Page 11 of The Accidental Honeymoon

“I’ll take it.” I grin at her mischievously. “How about another shot?”

The night stretches on. And for a while, reality does wait.

four

CALLA

My first semi-consciousthought is that my head feels like a piñata, post-party. Shifting in place, I groan. I’m not in my warm, soft bed. I’m lying on something way too hard.

I am tempted to just roll over and try to go back to sleep. But something flashes brightly, very close to my face. Even though my eyes are clenched shut, the after effects of the flash mark an agonizingly bright square in the darkness.

I open my eyes a slit to try to understand what could be flashing.

Whatever it is, it needs to stop. Right. Now.

I’m halfway blinded by another flash. “Oh, I think she’s awake,” giggles a feminine voice.

My vision begins to clear enough for me to make out two figures a few feet away. There’s a white picket fence between us, which is pretty confusing. Did I fall asleep in a yard somehow? The taller of the two figures, this one vaguely male in shape, leans in for a better look.

“We’d better jet. She doesn’t look happy.”

As I push myself up, the two scuttle away. Only I’m toooverwhelmed by nausea to notice. My head pounds. The taste in my mouth is distinctly fermented tequila, which makes me doubly nauseous.

Unpleasantly, I become aware of several very important facts all at once.

One, the place I’ve been napping? It’s the Greater town square gazebo.

Two, it’s freezing cold outside. I’m shivering and shaking, my teeth chattering.

Three, I’m very much not alone.

Jay lies next to me, his dark hair a disheveled mess, his chiseled features softened by sleep. We’re wrapped in a single blanket. A terrifying thought strikes me. I peek underneath the fabric, catching an eyeful of velvety skin, a dusting of body hair, and abs.

That’s when I make the final discovery.

Me and Jay?

We’re naked.

Together.

Oh.

My.

GOD.

My kneejerk reaction is to sit up straight and snatch the thick wool blanket to my chest. The entire world tilts. For a second, I’m lost.

But in the back of my mind, I’m already asking the pertinent questions. Like, how the hell did we get here? The last thing I remember is a round of tequila shots at Tin Shed Pub.

Or was it two rounds?

“Calla?” Jay’s voice is a gravelly whisper. He rubs his eyes and squints at me. “What the hell?”

“I have no idea.” My voice sounds squeaky with panic. Iscan the square, taking in the historic brick buildings and the grassy area in the center. It’s eerily quiet for early on a Saturday morning. Too quiet.

A figure jogs toward us, and my heart stops. It’s a young woman holding a smartphone and grinning like an idiot.

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