27. Chapter 27
After Graham passed out in a naked, wasted heap on the bed, Lindsey ran to the bathroom to throw up.
She couldn’t remember the walk back to the hotel. How many mint juleps did she finish? She was naked, shivering. The air was hot, and the floor and wall were cold on her skin—the opposite of Graham’s body, slick with sweat, a few minutes ago, and Jase’s hands on her hips while they danced.
Dancing with Jase had been unexpected. Strange, considering the dream about his dad, but not unwelcome. She understood how women got roped in by a boyish smile on chiseled cheeks, strong, capable hands, and muscles that made mountains out of the old T-shirts he wore.
Graham’s been through a lot these past couple of months. I don’t expect things to be great.
Were they ever?
Jase asked as if it was a totally normal question to ask his brother’s girlfriend, a woman he hardly knew. Of course they were great. Once. Otherwise, what was she doing there?
On the bathroom floor, gut-sick, with an aching pelvis and the first beats of a headache.
She stood, flushed the toilet, and gingerly crept out of the bathroom.
In the dark, Lindsey scraped her panties off the floor and picked through her suitcase for a tank top.
Her body ached, foreshadowing tomorrow’s agony and a wicked case of bed spins tonight.
She just wanted to feel alive for once, like the city outside the window. Was that so wrong?
From the room’s balcony, she braved a few breaths of the French Quarter until a breeze carrying the scent of warm alcohol and horse droppings knocked her sideways, threatening to send another round of vomit over the railing onto a group of women smoking cigarettes below.
Women who were suddenly hollering as if she had vomited on them, not covered her mouth just in time to keep it down. One of them whistled. Another said she didn’t need beads to flash her boobs.
Lindsey peered over the railing and found the source of their excitement. Jase had come out of the bar across the street. Alone.
He wouldn’t have to stay that way. A brunette wearing a flashing shot glass on a beaded necklace approached him with her phone and he smiled for a selfie. Another lifted the edge of her thong out of her shorts. Lindsey gagged, only partially from the alcohol.
Rather than watch Jase choose his company for the night, she turned to pay the toilet another visit but wasn’t quick enough. Jase spotted her. Their eyes met briefly, then his surprised gaze swept down the length of her body, lingering just below her waist—
On the pants she wasn’t wearing.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She ducked back inside her room and nearly collided with Graham.
“What are you doing?” he asked with a sleep-roughened voice.
“Nothing,” she said a little too quickly. “Getting air.”
He yawned, scratched behind his balls, and padded in bare feet to the bathroom. A moment later his pee stream hit the toilet water.
And his phone buzzed and lit up the room.
From the lock screen Lindsey saw that it was 1:17 in the morning. Too late for just anyone to be texting. She also saw the urgent, all-caps message from someone named Ellie.
CALL ME.
The words sent a jolt down her spine. Ellie. Ellie. Why was it familiar?
The toilet flushed and she flew into bed, whipping the sheet across her body and closing her eyes. Graham padded back across the room and picked up his phone from the bedside table. Lindsey expected him to make the call. An all-caps request at one in the morning was surely urgent.
After what felt like an interminably long time, Graham set the phone down and climbed into bed.