3. Hazel
HAZEL
After a couple of deep breaths, I get up and stand in front of the mirror. Its thick, gilded edges frame my reflection, and what a picture I make: smeared makeup, wild hair, puffy face that’s a little green around the edges.
There’s a neat stack of washcloths on a shelf near the sink, so I grab one, wet it, and clean up the best I can. I find a small bottle of mouthwash in the cabinet, pour some into a glass, and swish it around my mouth.
My white dress is still hanging loosely, open at my back, but when I try to reach the zipper, my head feels like it’s going to crack open, so I leave it.
There’s another tap at the door. Crap. I’m sure there’s more than one bathroom in this luxe suite, so I know the knocking is for me, and that thought makes my heart pound just as hard as my head.
At least I look less like a dead raccoon now. I steel myself, turn, and open the door.
It’s Conal. He’s pulled on a pair of jeans, with the top unbuttoned, so I’m not immediately confronted with …
all of him. He has tattoos on both arms and one on his chest, but I can’t focus on those because he’s looking at me, and I’m looking back, and he’s every bit as beautiful this morning as he was last night.
How is it fair that I woke up looking like wet garbage, and he looks like he’s ready to go onstage and make a crowd of women drop their panties?
Speaking of panties, I’m suddenly acutely aware that I’m not wearing any.
I’m just as much a mess inside as I am on the outside. Embarrassed, uncertain, anxious …and full of a yearning so deep that my fingers are tingling. I want to touch him, just reach a hand out and rest it against his skin, to make sure he’s real. But I don’t dare.
“Hi,” I say weakly, and then I don’t know what to say next. I feel like an idiot. How do you talk to your brand-new husband whom you don’t even know ?
In answer, he holds out two pills and a glass of water. “Aspirin. It’ll help.” The richness of his husky voice doesn’t help my no-underwear situation.
“Thanks.” I focus on the pills, because taking them means I can avoid looking at him for a few seconds longer. I very much want to look at him, but I’m afraid of everything I feel when I do.
My stomach threatens to rebel when I swallow the aspirin, but I firmly, silently, order the medicine to stay down. After another tiny sip of water, I hand the glass back to Conal.
A need for water is what woke me up, but I’m too nervous to think about it now. I have no idea what to do or say, but trying to fake my way through this situation seems like a really bad idea.
Deciding on complete honesty, I gather the strength to look up into Conal’s beautiful eyes. “I don’t remember a lot of what happened last night.”
His mouth twitches in an almost-smile. “Like the part where we got married?”
My heart jolts at the confirmation. Though all the signs were there, it hardly seemed possible. “That part, yeah. And I’m not sure what else. The last thing I remember is around midnight.” My eyes go to his lips, before I force them higher .
“Midnight is when we started doing shots.”
“Oh. Well, that explains it, I guess.” I’ve done my share of drinking at parties, but usually just a beer or two. I’ve never been a big drinker, but I remember having champagne earlier last night, and I might have had more than I ordinarily would.
Conal tilts his head toward the living room. “Ready to come out? Do you think you could keep a piece of toast down?”
The thought of food makes me wince. “I’ll try.” When he steps back to make room for me to exit, I remember my dress. “Oh … could you …help me with this?” I turn partway to show him the open zipper.
He arches a dark brow and smirks, making me wonder if he helped me take off this dress last night. When the tips of his fingers touch my bare back, electricity shoots up my spine.
Did we consummate the marriage? Leave it to me to have no memory of my first sexual experience.
My body shivers as he pulls up the zipper. He gives my shoulder a brief squeeze when he’s done. “Are you cold? I’ll get a blanket.”
It’s not the temperature that has me quivering, so I don’t answer. Instead, I follow him out. He starts off taking big strides with those long legs of his, but slows his pace to match mine and stays at my side.
The living room curtains are parted a few feet now, and it’s painfully sunny outside. I’ll bet there’s a spectacular view out there, but I can’t bear to look.
