Page 771 of One More Kiss

Riley

I wake up,but my vision seems out of focus. I press my face into the pillow beneath my head and am overwhelmed by a deep, manly scent. What the hell? My brain seems to click on slow cylinders, and there’s a splintering of pain forming in my head. I force my eyes open and flutter them repeatedly to focus.

Finally, my vision clears, so I roll my eyes from left to right.

Fuck… this is not my house.

My eyes go wide and I sit up in a haste. The room spins and my stomach churns. Okay, no quick movements. I have no idea where I am, and the last thing I need to do is vomit in some random man’s house.

Careful not to move too fast, I take in my surroundings. The bedroom I’m in has plush furnishings, hardwood and leather. I run my fingers across the silky sheets. Wherever and whoever I’m with, they have money. At least I didn’t wake up in some trailer park with a kidney missing.

I kick the sheet covering me off, and that’s when I notice that I’m naked. My mouth goes dry, and I don’t know what to think, or even how to react. Oh my God! Clearly, I drank too much at the party. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself or the company. What the hell happened?

I need to figure all of this out, but my bladder tells me my first stop will be the restroom, whether I like it or not. Wrapping the sheet around me, I walk over to the attached bathroom. The dress I had on last night is thrown over the side of the tub, covered in alcohol-soaked vomit. Gross! My beautiful emerald dress. Groaning, I step across the bathroom to the toilet.

Once I finish peeing and washing my hands, I look inside the medicine cabinet, hoping to find some Tylenol. Eureka! I find some Advil and take two pills out of the bottle.

My nose wrinkles, and I follow the coffee smell through the house with the sheet wrapped around me, clasped in my hands. So far, nothing looks familiar, and there isn’t anything giving me any indication of whose house I’m at. This is getting weirder by the minute.

But whoever brought me here has to be someone that cares about me. Otherwise, I’d probably be somewhere in a ditch. Where is my purse? I need to call Ross.

I walk down a long hall and enter a huge living and dining room that opens up into the kitchen. The open concept allows me to see the front door from the kitchen, where I find a fresh pot of coffee with two empty cups sitting next to it. I should probably be more concerned with trying to figure out where I am than having a morning joe. But my brain will probably work a lot better if I have some caffeine.

I take it upon myself to pour a cup. I throw the two Advil tablets into my mouth and take a large sip of the coffee. It’s hot but I’m able to swallow them down without burning my throat. Hopefully, this will take my headache away.

Without warning, the front door swings open. Sunlight pours in, highlighting three large figures in the entryway. Startled, I jump back, spilling the hot coffee all over my chest. A high-pitched yelp rips from my throat, and I drop the cup along with the sheet that was wrapped around me.

The cup shatters against the kitchen tiles with an ear-piercing crash. Then the entire room goes deathly silent. Frozen in place, I am mortified when I realize it’s Nicholas, William, and another man in the house with me. All three are staring at me with their eyes bulging out of their heads.

An eternity passes before I finally snap out of it and get my useless legs to move again. Thoroughly shocked and embarrassed, I run my naked ass back into the bedroom that I came from and lock the door behind me.

Shit!I’m at Nick’s house! This is bad. This is really bad! In my moment of panic, I notice my purse and shoes sitting on an accent chair in the room’s corner. I run over to the chair and retrieve my cell phone out of my purse.

A ball of emotions swells up inside of my soul, and tears stream down my face. This is it. All that I’ve worked so hard for, gone in an instant. I have thrown it all away. I’m definitely going to lose my job. I’m trying to call Ross, but my hands are shaking too badly.

“Okay, Riley, get it together. Calm down,” I tell myself.

Finally, I relax enough to stop my hands from erratically shaking and I dial Ross’s number again. He answers, and I immediately begin ranting into his ear.

“Riley! Hey, hey, hey, calm down. What’s going on, sweets? Talk to me.”

“Ross?”

“Yes, sweetheart. What’s the problem?”

I try to get the story out, but am too upset. I need to calm down. Ross waits patiently on the other end while I gain my composure and catch my breath enough to speak clearly. I fight through my tears and begin to speak as coherently as I can.

“Ross, I need you to come and pick me up.”

“Well, where are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m at Nick’s house.”

“As in your boss, Nick? Nicholas Brooks?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus! Okay, sweetheart, well, why are you crying? What’s going on? Has he hurt you? Do I need to call the police?”

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