Chapter 6
Hungover with a Heartthrob
I wake to sunlight streaming through my curtains, my head pounding in protest. I cover my eyes, squinting as I attempt to sit up.
I groan as the room tilts violently, then flop back onto the mattress.
There’s a reason I rarely drink, and I think my body is punishing me for believing I could toss back shots like water and not face the consequences—namely, the jackhammer rattling my skull.
Fun times.
My memory is hazy, but flashes of my misguided quest to lose my virginity play on a loop in my head.
The elbow to the nose. The blood. The shattered glass and spilled whiskey…
Gosh. And just when I thought my night couldn’t get worse, Walker showed up.
Why is he always around to witness my most embarrassing moments?
Everything after that is still a blur, reduced to disjoined flashes refusing to line up.
I roll over to get more comfortable and notice my phone charging on the nightstand.
Huh, that’s odd.
I figure I would’ve crashed hard when I got home and not have thought to plug it in.
That’s when I notice a glass of water and two white pills sitting beside it.
Apparently, drunk me is far more responsible than I gave her credit for.
I prop myself on one elbow, pick up the pills, and wash them down with a long sip of water.
My only complaint is that I didn’t think to take my bra off before getting into bed.
I’m wearing an oversized tee that reaches my thighs.
Normally I’d just pair it with underwear and skip the bra.
Hard to complain when I somehow managed to make it home in one piece without any recollection of how I got here.
I check my messages to see that I have multiple missed calls and dozens of unread messages. I open the group chat first, expecting updates on whatever the girls got up to last night while I was busy drinking myself into oblivion.
Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat
Charlie: Word on the street is Birdie left Blue Moon with Walker.
Briar: He was probably giving her a ride home.
Wren: It’s no secret she’s a lightweight.
Charlie: My source says they were getting pretty cozy.
Briar: I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Charlie: The whole town has already shipped them as Balker.
I sit up in bed, fighting back the wave of nausea washing over me.
Briar: They’re not even an item and have a couple name? So unfair.
Charlie: You and Jensen have one too.
Briar: How do I not know this? What is it?
Charlie: Brensen.
Briar: Aww. That’s so cute!
Wren: Birdie, I have to come right out and ask…
Wren: Are you dating Walker?!
Briar: You two would make a cute couple.
I blink at my phone, convinced I’ve slipped into an alternate reality where my friends have turned into overzealous paparazzi.
Charlie: Have you forgotten your brother only has one-night stands?
Briar: You’re right. Birdie is too good for him.
Wren: She’s a virgin. There’s no way she had a one-night stand.
I drag a hand down my face, letting out a long breath as I flop back onto the mattress.
I’m mortified that while I was passed out, they were casually dissecting my nonexistent sex life.
If last night had gone as planned, I would finally have some experience under my belt. Instead, I’m still a clueless virgin.
Briar: I called Walker. It went straight to voicemail.
Wren: Birdie didn’t answer either.
Charlie: Finally! It’s about damn time she got some action.
Briar: I don’t need that image in my head.
Charlie: What? We’re all thinking it.
I’m halfway through replying when a muffled noise comes from the other side of the room.
A few seconds later, I hear it again and set my phone down to investigate.
What if an animal wandered in through the doggie door while I was asleep?
I should’ve listened when Earl told me to bolt it shut at night.
I crawl to the other side of the bed, cautiously peering over the mattress, half expecting an opossum to be rummaging through my dirty laundry. Instead, I freeze when I find Walker stretched out on the floor with a blanket covering him, snoring softly as he shifts in his sleep.
Holy guacamole, Walker Halstead slept over at my house.
Amid the throbbing in my head, more fragments surface—Walker driving me home, me vomiting on his boots the minute we got in the house, him holding my hair back over the toilet as I babbled about how hot he was.
And to make matters worse, I’m pretty sure I told him I’m a virgin and then begged him to be my first.
Oh my gosh. I drop my head in my hands and silently scream. He’ll never look at me the same. Curse those darn tequila shots. They gave me more liquid courage than I had any right to, and I swear I’m never touching alcohol again.
I decide the best course of action is to slip out of my room and hide out somewhere else until he wakes up and leaves. Avoiding him long-term could be a challenge since we see each other at least once a week, but that’s a problem for future Birdie.
