Page 7 of Taming Scarlet

“Ugh. Shut up,” I grumbled to myself, not placing the sound as it stopped, then continued again.

The sun was screaming in my bedroom, making me squeeze my eyes shut as soon as I attempted to open them.

In retrospect, those last two shots of tequila had not been a great idea.

It had been a bachelorette party. It wasn’t like I could say no.

“What?” I barked as the noise stopped and began again.

I’d been louder than I’d intended, making my dog let out a little yip of objection.

“You probably need to go potty,” I said to him without opening my eyes.

Hugh let out another yip that had me folding up in bed, arms going high up over my head.

My mascara was sticking together, desperately trying to keep my eyes closed. But after a few blinks, I looked over at Hugh, sitting there in all of his three-pound glory, his gorgeous merle fur still perfect after rolling around in bed for hours.

I was sure I was not so lucky.

“Okay. Come on, buddy,” I said as I swung my legs off of the bed.

Hugh made a mad dash for his steps, flying down them with a speed he shouldn’t have been capable of with his tiny legs.

I caught a look at myself in the mirror as I moved out of my bedroom and into the common space.

I’d been right.

I was not as lucky as Hugh.

Ilookedlike I’d had one too many tequila shots.

My pink silk sleep mask was up on my forehead, making my dark brown hair push up as well. The rest of it was all tangled.

My black liner and mascara were smeared under my eyes and what was left of my red lipstick was a violent slash across my cheek.

As I let Hugh out onto the patio with his specially designed little potty spot full of wood mulch, I lifted my ever-present phone, zooming in on my smeared lipstick, and taking a picture.

I posted it to my story.

No smear, twenty-four-hour wear, my ass. What gives @LaurieLoreCosmetics

By the time I finished posting, the damn noise started up again.

And I was finally awake enough to recognize it for what it was.

The intercom.

Someone wanted to be let up.

Had I ordered food before I passed out?

Or have an appointment? A massage? Nails?

I had no idea.

I marched over to unlock the elevator then made my way over to the kitchen, turning on my espresso machine.

I was still tamping down the grounds into the portafilter when my door slid open.

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