Page 5 of Stunner (Whiskey Dolls 3)

“I drank alot.”

“I know. I can smell it on you. Let’s keep you away from all open flames, yeah?”

She let out a little giggle and another hiccup as she teetered through the gravel parking lot on her pencil-thin heels. “That was funny.” She poked me in the ribs. “You’re funny. Who would’ve guessed?”

Not me, I thought. “Let’s get you home.”

She pulled up short, forcing me to stop with her or risk her falling flat on her face. “I can’t go home,” she said, her jovial mood suddenly gone as she sniffled. The glassiness in her eyes didn’t have anything to do with the booze, and I felt my throat get tight. “I don’t have a home. That’s Jackson’s home, and I never ever want to see him as long as I live. I can’t go back there.”

“Okay. It’s okay,” I started quickly, desperate to stop the tears before they could fully start. I wasn’t too proud to admit that I didn’t handle women crying very well. It was the sole reason my sister got her way every goddamn time we argued about something when we were younger, or, hell, even to this day. “You don’t have to go back there. I promise.”

She sniffled again, using her skirt to mop up the few tears that had managed to leak out. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, good.” She looked up at me with big doe eyes the color of warm amber, ringed with a band of goldish green. “Owen?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

And she sure as hell did. Right on my shoes.

3

ASHER

Iwas jolted into consciousness by something hot, wet, and slimy sliding up the center of my face from the bottom of my chin all the way up to my hairline. My eyelids popped open in shock, my vision blurry with sleep and gunked-up mascara that was trying to mold my bottom and top lashes together. I sucked in a gasp, ready to let out a shriek of terror at the hairy monster in front of me when its tongue popped back out and raked across my face again, inadvertently Frenching me and leaving a trail of slime in its wake.

“Oh, God. That’s so gross!” I flailed my arms, trying to push the creature back, but it seemed like my movement only hyped it up more. “Back, monster. Jeez.”

Just then, it let out a bark that sounded downright giddy.

I blinked until my vision cleared, finally bringing the hairy beast into clear view. Sure enough, it was a dog, and not just any dog. As much as I didn’t like Owen Shields, only because the jerk didn’t likeme, I’d been in love with his dog from the first moment I laid eyes on those big floppy ears and that lion’s mane of fiery gold fur. There had been times during my relationship with Jackson that I’d contemplated dognapping. I even tried talking him into stealing the pup for me, but he shot that ideadown with a laugh, saying offhandedly how he’d never allow pets in his house, despite knowing how much I wanted a dog. I told myself that if Owen was even a smidge as cold toward the rambunctious puppy as he was toward me, he’d be a terrible dog owner. Only I’d seen them together too many times and knew that for a bald-faced lie. The icy bastard worshipped that damn dog.

“Gus? What the hell are you doing here?” At my acknowledgement of him, his excitement went into hyperdrive, and he started licking wherever he could reach. “Gross, stop! What has your daddy been feeding you, huh? Roadkill? God, your breath is foul.”

“Bet he’d say the same to you. You know, if he could talk.”

I let out a yelp that made my brain rattle in my skull and my stomach rumble unpleasantly, like a liter of Coke that had been shaken up and placed out in the blistering sun, just waiting to explode.

Lying back on the mattress, I closed my eyes and threw an arm over my face to block out the light. “Oh, that’s not good. Nope. Oh, shit.”

“You all right?”

“Not even close.” I took several deep breaths, counting to three on each inhale and exhale until the Circ Du Sole performance happening in my stomach finally settled. It wasn’t easy, now that my hangover was beating through the grogginess and confusion. I could practically smell the whiskey seeping through my skin, making the nausea even worse. “Owen? What’s going on? Why are you here?” Not that I was all that sure whereherewas. From the brief glimpse I got, the only thing I recognized about my surroundings was Gus.

“I’ll give you a second to try and piece last night together...princess.”

That name was the trigger needed to make everything from the past several hours come spilling back. Being jilted at the altar. Taking off so I didn’t have to face the humiliationofbeing jilted at the altar. Finding a roadside bar that catered heavily toward biker. Eating the best burger in the whole world. Owen tracking me down. And whiskey,allthe whiskey. Not the good stuff, either, but the melt-the-lining-of-your-stomach-and-esophagus whiskey. Oh, the regret.

My stomach roiled again.

“Don’t you throw up on my sheets now,” Owen warned, his tone holding no sympathy whatsoever.

I didn’t have it in me just then to care about the fact I was in his bed. “I’m not going to, you ass.” At least I didn’t think I would. Once I was sure, I lowered my arm and sat up slowly, carefully, skewering him with my most killing look that was interrupted when Gus jumped up into my lap and attacked my face again.

“Gus, off the bed,” Owen said in a tone just stern enough to make the overeager hairball obey instantly. His tongue retracted back into his mouth, and he leaped down to sit right at the side of the bed, only inches from me, his tail swishing across the floor like a happy little broom, his body trembling with an abundance of energy. “How much of last night do you remember?”

---