Chapter 6
What was that constant buzzing, and how could I make it stop?
My head pulsed with the kind of ache that only Las Vegas could induce. I knew that I should move, but there was something lovely about lying there in that warm bed with my eyes closed, wrapped up in those strong male arms.
Hold, up, where am I?
The buzzing stopped, and I peeled open one eye, then the other, revealing a room I had never seen before. The guy next to me? Him, I”d seen.
”Sloan?” I asked his name, quietly, testing to see if he was awake.
Other than his gentle up and down breaths, he didn”t budge when I spoke his name.
I extracted myself from the arm draped over me and sat up, slowly, because that”s the only way my body would move.
I was naked, and by the look of the hickey on my left breast and the lipstick imprints on Sloan”s face, we”d had a very nice time.
I lifted the sheet and, yup, he was naked, too.
The long cords of his muscles were covered in a smattering of masculine dark hair that matched his beard. Let it be known that there was nothing manscaped about this man.
I liked it.
Even with the headache, the light pulse between my legs perked right up, so I set the sheet back down.
We”d stopped for margaritas, we drank them, and then… there was a giant blank spot in my memory.
I needed to check in with my friends—let them know I was good. Ensure they were also good.
The buzzing started again.
My phone, it was definitely my phone.
”Sloan.” His name came out like a croak. I reached for his shoulder to wake him, and that”s the precise second when my world tilted.
Because there was a giant-ass diamond ring on my left hand. I opened my mouth to shriek, but no sound came out. Pretty sure my heart was racing, and I”d started to sweat, but I was in the middle of an odd out-of-body experience so I felt none of that.
I couldn”t say how long I stayed that way, stuck with my hand out and my mouth open.
”Hey.” Sloan reached for my shoulder. Son-of-a-biscuit, he had a wedding band on his finger, too. ”Maya?”
He didn”t seem to notice his ring. Or mine.
”You okay?” He sat up much quicker than I did. Though he did wobble when he got to the top, and he blinked really hard. ”Maya?”
I continued to stare at the diamond on my finger, unable to do anything other than just… look.
Sloan followed the path of my gaze. ”Whoa.”
Right, whoa?
I pulled the ring off and threw it. Straight up, hocked it across the room. It made a small ti-i-nk when it bounced off the television.
”That”s better,” I said, the words coming out all throaty.
Not quite, though. I reached for his hand, yanked off his ring, and threw it, too.
”Why was I wearing a ring?” he asked like it didn”t really matter one way or the other.
The best thing about adrenaline was that it momentarily removed the hangover effects from before. I tossed back the sheet and stood.
I got slightly woozy but recovered. Even though I wasn”t wearing a stitch of clothing, I scanned the room for any papers or envelopes. Anything that might give me a hint if we”d done this for real or just for fun.
”But it”s never fun, is it?” I said, aloud.
”Maya, come back to bed,” Sloan said, again like this was a normal occurrence for him.
I shuffled through the clothes tossed about the room. At some point last night, I”d acquired a new pair of boots. Dollars to donuts, I”d bet these hadn’t been on sale. Somehow, I also came across my panties. Multi-tasking, I put them on while digging for my purse.
”Relax. Whatever”s the matter, we”ll deal with it.” Sloan had a glazed, just-woke-up look.
His adrenaline clearly hadn”t activated like mine.
”A-ha.” I found a large manila envelope tossed on the sofa.
I knew this envelope. Because that”s exactly how they handed out marriage licenses in Clark County. I looked to Sloan. He was oblivious and running his hand over his face like this wasn”t the worst possible way to wake up.
I snagged the envelope in my grip, opened the seal, and my heart dropped because there was definitely a marriage license.
”No,” I said. ”No, no, no, no, no.” Each no got progressively louder.
I sat on the sofa and stared at the license. There was another envelope marked with a Neon Nuptials Chapel logo, so I opened that one, too.
”Oh, God,” I said, sifting through the photos.
Sloan and I with a Liberace actor in a chapel—clearly getting married. I dropped each photo to the floor as I went through them. The receipt in the middle said we”d splurged for the special package of memories.
