Chapter 6 Josie
JOSIE
There was no way in hell I would make it through this day if those drums kept pounding at full volume.
“Stop!” I called out, growling in anger when the drums didn’t quiet.
I was going to kill him. When had Sawyer decided to become a drummer, and why the hell had he decided that first thing in the morning was the best time to practice?
Peeling my crusted eyes open, I squinted around the extremely bright, extremely painful room. I was on the couch, not in my bed. That explained the massive crick in my neck and the tweak in my back.
I slid my legs to the floor, only to kick a bucket from the side of the couch. “How the heck did I get here?”
Bad decisions and alcohol swarmed my mind as little bits and pieces of the night before pummeled me.
“Oh, that was so very bad,” I muttered, pressing my hand to the side of my head where it felt like a spike was being driven through my temple.
And yet, Sawyer continued to play the drums.
Shoving to my feet, I stumbled down the hall and slammed my fist against his door several times before flinging it open. But he wasn’t playing the drums. He was actually hanging off the edge of the bed with his mouth gaping.
So, that banging was actually all in my head. Well, there was only one thing that would fix this, and that was a very strong cup of herbal tea.
Bracing against the wall, I slowly made my way to the kitchen, doing my level best not to fall every second step.
I pried the cabinet open with much more force than was actually necessary and reached for my favorite mug.
Sadly, it was too high, and raising my arm that high only made the pounding in my head worse.
I bent over, thunking my head on the counter as nausea churned in my stomach. I was never drinking again. This was the worst day of my life. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had so much to drink. But I’d let my brother get the best of me.
Tea. I needed tea.
Moving with the greatest ease, I found a clean mug in the dish rack, not that it was really big enough for what I needed, but it would have to do. However, the light reflecting off the pot was shining right in my eyes, making my headache even worse.
Blinds. I needed to shut the damn blinds. Right.
I shuffled across the kitchen, wove my way through the living room, and over to the front window that was causing the wretched pounding in my head. But something outside was wrong.
My tired eyes scanned every inch of the yard, over to the neighbors across the street, and finally back to the driveway, but I couldn’t pinpoint what the problem was. And the fog in my brain wasn’t helping a damn thing.
The longer I stared out the window, the more my brain was suffering. I yanked the cord and closed the blinds, then headed back to the kitchen to finish my tea.
And that’s when it hit me, halting me in my tracks.
Pressing my hand to my stomach, I shook my head slowly. “No. Oh, God, no. Please tell me…”
I rushed back to the window, yanking on the cord again to open the blinds. It was staring me right in the face.
Or, rather, the lack of a vehicle was staring me in the face.
I hadn’t made it home on my own. But that meant…
I cupped a hand over my mouth as I barely remembered Tennessee taking my keys from me last night in the bar. Which could only mean that he had brought me home.
My eyes drifted back to the couch where the bucket still sat.
Crap, I’d made a fool of myself, but just how badly, I wasn’t entirely sure yet. The only thing for me to do was to walk over there like a big girl and thank him for driving me home last night.
But in order to do that, I needed my tea. One thing at a time. I couldn’t function properly until I had my herbal tea.
The effort it took to make it to the kitchen was astronomical, but even worse was when I tried to figure out why my tea kettle wasn’t warming up. The damn thing didn’t seem to want to turn on, and it was electric. It was too much for my brain to process right now.
Grabbing my mug, my kettle, the base for it, and my herbal tea, I did the only rational thing a woman like me could do at this hour.
I went to my neighbor’s house.
The brisk morning air chilled me to the bone, but then again, I didn’t even know what I was wearing, and looking at my clothing would take my focus off the very slick, very uneven ground I was currently trying to walk across.
When I finally made it to his door, lifting my fist when both hands were full was quite the conundrum.
So, I hit my foot against the door. Pain shot up my leg, but that was the least of my concerns when I was barely staying upright. Leaning my head against his door, I groaned in pain. Or nausea. Heck, I wasn’t even sure at the moment. I just knew I felt horrible.
I realized after a long few minutes of waiting that no one was actually going to answer the door, that I had walked over here for nothing, and now I would have to make the long trek home.
Maybe I could just sit on his step for a few minutes until the cold shocked me out of my alcohol-induced depression.
And that was just what I was about to do when the door was flung open. Yelping, I slipped forward, falling right into the masculine arms of my neighbor. With my nose squished up against his bare chest, I could smell every delicious inch of him.
“Are you sniffing me?”
“Hmm?” Was I? Maybe. I wasn’t really sure.
Strong hands gripped my biceps and pushed me upright. The world tilted with the sudden movement and it took a good five seconds for everything to stop moving.
“What are you doing here?”
I opened my mouth, grimacing when I tasted my own nasty cottonmouth. What had died in there?
“Are you going to throw up?”
I shook my head slowly, then remembered why I came over here in the first place. “I came to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“Well, there’s no vehicle outside,” I said slowly, not because I thought he was stupid, but because I could barely get the words out without thinking through everything very carefully.
“Your deduction skills are astonishing.”
“And the last thing I remember is you taking my keys.”
“Yeah, you were pretty drunk.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You passed out on the bar.”
“That sounds about right.”
“I had to carry you to the truck.”
“Again, not surprising,” I muttered.
“And then I had to deal with your date,” he bit out.
I winced, thinking about how bad my brother must have been. “Sorry about that.”
“He thought a Cheeto was your house key.”
