detaches from the bottom—a Post-It flutters to the floor. My knees ache as I crouch to grab it, reminding me why I’m here in the first place, but I hastily shove that thought aside as I squint at the neat scrawl on bright orange paper.

drink it all and take two.

Something funny knots in my chest as I snag the Advil container sitting on the table too, doing as the note says and washing down two pills with a gulp of Gatorade. The plastic crinkles as I chug the blue liquid right down to the last drop, and it’s a desperate thirst for more that drives me from the bedroom. Slowas molasses, I creep around the bed, reaching for the doorknob, but pausing halfway there.

I doubt anyone is here—the alarm clock by the bed reads early morning, the busiest time of day on the ranch. Yet still, as I glance down at the borrowed tee covering my body and imagine, with a wince-inducing grimace what the rest of me looks like, a sudden bout of self consciousness grips me.

Don’t be silly, Caroline,I chide myself silently.You can’t look any worse than you did last night.

Still, I back up a couple of steps. I start turning towards the ensuite I cleaned up in last night. I abruptly freeze when I hear a door slam close, and then heavy footsteps stomp my way too quickly for me to do anything but pray I don’t look as bad as I feel.

The bedroom door swings open and I reel backwards, trying and failing miserably to look casual with my back against the wall, my arms crossed over my chest. Honestly, I can’t tell who’s more uncomfortable; me or the hulking man filling the doorway.

Hunter does one tangible visual sweep of my body before he glances at the bed. Gaze lingering on the twisted sheets, he clears his throat. Drags a hand through his hair. Stares at me again.

I glance at the bed. Clear my throat. Drag a hand through my hair. Stare at him again.

Neither of us are responsible for breaking the silence. A lucky thing, too, considering I have no intention to, and it doesn't seem like he’s too keen on it either.

Excited yelps echo off the walls as Herc barrels towards me, his small but growing body slamming off my shins. I drop to my knees, a smile stretching my lips as I pepper kisses of gratitude all over his sweet little face—a yapping puppy is a hell of an icebreaker, and an even better conversation starter.

“What’re you doing here?” I croon at the pup trying his best to burrow beneath my skin, knowing it won’t be him that answers.

Sure enough, it’s not. “Thought you could use the company.”

That’s nice of him. Really nice. A little unnecessary, though, considering I don’t plan on being here long enough to need company. In fact, I’m hoping to flee any minute, even if I have to walk home.

“I brought you breakfast.”

My stomach growls, the little traitor.

“If you want,” Hunter adds, and I swear I don’t imagine how he stumbles over the words a little. Like he’s nervous I’ll refuse—like I have the willpower to give up a free breakfast, no matter how mind-numbingly awkward it might end up being. And I don’t think I imagine the flash of relief across that handsome, rugged face when I nod either.

I wait until Hunter disappears into the kitchen before rising with Herc cradled in my arms. Releasing a rib-rattling breath, I brush my cheek against a silky, floppy ear. “Get ready to be the buffer of the century, little guy.”

I choose to take his teeth nipping my chin as a binding agreement.

I take the liberty of stealing a pair of sweatpants—and tying the waistband in a comically-sized knot to keep them from falling down—before creeping out of the bedroom. With my eyes on Herc’s squirming form, I don’t see Hunter watching me, but I certainly feel it.

Holding the brunt of his attention is like being struck by lightning. It has every nerve ending writhing, every ounce ofawareness my body possesses jolting to life. It’s unsettling and so damn unnerving, and I try to avoid the full force of it, to avoid eye contact for as long as possible, keeping my attention on Herc as I put him down and he slopes over to the—

I frown at the dog bed tucked in the corner of the living room. Did I see that last night? I don’t think I did. I would’ve commented on it, surely.

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