Chapter 1
Chapter One
Britt was dying. That was the only possible explanation. She couldn’t already be dead because if she were, her head wouldn’t feel like someone had stuffed it into a food processor and hit “grate.”
Gingerly prying her eyes open, she instantly regretted it when a bright ray of light slapped her in the face. She threw an arm over her eyes with a groan.
What the hell happened last night?
She tried to recall the last twelve hours. Unfortunately, her throbbing head only granted flashes of memories… Laughing with Laurel and Skye… Drinking… Dancing and cigarette smoke… More drinking… Sparkling lights, spinning wheels, and incessant bells that would not stop…
Vegas!
That’s right, she was in Vegas for Laurel’s bachelorette party.
She and Jake were getting married in a couple of months, and since Laurel taught first grade, they’d planned the wedding for June when she’d be on summer break.
Britt and Skye were her bridesmaids. The couple had decided to have a combined bachelor/bachelorette party now since it worked out best for everyone’s schedules.
Laurel had never been to Vegas, so Jake decided that’s where they should have the parties.
Not that Britt was complaining. She was always up for warm weather and video poker.
Last night, they’d gone to a night club in their hotel and, judging from the fact her head was going to explode at any moment, may have had one too many Long Island iced teas.
Ugh. Even thinking about liquor made her nauseous, so that confirmed she’d definitely overdone it in the drink depar?—
Something moved behind her, making her breath hitch. She shot a look over her left shoulder. What she wasn’t expecting to find was a strong, muscular, bare back warming the sheets next to her.
Holy shit!
She whipped her head back—not the smartest move considering the food processor was now pureeing her brain—and stifled a whimper.
Who is that?
She couldn’t remember. She hadn’t spent much time with anyone last night outside of their group.
Not as far as she could recall, anyway. Of course, that wasn’t saying much since the entire night was like those paper snowflakes kids made in school.
You know, a piece of paper with lots of holes cut out of it.
Yep. Unfortunately, her evening was one giant snowflake with random sections snipped out.
She vaguely remembered the girls somehow getting onto the topic of her sex life, or rather, lack thereof.
In her defense, she wasn’t actively avoiding sex.
She’d never actively avoided it in her life.
She liked it too much. She just didn’t have time for it.
Well, not for dating, anyway. She’d had a couple friends with benefits in the past, except lately, she’d even been too busy for that.
Being promoted to sous chef at Shades Restaurant a little over two years ago had consumed her life.
Working under a James Beard nominee like Aaron Davenport was an amazing opportunity, but it didn’t leave much room for anything else.
Even her oldest brother, Dex, had teased she should sublet her house because she was hardly ever there.
It honestly wasn’t funny, though. More like pitiful. Here she was twenty-seven years old, and she could count the number of times she’d had sex in the past eight months on two fingers. Well, excluding Levi, of course, but it didn’t feel right to include him since he required batteries.
When Skye had pitched the idea of having a one-night stand this weekend—because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas—Britt hadn’t actually planned on doing it.
In fact, she’d only talked to that guy at the bar because Skye dragged her over there.
She’d claimed he’d been eye-fucking Britt all night, and told her she had to introduce herself.
Oh, my God! Is he the guy from the bar?
He was the last guy she could remember talking to, so it had to be him, right?
Dammit. She couldn’t remember.
She looked around the room, searching for answers. When her eyes locked on a black suitcase sitting against the wall, she froze.
That’s not my suitcase.
Hers was hot pink.
Great, this isn’t my room. Which meant it had to belong to the naked man sleeping next to her.
Shit! Is he naked?
Wait.
Am I?
She lifted the blanket faster than an alley cat running by with its tail on fire.
Her heart started beating again when she confirmed she had clothes on.
Unfortunately, they weren’t hers. She was swimming in a large, gray T-shirt—obviously, his T-shirt, whoever he was—and nothing else.
Regardless, she’d take his shirt over being next to a stranger in her birthday suit any day. Which begged the question…
Lifting the blanket again, she nearly choked when her eyes landed on his bare ass. She immediately dropped the blanket, but the image of his fine backside wasn’t leaving her memory any time soon.