“Well…” Yeah, I had nothing to say to that. “Again, thank you.”
He stared at me for a moment, then shut the door in my face. I stared at the wood, running through our conversation in my head again. Then I kicked the door once again, this time thinking better about leaning my forehead against it.
When the door swung open, I pressed the items in my arms into his, then shoved past him into his rental. I barely made it to his kitchen counter without falling over.
“Sure, come in,” he muttered.
“The kettle won’t work, and I need tea to function.”
“How is that my problem?”
“God, my head is pounding. Like a nail driving into my skull. Do you know what that’s like?”
“I’m beginning to feel it right now,” he sighed, walking around to the other side of the counter.
The moment he set the kettle down, I let out a yelp as pain ricocheted in my head. “Do you have to be so loud?”
“You barged into my house.”
“Still…” I slumped over, sliding along the counter until I fell to the floor. “Ugh, that hurt.”
“Then you shouldn’t have fallen.”
“Aren’t you going to help me up?” I asked, my voice muffled by the floor pressed against my face.
I was hauled up not-so-gently and shoved onto a barstool that I questioned could actually keep me in place. But it was better than trying to stand on my own two feet.
“The kettle doesn’t work,” I mumbled.
“What’s your point?”
“You’re a man,” I said, assuming that was enough information for him to go on.
How wrong I was.
He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at me.
Why did I have to explain this? Shouldn’t it be self-explanatory? I didn’t have the brainpower for this today.
“You’re a man, so you should know what’s wrong.”
“Well, call me crazy, but it usually helps if it’s plugged in.”
“And you think I didn’t think of that?” I snapped, though I probably sounded more like a kitten meowing than a dog barking.
He grabbed the plug and stuck it in the outlet, then put the kettle on the base and pressed the button.
And it worked.
“Did you check it?”
Had I unplugged it when I brought it over? That was too hard to think about right now. In fact, most everything was making my head spin.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with this stuff?”
I peeled an eye open and looked over what I brought. “The leaves go in a—” God, what was the word for it? “You know the thingy with the holes?”
His gray eyes didn’t leave my face, nor did he show any signs of knowing what I was talking about.
“You know, the thing with the…and the…” I made a ball out of my fist and shook it.
Grabbing the leaves, he opened my fist, pressed the leaves into my palm, and closed my hand again. “There.”
“That’s not what I mean!”
“Well, that’s pretty much what you said.”
“Is not!”
“Is too.”
While I was getting all worked up, he was as cool as a cucumber, staring at me like I was the most boring thing in the world.
Grunting in frustration, I shook the leaves onto the counter and hopped off the stool, nearly falling over in the process.
“What are you looking for?” he asked as I started rummaging through his cabinets.
“The thingy!”
Grabbing me by the arms, he directed me out of his kitchen and back to my stool, where he pushed me down.
“Sit before you hurt yourself.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, but he had already turned around and hadn’t seen me. God, my head was killing me. I just needed my damn tea. I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying desperately to rid the toxins from my body.
This was never going to work. I couldn’t function like this, and as long as he refused to help me, my day would continue to go downhill.
“How long?”
Sighing, I opened my eyes and gaped at the tea in the strainer. “You—but you said you didn’t know what I was talking about!”
“Actually, I never said I didn’t know. I didn’t understand your hand motions, but I’m well aware of where tea leaves go.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I decided to take the high road. Mostly because I needed the damn tea. “Four minutes.”
As soon as the kettle dinged, he poured the water into my mug, dipping the strainer into the hot water.
“Thank you,” I muttered grudgingly. “Any chance you have any cookies?”
“For a hangover?” he asked, the skepticism as clear as day.
“You weren’t well-liked as a child, were you?”
“You know, the hair of the dog might help.”
“Not a chance in hell.” Just the thought sent my stomach into churning overdrive.
“How long am I going to have to put up with you sitting at my counter?”
“Until I’m able to move without feeling like I’m going to fall over. Unless you want to carry me back home.”
His eyes drifted toward the door in consideration. “Already did that once.”
“So, tell me, Tennessee,” I mumbled, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “Why did you help me out last night?”
“Because if you stayed in the bar, I’d have to clean up puke and piss.”
“You did it because you’re a nice guy.”
“Never been accused of that.” He nodded to the mug. “Drink your tea.”
“It’s not steeped yet. Why can’t you just admit that you were being nice?”
“If I was being nice, I would have put you to bed. You’re not wearing shoes, by the way.”
I looked down at my feet and frowned. So, that’s why it hurt when I kicked the door. “You took off my boots.”
“Yes, that is the definition of a nice guy,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Drink your tea.”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why do you want me to drink my tea?”
“Because the sooner you drink your tea, the faster you’ll leave.”
“What if I decide to stay?”
“Then I’ll leave.”
“You’ll leave me in your house?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
“If it means ending this discussion, absolutely.”
“You’re very odd.”
“Maybe, but you’re the one who walked over here with a kettle, tea leaves, and a mug.”
“Why can’t you admit that you’re just nice?”
He leaned forward on the counter, his nose just an inch from mine. He was so close that I could lean forward and press my lips to his nice, full lips. Not that I would, except…
Except, his scent was intoxicating, and that very broad, very muscular chest was making me think of things that I shouldn’t be. Like how it felt when his arms wrapped around my body, or what it would be like to lick his chest while—
“Josie, let me make something very clear to you right now. I am not—nor will I ever be a nice guy.”