Epilogue
His head felt as if someone had hit him with a bat, and it wasn”t easy to lift it off the pillow. The bed felt different, and he forced his eyes open to glance around the room. The light streaming in from the large window caused him to slam his eyes shut.
Gage ‘Smash’ Hodder groaned as he rolled over away from the window. He hadn’t felt this hungover in years because he’d stopped drinking excessively ten years ago. Before that, he would get wasted every Friday and not sober up until Monday morning.
He met his boss at a club in Alberta the week after getting arrested for hacking into a government website to see if he could do it. Keith ‘Rusty’ O’Connor found Gage at the bar and offered him a job, but only if he cut down the partying.
“If you stop getting smashed every weekend, I’ll guarantee you a job you’ll love and pay you what you’re worth,” Keith said to him that night.
It was also how he got the nickname Smash, but only a few people knew that. He always told people he got it because of the way he could smash the computer keys, and most people believed him.
However, now he lay in a strange bed, definitely hung over but couldn’t remember drinking. As a matter of fact, he didn’t remember anything about how he got where he was. He sat up in the bed and lifted the blanket.
“I’m fucking naked,” Smash muttered to himself.
He ran his hands down his face and scanned the room. It was definitely a hotel and not a cheap one. As he stretched to glance out the window, he heard the door of the room open. Smash pulled the sheet up as a woman came into the room.
“Oh, look who finally woke up.” She smiled as she held out a large cup. “I figured you’d want coffee.”
Smash took the drink and sipped carefully. He held back the moan as the rich, dark liquid slid down his throat. He couldn’t remember coffee ever tasting so good; after another sip, he placed the paper cup on the nightstand and looked around for his clothes.
“Ummm… I’m pretty sure I wasn’t naked when I came in here,” Smash asked the woman as she sat on the foot of the bed.
She went to the closet and pulled out a hanger with a dark suit and tie hanging around the collar of the jacket. Smash never wore suits unless it was a formal function, but he hadn’t been to one in over a month when one of his co-workers got married.
“I hung it up so it wouldn’t be all wrinkled.” She lay the suit next to him on the bed.
“Thanks,” Smash said.
“You seem confused.” The woman walked into the bathroom.
“Yeah, a little. I don’t remember anything about last night,” Smash admitted.
“I believe that. You were quite intoxicated by the time you got here. I managed to get you in bed before you fell over,” she said from the bathroom while Smash searched the pockets of his suit for his phone.
“Where exactly are we?” Smash asked.
“The Fairmount Hotel,” she replied.
Well, at least he knew he was in St. John’s, but how and why, he had no idea. He also had no clue who the woman was in the bathroom. That was something he never experienced before. He didn’t do one-night stands and only slept with women he’d dated seriously.
“You have a late checkout, so we’ll get breakfast first.”
The woman didn’t seem to know he was drawing a complete blank from the previous night. Would he be an asshole if he asked for her name because his mind was a complete blank?
“I could eat,” Smash told her.
“Good, it’s already ordered and should be here in a few minutes. You have enough time to shower.” She walked out of the bathroom and smiled.
He had to admit she was beautiful, and the dress she wore hugged her body in all the right places. She had ample curves, which was what he liked, but there wasn’t a spark of recognition when he looked into her eyes.
“Is there a robe I can pull on?” He asked.
He didn’t care what happened the night before. Smash didn’t feel comfortable walking around naked in front of a stranger. She raised an eyebrow at the request and then chuckled as she tossed a white terry cloth robe to him.
“You seem a lot more modest this morning.” She smiled.
“I’m sorry. I don’t normally do this, but last night is a blank.” Smash struggled to pull on the robe.
“You don’t remember anything?” Her eyes widened.
Smash felt horrible. He wasn’t sure if she was hurt or angry that he didn’t remember her. He had never used a woman in his life, but Smash had a feeling he’d done something.
“I’m sorry, no,” Smash admitted. “Who are you, by the way?”
“You really don’t remember,” she walked around the bed and sat next to him.
“No.” Smash shook his head.
“My name is Yvette, and I’m your wife.”