Son of a biscuit! I had sex with a stranger! Didn’t I?
Why couldn’t she remember?
Stupid question. She’d been drunk. Apparently, blackout drunk because she wasn’t wearing her own clothes, and she was in a stranger’s room with no memory of how she’d gotten there.
Oh no.
Vegas. She’d just woken up in Vegas in bed with a naked man and a hangover from hell.
A wave of prickly heat erupted across her skin as her eyes darted to her left hand.
“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” she whispered upon finding her ring finger void of bling.
The guy lying next to her mumbled something, prompting Britt to slap her ringless hand over her mouth.
She hadn’t meant to speak out loud. The last thing she wanted was a face-to-face with him if he woke up.
Whoever he was. And since she was in his room and not her own, she didn’t have to worry about getting rid of him.
All she had to do was sneak out before he woke up.
Then she could forget this hookup ever happened. If they’d actually hooked up.
Did I have sex with him?
I think so? Maybe? Ugh, I don’t know!
If she left now, she’d never have to find out. She could pretend it never happened. If something had happened.
He’s buck-ass naked and you’re not wearing underwear, so obviously something happened.
She knew exactly what that something was, but she wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Why not stay in fantasyland a little longer, right?
She’d had a one-night stand before, years ago. It hadn’t been anything to write home about, but at least she remembered it.
Wow, that’s worthy of putting on a resume, right there.
Wincing, she tried to focus on the one bright spot in this god-awful mess: she hadn’t drunken-married a stranger in Vegas. If she had, she didn’t know what she’d do. One thing for sure, though… her momma would’ve tanned her hide if she’d gotten married and robbed her of her big, fancy wedding.
Yes, her wedding, not Britt’s. Lacey Callaway had been planning her daughter’s wedding since Britt had graduated from diapers to training pants.
She literally had an entire wedding book already put together with everything from sample invitations to cake toppers to a list of photographers she deemed acceptable.
Not having a big wedding was considered a cardinal sin in her family, especially for Britt.
Being the only girl out of four children, she was Lacey’s sole hope of having full planning control since she believed the mother of the bride held just as much, if not more clout than the bride.
Dex was the only one of Britt’s siblings to have gotten married thus far.
His wife was from Idaho, so that’s how he’d ended up living there.
She and Dex had always been close, so Britt had followed him after graduating from culinary school.
Don’t get her wrong, she loved the South, but she’d wanted to try something different and expand her horizons.
Dex, however, “messed it up” in their mother’s eyes when he got divorced.
Never mind that his ex had cheated on him.
Divorce was a four-letter word as far as her momma was concerned.
The pressure not only to get married, but to stay married was probably why none of her other brothers had tied the knot.
Well, that and they’d never fallen in love…
not counting Hayes. He’d fallen in love with every girlfriend he’d had since the seventh grade.
Nope. It was easier to stay away from the altar, at least for now.
There was too much pressure to make marriage a success.
She absolutely wanted to get married and have a family someday.
She also never wanted to get divorced. If what Dex had to go through with his was any indication of the hell that would follow, she was adamant about not tying the knot unless she was head-over-heels-one-hundred-percent in love.
Her momma would have to wait for grandbabies because Britt didn’t plan on getting married any time soon.
Making her mark as a chef was more important right now.
She didn’t have time for anything else, let alone love.
Friends with benefits worked fine. Well, it would, if she ever had time for the benefits.
But doing it with a stranger in Vegas? Definitely not on her bucket list. She’d have to be drunk to do th?—
Oh, right.
The man mumbled again, so she squeezed her eyes shut because… what? That made her invisible? Good lord.
She waited on pins and needles for any signs of life from the man lying next to her. When he started snoring softly, she blew out a controlled breath.
Good, he was still asleep. But for how long? She definitely wasn’t about to stick around and find out.
As carefully as possible, Britt slid off the bed like melted ice cream dripping down the side of a cone.
She remained crouched on all fours, waiting to see if she’d woken him up.
When his steady breathing continued, she crawled around the end of the bed, searching for her clothes.
It didn’t take long to spy the form-fitting dress she’d had on last night crumpled into a lavender ball on the floor by the mini fridge.