Page 4 of Hot and Bothered
I buried my face in my hands. Two of my once-perfect nails had broken off and three more were chipped.
I took in a shuddering breath.
What the hell was I going to do now?
I peeked through my fingers at the wedding dress. I looked down at my bare legs. I was wearing men’s boxer shorts. The collar of a soft, oversized t-shirt slipped down over one shoulder.
Someone had undressed me.
I knew how hard it had been to get into that wedding dress. I couldn’t imagine how long it had taken to get it off, especially when the person wearing it was unconscious.
I still had no idea where I was, but I had an inkling. The memory of a smooth voice and warm arms had settled into the back of my mind.
I ambled out of the sheets and padded over to the closed door on bare feet with trepidation. I turned the knob and found myself at the end of a short hallway leading into a living room. There was the sound of rustling and someone murmuring in the kitchen off to the side.
People always talked aboutthe walk of shame.I was going to outclass that a hundredfold.
I made my way down the hallway with tiny baby steps. I finally got to the corner where the living room met the kitchen. My shoulders hunched over on themselves as I braced myself.
I peeked around the corner.
Handsome Evan was there. His hair fell over his face as he looked down at a tablet, a stylus in hand. He was clean-shaven. That smooth jawline called to me. A distant part of me, deep inside, itched to feel it against my palm.
Last night, I’d drunkenly ranted to Evan for who knows how long. I remembered bits and pieces, but I couldn’t remember everything.
What had I told him? How much had I babbled?
My stomach roiled and turned sour. I was going to be sick. Was it the hangover or the humiliation?
I cleared my throat.
Evan looked up. Surprise crossed his face as he flicked his gaze to the clock on the wall, then back to me.
“Hey there,” he said. “Alice, right? I didn’t expect you to be up this early.”
I winced and brought a hand to my head. Why was he shouting?
“Sorry.” He lowered his voice. “Bad headache?”
I nodded without speaking.
“I’ll get you something for that.” He put the tablet down and took a bottle down from on top of the fridge, then poured a glass of water. He tried to hand them to me, but I was still cringing, half-hidden behind the corner.
“You can come sit down.” His eyes glinted with an amused sort of pity.
I shuffled into the kitchen and sat down gingerly across from him. He put the bottle of pain reliever and the glass of water in the middle of the table. I took it with shaky fingers and downed three pills. The water was refreshing, and I realized how thirsty I was. I chugged the whole thing down in huge gulps. I didn’t even care that I was making unladylike noises.
When the glass was drained, I let out an exhausted sigh and brought my hands to my face, rubbing at my forehead.
“Do you want some breakfast?” Evan asked, waving to his own half-empty plate. “Bacon, eggs? There’s still some left.”
My stomach roiled again as I swallowed back nausea.
“Maybe just toast, then,” Evan said.
He pushed his leftover breakfast over to me. His fingers were long but sturdy looking. His palm was so large it would have engulfed mine if he were to take it in his.
“Thank you,” I said in a croaking voice as I took a piece of buttered toast from his plate.