Which was nice for us to have done, since I didn”t remember a damn thing.
”Do you remember what happened?” I asked.
”No,” he said. ”I remember we got the margaritas. I was gonna call a ride share, but…” He reached to grab his phone, and he slid his thumb across the screen. ”I didn”t call a ride share.” He blinked at his phone, rubbing his eyes.
My phone buzzed again.
I grabbed the nearest clothing—his flannel shirt. With my important bits covered, I checked my phone. I didn”t answer Emily”s call. Best not to let her know I broke the biggest rule of them all last night.
Instead, first, I confirmed they were good via their messaging.
They were.
Then I shot out a quick:
Emily Angela: Hey, Gr8 Ngt. Everything”s good here.
Then I figured I should add:
Emily Angela: Don”t wry! I”m w/Sloan!
I checked my call history; I”d called no one last night. That was good. If I didn”t call anyone, then they didn”t know.
Except… I checked my social media accounts. Yep, nothing there, either.
”Did you call anyone last night? I didn”t call anyone last night. And I didn”t post anything on any socials. Did you? Did you post?” I asked quickly.
”Uh…” Sloth style, he checked his phone. ”No. No calls, texts, or anything else.” He paused to study a slip of paper next to his cell.
”Maya, where are the rings?” he asked, his gaze lingering on a slip of paper in his hands.
He tossed back the covers and slid his legs over the side of the bed, tagging his boxers and pulling them on.
”I don”t know,” I said, shaking my head.
”This was the direction you tossed ”em?” he asked, already getting down on his hands and knees to look through the thick carpet by the television.
”Why? Did we steal them?” I asked. ”Oh, my God. We don”t know. We probably five-finger discounted them.” I pressed my hands in my hair, pulling it away from my face. ”We”re criminals. I”m going to prison.”
”No, I have the receipt.” He was still searching the carpet with his hands. ”We didn”t steal them, but they cost a fucking fortune.” While he was searching for them, he wasn”t super into it. Actually, he was being laidback about the whole thing.
”Do you have a hangover?” I asked. ”Because I do.”
”Yeah,” he said, still searching. ”My brain”s on fire.”
All things considered, he was handling the whole woke up naked with a wedding band shebang way too well.
Gah, I wasn”t. The nauseating headache from whatever the bartender put in those tequila-infested yardstick cups was the absolute worst.
Bartender was a very loose sort of term for the man, because in hindsight, the guy was more of a hangover-inducing evil wizard. Extra emphasis on evil.
”Found one.” Sloan slid my diamond band on his pinky and looked for the other.
”Sloan, I cannot be trusted as an adult,” I said. ”I am a grown-up human being, and I cannot be trusted.” I bit my lips together, because soon, I”d start to cry and once that happened, everything would go to hell. The only thing worse would be to wake up married and pregnant. I wouldn”t, because I was consistent with my birth control pills, but…
”Oh my God.” Hangover notwithstanding, I practically leapt from the sofa. ”Did we use protection? Tell me we used protection. Did you even bring condoms? Please tell me we practiced safe sex. I cannot get an STD! I cannot. My health insurance is total shit. It”s the worst. You don”t understand how bad it is. Like if there was a contest for the worst health insurance, my insurance would win that contest. I take extra vitamins every day, just because it”s so crappy.”
I checked the nearest trash can, but it was empty.
Damn.
”You didn”t flush it, did you?” I asked. ”Because if you flushed it, there will be no evidence. Also, it”s really bad for the pipes and stuff to flush that kind of thing down.”
”Maya,” Sloan said, pausing his ring search. ”Chill.”
”I will not chill,” I replied. ”Now is not the time to chill.”
I lifted the trash can nearest the bed to check it and?—
”Oh, thank goodness. We were responsible.” I held the trash can against my chest. Yes, all of the appropriate evidence suggested we may have been inebriated, but we were responsibly wasted.
”Found it,” Sloan said, holding up the other ring and sliding it back on his finger.
Good thing I had the wastebasket on hand, because watching him slide that ring on his finger?
Any remnants left of that margarita came right up.