Page 1 of Sugar Coated Secrets

1

FORD

My eyes slide open. I wait a minute for the fog to clear and my eyes to refocus. My head pounds like someone repeatedly beats a drum. The light from the sun shines across the ceiling in ripples like the morning tide. The hotel room smells like alcohol, stale perfume, and sex.

I close my eyes for a second before I look over at the bottled blonde sleeping on the bed with her mouth open and last night’s makeup smeared across her face. I don’t even like blondes. I don’t remember much of anything from last night except hands, eyes, a woman’s tongue, and a lot of touching.What is her name?I don’t remember.

I don’t do drugs, but I’ll get drunk after I win a race or when I go out on the weekends when I’m homesick.This life is getting old, though.

After four years of traveling and racing around the world, I want to go home.

I grab my phone and check the time. There’s a notification saying my flight leaves in three hours.

The nameless woman reaches out, and I quickly grab the bed sheet off the floor and wrap it around my waist. After five shotsis one thing, but sobered by the harsh morning light, I want nothing more than to run away from her.

“Ford,” she whines, reaching for me. “Come back to bed.”

For whatever reason, the thought of her touching me pisses me off. I have to get away.

This is the part I hate. The cruel reality when I have to break it to them. They call my name like they know me and expect more, and I watch their hope fade when they realize that one night hasn’t changed me.

“I have to go,” I say flatly. “Call the concierge, and they can get you a ride.”

She peers at me under her eyelashes, looking like a raccoon.

She doesn’t know this is not my hotel room, and I actually have the penthouse on the top floor. I rent a standard room for my one-night stands.

“I didn’t want to believe what they said about you.” She sits up, causing her small breasts to peek out as she reaches for the scrap of fabric she calls a dress from the side of the bed. “That you were an asshole.”

“Now you know.”

“I thought we had something.”

Here we go.

“I didn’t bring you to a hotel room because you were special.” I walk over to the chair where I tossed my pants and shirt last night.

She grabs her shoes with a huff. “You brought me here to fuck.”

“You’re catching on. Check-out is at eleven o’clock. I’m sure you know how the door works.”

She walks into the bathroom and shuts the door with a thud.

I quickly dress, grab my phone and keys, and rush out of the room before she comes back. I press the button repeatedly for the elevator while I dial my manager.

He finally picks up when the elevator door opens. “Hey, man. How was your night with the blonde?”

I press the button for the penthouse, hoping she doesn’t run out with her phone to snap a picture and post it to social media. It’s happened before.

“Boring,” I drawl. “Listen, Derek, make sure she leaves the room by eleven.”

“You got it, Ford. You need anything before your flight?”

“Yeah, chocolate raisin cookies from Sugar…”

“Sugar Coated Sweets, I got it. Anything else?”

“Place a to-go order for when I get there.”

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