25. Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Brandy
I woke up feeling like I'd poured a bottle of booze over ice cream and drank the entire mixture. Then I remembered that was exactly what I'd done.
Then it hit me.
I slowly opened one eye approximately two millimeters and glanced sideways.
Hell. There's a man in my bed.
Nick Carson is sleeping in my bed.
MY BED HAS A MAN IN IT AND I HAVE TO PEE.
I lay completely still for approximately thirty seconds, assessing the situation the way you assess a crime scene when you are both the detective and the only suspect.
I again opened my eye the same amount, taking in the state of Nick.
Nick was on his back. One arm thrown above his head. The other rested on his chest. His breathing was the slow, steady breathing of a man who had consumed an impressive amount of bourbon and had absolutely no idea of the domestic crisis currently unfolding six inches to his left.
Okay. Damn, he’s good-looking.
FOCUS! Sleeping, alright, what to do? Make it to the bathroom. That's the first problem. Everything else is the second problem.
I have no clothes on.
Alright, THAT’S the first problem and the bathroom the second. Either way, lying here isn’t going to accomplish squat other than running to the bathroom when he wakes up. And nothing says good morning like someone running from you.
That was all I needed. Very slowly, I began the process of extracting myself from the bed. One inch at a time. I got my feet to the floor without incident and I stood. I almost raised my hands, celebrating my success.
Nine point five on the sneaking-out-of-bed-the-next-morning meter.
I located my leggings somewhere near the foot of the bed. My sweatshirt was in the corner where I had apparently flung it with the enthusiasm of a woman who had consumed a significant amount of bourbon and had zero regrets about it at the time.
Bra?
My bladder gave me a last warning signal.
Nope, no time for that. You live here, to the closet!
Quickly tiptoeing to the closet, I gathered new clothes. Then I made it to the bathroom, closed the door with the careful precision of a bomb disposal expert.
I used the bathroom, replaying last night over in my head. And smiling at most of it. I mean, he’s good, so, you know.
I splashed water on my face, looked in the mirror, and wrestled my hair into a sort of bun on top of my head.
I’m so chopping every inch of this hair off.
I pulled myself together and got dressed.
Okay. You're going out there. You don't know what you're going to say, but whatever happens you're going to act like a grown woman who made a choice and is perfectly fine with that choice.
Because you are. And because your sex drought ended.
I smiled at myself in the mirror, then decided that was odd. I quietly opened the bathroom door and almost went ass over head.
Cap was sitting directly outside the bathroom door. His tail immediately began its enormous thumping on the hardwood floor. Each thump was approximately the volume of a small explosion.
"Shhhhh." I pointed at him with every bit of authority I had.
Cap's tail thumped harder.
"CAP." I whispered it with the intensity of a shout. "Shhhhhh."
He looked at me, looked toward the bedroom, then looked back at me. His tail going the entire time like a drumline.
"Come on, outside," I whispered, pointing toward the back door. "NOW."
Cap stood, shook himself from nose to tail. The whole-body shake sounded like a small earthquake. Then he padded after me to the back door. I let him out into the morning yard and stood on the step in the early morning June air, arms crossed. And made two observations.
Damn, that dog’s loud. And good grief, Nick can sleep through anything.
Finally, when he was done, I let him back in and that is when the four-legged betrayal of the century occurred.
Did he come to me? Sit nicely? Let me pet him and maintain the fragile peace of the morning?
He did not.
The big lug put his nose to the floor, picked up a scent trail like a detective working a cold case, and made a beeline directly for the bedroom.
I heard the sound of him launching himself onto the bed with the grace of a small aircraft landing.
And then I heard it, the grunt Nick made when approximately a hundred and fifty pounds of Great Dane landed directly on him.
I could hear it all the way from the kitchen.
And judging by the level of the grunt, Cap’s paw placement hit its mark.
"UGH, CAP OFF." Nick's voice barked in a morning-rough, jolted-awake tone.
I stood in my kitchen in the June morning light and stared at the wall.
Damn four-legged betrayer.
I filled the coffee maker with the focused energy of a woman who needed something to do with her hands. While it brewed, I leaned against the counter and had a very honest conversation with myself about what was happening.
Nick Carson had slept in my bed. The same Nick Carson who drove me crazy with his defiance of Summerween and his accusing behavior.
Yeah, him, I slept with him.
But, but he’s also the man who apologized in a way-over-the-top manner.
And last night, he made me feel things. Boy, did he make me feel things.
I covered my mouth in an attempt to squelch a giggle.
Most importantly, for the first time in a very long time, he made me feel like someone was actually listening to what I had to say.
The coffee maker beeped.
"Morning."
I jumped and nearly knocked the coffee maker off the counter.
“Sorry.” Nick was in the kitchen doorway.
His hair was doing several things simultaneously.
He was back in his T-shirt and basketball shorts from last night.
His green eyes were slightly squinting against the morning light the way everyone does when the bourbon has had its say.
He looked absolutely terrible while at the same time looking absolutely wonderful.
"Morning," I said, turning to get two mugs because apparently that was the decision we were making.
"I smell coffee," he said.
"It just finished."
"Thank goodness."
I poured two mugs and handed him one. Our fingers overlapped on the handle the way they had with the water bottle on my porch what felt like a lifetime ago. Neither of us moved for a second.
"How's your head?" I asked.
"Functional," he said. "Yours?"
"Debatable."
The corner of his mouth moved into almost a smile.
We stood in my kitchen in the morning light drinking our coffee and not saying anything. Cap appeared from the hallway and pressed himself against Nick's leg.
Nick looked down at him. Then looked at me.
"He launched himself onto me," Nick said.
I said, "I heard the grunt."
Nick took a drink of his coffee. "So." He set his mug down on my counter and looked at me directly with the particular steadiness that was entirely Nick Carson. No fidgeting, no filling the silence, just looking.
"So," I said.
"How about dinner?" he said. "Tonight, possibly. If you're not busy."
I looked at him over the rim of my coffee mug.
"I'm not busy," I said. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Well, I can grill or we can go out.”
“You cook?”
“I do. Or you can save yourself the indigestion and we can go for burgers at Pins and Grins.”
I leaned back against the counter and scrunched my eyes. “Hmm, given those are my choices, I think I’ll take the burger.”
“Smart, that’s what I would have picked too.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “I’ll pick you up here at six. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.”
Nick put his coffee mug in the sink next to the glasses from last night. “I better head out, I can’t show up at work like this.”
“On the contrary, I think it should be the official uniform.”
Walking out of the kitchen, he stopped and kissed my cheek. “See you tonight.” He took another step. “Cap, let’s go.”
“Woof,” came from the bedroom as Cap barreled past him to the front door.
And just like that, they were gone and I was left wondering what the hell just happened.