I catch sight of motion through my squinted eyes and open wider to find Conal’s brothers at the other end of the room. Rafe Curran is lifting lids from various plates on a room service cart. Bron is behind the bar, pouring something into a glass, but stops when he sees me.
“Morning, Hazel!”
I give Bron a small smile and mumble a response.
He did his share of flirting with me last night, from what my tattered memory can piece together, but I don’t remember us having any heart-to-hearts.
Of course, everyone who pays any attention to entertainment news knows all sorts of things about the Curran brothers, the kinds of things that make a person blush.
And I just woke up in bed with all three of them.
“Hair of the dog?” Bron lifts a bottle my way, offering me alcohol, and I quickly shake my head, then wince again from the sudden movement .
“No, thank you.”
Waking up with just Conal would have been intimidating enough, but being here alone with all three brothers is something else entirely. Where is Bliss?
“Bring her some dry toast,” Conal tells Rafe.
The guitar god nods once but doesn’t say anything.
Rafe’s in jeans and a black t-shirt, and I scold myself when I notice the way the fabric stretches across his impressive chest. His dark hair is wavy, cut shorter than his brothers, and his usually clean-cut jaw is shaded with stubble.
I don’t suppose I should be admiring other men now that I’m a married woman, but Rafe’s piercing gray eyes are mesmerizing.
The idea of being a married woman almost makes me laugh out loud. This is all too ridiculous to be real, but another glance at the ring on my finger sobers me immediately.
I sink into an armchair as Conal retrieves a blanket from a closet. At the same time as he brings it over and drapes it on my lap, Bron approaches holding a glass of cloudy-looking liquid.
“Have some coconut water. It’s good for hydration.
” He’s wearing a navy tracksuit with the top unzipped and no shirt beneath it.
I try not to look at him, but it’s impossible.
Playing drums apparently provides an amazing upper body workout.
He’s got tattoos too, and I know Rafe’s also inked, from shirtless pictures I’ve seen of him.
I feel guilty admiring Conal’s brothers, but I can’t help but wonder … why were they both in bed with us? It’s not as if there was only one bed available in this massive suite.
If it were just Conal and me here, I’d be asking questions, but the idea of talking to all three of these famous men about how I can’t remember last night makes me want to crawl under one of the sofas and never come out. Instead, I take a tiny sip of the drink Bron gave me.
I’ve tried coconut water before and didn’t like it, so I’m definitely not expecting to enjoy the taste today with the way my stomach’s feeling, but I don’t want to be rude.
Surprisingly, it’s not unpleasant. Encouraged by the fact that the aspirin Conal gave me hasn’t rebelled, I take a bigger drink.
Conal intercepts the plate of toast from Rafe and sets it on the end table next to me. As I’m thanking the three of them, a phone rings in Conal’s back pocket. He takes it out, glances at the screen, then silences the ring with what I’d swear was a satisfied smirk .
When Rafe’s phone rings a moment later, Conal shakes his head. “Don’t answer it.”
“Wasn’t going to,” Rafe says, as he stands in the middle of the room drinking from a mug.
I take a tentative bite of toast, and when my stomach doesn’t protest, I take another, washing it down with a small sip of coconut water. The men seem unbothered, eating and drinking like it’s a normal morning, though from what I’ve heard, they’re probably used to partying hard.
When I clear my throat, all three of them look my way, and I’m again tempted to hide somewhere. Instead, I say, “There’s a chance my sister might show up. I talked to her, and … she wanted to know where I was. I …I told her not to come, but she was worried about me.”
Rafe and Bron return to their breakfasts, and Conal nods easily, which helps me relax a bit. “I’ll tell security to send her up if she comes.”
His reaction is a relief, because if Conal didn’t want to let Ember in, I can imagine her getting the police involved, or maybe her three men would fight their way in.
Encouraged by Conal’s response, I bring up another concern. “Do you know where my friend is? Bliss? ”
“She’s in another room here at the hotel. We assumed you’d want to see her today.”
I nod, and try to act like all this is normal. I probably only missed a few hours of my life last night, but they sure were important ones.