Chapter 32
thirty-two
An incessant buzzing pummels through my brain, making me groan into the mattress. My eyes flutter open, but all I can see is black. There’s a moment of panic before some semblance of lucidity kicks in and I realize I’m lying on my stomach with my head buried beneath a pillow.
Light instantly pierces my retinas when I toss the pillow aside, making me fumble a couple of times before I manage to snatch my phone off the nightstand.
Blinking away the blur, I swipe up.
LOGAN
You up, sis? How’s your hangover this morning? Bet it’s a doozy.
Below the text is a GIF of a guy with his head lolling back against a couch, mouth open and a line of drool leaking from his mouth.
I snort, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with my free hand.
I’m fine. Fuck you very much.
No more than ten seconds pass before his reply pings through. I can literally hear the baby talk in his voice as I read it.
LOGAN
Uh, oh. Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
Screw off.
LOGAN
Ha! Need me to bring anything?
No. Thanks though.
LOGAN
Okay. Love you, sis.
LYT
I toss the phone back onto the nightstand.
As the rest of the fog in my brain starts to clear, I feel something shift next to me on the bed. My heart jumps into my throat and I freeze.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, mentally kicking myself as I try to recall if I came home with anyone the night before. Still lying on my stomach, forearms holding me up, I slowly turn my head to take a look.
Please, God. Don’t let it be some random…
“Morning, Sunshine.”
Son of a bitch!
“What the fuck, Rowan!?”
Rowan’s grinning face stares back at me from where he’s sitting on the edge of my bed, still fully dressed in the same clothes from last night. Hair sticking up sexily in every direction known to man, he holds up a steaming mug that smells suspiciously like my favorite coffee.
“Relax,” he chuckles. “I slept on the couch. You were pretty out of it last night.”
Memories come rushing back—trivia night at The Brew, tequila shots, Rowan carrying me up the stairs, and... his hands in my pockets, grazing my skin, setting it on fire.
Fuck’s sake.
“What are you still doing here?” I croak as I push myself up into a sitting position, instantly regretting it as my blanket and sheets pool around my waist.
Head throbbing, I quickly discern I’m still wearing my clothes from the night before.
“Making sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit, or roll out of bed,” he says, handing me the steaming mug. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Did I...?”
“Throw up? No. But you did mumble something about dancing unicorns and fighting a sexy dragon at one point. What kind of books are you reading these days anyway?”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to determine if he’s messing with me. “None of your business,” I grouse. “And I don’t dream about that kind of shit.”
“You sure ‘bout that?” His knowing smirk is infuriating. Not to mention sexy as fuck. “You were so wasted.”
I take a cautious sip of my coffee, and damn it, it’s perfect.
“How did you know how I like my coffee?”
“I asked the barista at Bean & Co. He also said chocolate croissants are your favorite, so I got a few of those and a couple of breakfast sandwiches. I figured we could have breakfast together.”
“Why? It’s not like anyone can see us.”
“Me being here right now has nothing to do with our deal.”
“Technically, there is no deal.” I take another sip. “Not yet, anyway.”
Rowan gives me a soft smile. “How about you go take a shower, and when you’re done, we can talk it out?”
I look up into his hopeful eyes and fucking melt.
“Ugh. Fine. I guess we can do that.”
Setting my coffee next to my phone, I stand up. When the room sways, I feel a warm, firm hand grasp my elbow, steadying me.
Before I can even think about what I’m doing, I shove his hand away. “I’m good.”
Placatingly holding his hands up, he takes a step back.
As I make my way to the bathroom, I suddenly remember I have a pet to take care of.
When I turn around, Rowan’s eyes are on my ass.
“Hey!”
His gaze flicks up to mine. “What’s up?”
“Can you feed Slash for me?”
“Slash?”
I wave a hand toward the terrarium that houses my pet iguana. “Yeah. There’s a bucket of dried crickets in the top drawer. Just use the measuring cup.”
The look he gives me almost makes me laugh. Almost. His face has gone a little green.
“For crying out loud,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “He’s not gonna bite you.”
“You don’t know that,” he mumbles, throwing my pet a suspicious side-eye.
The snort that escapes me is a little more condescending than I mean it to be, which causes a flare of guilt.
Rowan stayed over to make sure nothing happened to me in the middle of the night.
I can’t remember the last time anyone did something like that for me.
But instead of the feeling softening my resolve, self-preservation kicks in, guilt quickly shifting to annoyance.