Maybe this is my sign to become a hermit.
Earl could deliver my groceries and drive me to visit my mama.
It’s not a terrible plan, except Briar and Charlie would riot if I skipped our coffee dates.
Plus, there are the animals… Ugh, I need a better solution, but for now, I have to get out of here before Walker wakes up.
I move to the far side of the bed and slide off, tiptoeing across the room, grimacing at every creak of the floorboards. The door is only a few feet from him, so I approach cautiously and crack it open slowly. I’m halfway across the threshold when his deep, gravelly voice stops me in my tracks.
“You sneaking out on me?” I spin around to find Walker awake and smirking at me.
“What did you expect when I woke up and found you in my bedroom uninvited?” I retort.
“Oh, you invited me all right. You were just busy multitasking while hurling into the rosebushes out front,” he answers smugly. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before going on another solo drinking spree, huh?”
I lean against the doorway with my arms folded. “Honestly, I’m tempted to go for round two tonight. Eight shots, a cocktail, and half a beer and I’m still standing. That’s impressive, don’t you think?”
There’s no way I’m admitting that I’ve officially sworn off drinking forever. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.
Walker tilts his head. “Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetheart, but after your fourth shot you were drinking straight ginger ale. And that cocktail? Just cranberry juice with a splash of sparkling water.”
I gasp, stunned. “How could Ryker do that to me? He was supposed to have my—” The rest of my thought catches in my throat when Walker pushes the blanket off him and stands.
Sweet mercy.
He’s wearing nothing but dark-wash Wranglers.
I can’t seem to look away, completely caught off guard by the sight.
The man is barefoot and shirtless, his frame rugged and his muscles honed.
Heat rises to my cheeks as I take in every ripple and curvature of his bare chest, a light dusting of dark hair trailing over the firm planes of his torso.
“Lost for words?” he drawls.
I clear my throat. “Uh… what?”
When my eyes dart to his face, he’s wearing a smug grin. “I’m flattered that you like the view.”
“You’re huge… I mean, your muscles are huge. Shoot, that came out wrong.” I smooth my hair back. “You’re practically naked. Staring is unavoidable.” That sounded worse.
And this is why I should never open my mouth around attractive men, Walker included.
He strides toward me, his heated gaze trailing over me with molten intensity.
“You’re not exactly winning a modesty contest either,” he retorts.
I gasp when I notice the hem of my T-shirt has ridden up my thighs and tug it down the best I can.
“I’m assuming you helped me out of my skirt,” I say, one hand pinned over the fabric to keep it in place.
“I did,” he replies evenly. “Figured you’d be more comfortable and get a better night’s sleep if you weren’t in dirty clothes. Don’t worry, I was on my best behavior,” he adds with a smirk.
I swallow hard, my fingers curling tighter around the bottom of my T-shirt. A normal reaction would be embarrassment or even frustration toward Walker. Instead, disappointment washes over me. I can’t believe I was drunk the first time a man undressed me.
My eye twitches at my unhinged reaction, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Why did you stay over anyway? You could have easily dropped me off and asked Briar or Charlie to check on me this morning.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone in case you got sick again.” He leans forward to brush a loose piece of hair from my face, causing goose bumps to rise along my arms. “Plus, someone had to make sure you survived the hangover you’re pretending doesn’t exist.”
My stomach does a little flip knowing he gave up his own bed for my floor so he could keep an eye on me. He must be responsible for the pain meds and water too.
“That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, meeting my gaze. “Why don’t you get dressed and meet me downstairs. We need to get some food in you.”
“Um, okay?” It comes out like a question.
Part of me is waiting to wake up and discover this was all a dream and that Walker isn’t actually standing in my room, shirtless.
He takes my hand in his. “You’re not dreaming, Birdie.”
Did I say that out loud? That’s just great. He has to leave before my brain fries out entirely.
“I’m not going anywhere until you’ve had a proper breakfast,” he adds firmly.
“Crap, I did it again,” I mumble.
Considering I’m talking to myself while sober, it’s a miracle I didn’t do more to embarrass myself at the bar.
Walker chuckles. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready. See you in a few minutes, beautiful.” He gives my hand a squeeze before letting go, and I’m left staring after him as he leaves the room.