“I should’ve helped you get over your aversion to reptiles a long time ago,” I grumble, stomping across the room to open the cabinet drawer and take out the crickets.
Bucket of insects in hand, I start to open the container and get a sinister idea. Reaching into the enclosure, I gently pick up Slash and hold him up.
“Hold out both of your hands, palms up.”
Rowan takes a step back. “Uh, uh.”
“Come on,” I say, taking another step toward him. “You big chicken.”
“Fine,” he huffs, reluctantly holding out his hands, wincing like he’s about to get punched in the face.
I gently place Slash in his palms. “There. See? He’s not going to—”
A clear, yellowish stream of liquid trickles between his fingers and onto the floor.
“What the—!” Rowan yelps, eyes wide with horror as he holds Slash as far away from him as physically possible. “He’s peeing! Hurry! Take him back!”
Doubling over, I burst into laughter, tears springing to my eyes. “Oh my god, you should see your face!” I wheeze, clutching my stomach with delight.
“Izzy!” Rowan’s voice cracks in panic. “Take. Him. Back. Now.”
Still cackling, I reach out and scoop Slash from Rowan’s outstretched hands, fingers brushing against his wrist. Despite the hilarity of the situation, that brief contact sends an electric current up my arm.
“Good job, buddy,” I coo as I return Slash to his terrarium. “Perfect timing.”
Hands still hovering in mid-air, Rowan’s eyes narrow. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Skin still a little green, he looks down at his hands in disgust. “Is it going to stain my hands?”
“Fuck’s sake, Ro. Of course not. It’s just pee.”
In a flash, the look on his face goes from queasy-disgust to one of pure elation. As his skin regains its healthy glow, I realize my verbal mistake.
Not wanting to rehash that faux pas, I quickly turn without another word and hightail it into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind me.
When I emerge from the shower wrapped in my oversized, fluffy bathrobe, I feel almost human again. All I need now is some food to settle my empty stomach.
Rowan is sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through his phone with a weird smile on his face.
When he looks up, I can literally see the double take before he clears his throat. “Hey. Feel better?”
“Mostly.”
I take the seat kitty-corner from him.
“I fed Slash.”
My head turns in surprise. “You did?”
“Yup.”
“Thanks.”
When he slides a plate in front of me, the buttery scent of the warm chocolate croissant mingling with the savory aroma of a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich hits my nose, and my mouth instantly starts to water.
“Eat,” he orders. “Trust me, it’ll help with the hangover.”
As I eye the food skeptically, my stomach growls loudly enough for both of us to hear.
His knowing grin makes me scowl. “Fine,” I huff, taking a bite of the sandwich and nearly moan. The perfect combination of greasy, salty deliciousness is exactly what I need to soak up the sourness in my stomach.
He watches me eat for a few moments before sliding his phone across the counter. “So, this happened.”
I nearly choke when I see a photo of us from the lakeside restaurant. I’m leaning in with an actual smile on my face, while Rowan looks at me with what looks like adoration.
The headline above it makes me want to throw his phone out of the window.
ROWAN COLE RECONNECTS WITH HOMETOWN CHILDHOOD SWEETHEART
“What the actual fuck?” I snatch up the device, scanning the article. “How did they—?”
“Remember the person I pointed out taking our picture at the restaurant? Turns out they’re actually a freelance photographer who sold it to TMZ.”
“TMZ?!” I shriek, wincing as my voice makes my head start throbbing again. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“I told you it would happen fast,” he says with a shrug, though he doesn’t look particularly bothered by it. “Actually, it’s perfect timing. This confirms we’ve reconnected. And to make it even more believable, you should come with me to L.A.”
I stare at him, my mind racing through the implications. “Wait, what? L.A.?”
Eyes never leaving mine, he takes a sip of his coffee. “I need to head back for a few days next week for some meetings. You coming with me would be the perfect way to solidify the start of our new relationship. Not only in the public eye, but to the studio execs as well.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you out of your mind? I can’t just drop everything and jet off to L.A. with you. I have clients. Appointments that have been booked out for months!”
“It would only be for three days. Friday through Sunday. Plenty of time for you to reschedule.”
Appetite suddenly gone, I set my sandwich down. “This is happening way too fast.”
“Look,” he says, leaning in. “The story’s already out there. People are talking. My agent is ecstatic, by the way. Says this is exactly the kind of publicity we need.”
“Oh good, so glad your agent approves,” I snark, rolling my eyes.