Page 78 of Fall for You
But at least the pillow was delectable, and the mattress was…delicious. The bedding was soft, and cozy, with a big down comforter, and…
And this was not her bed.
She cracked one eye open, which led to instant regret and another groan. Where was she?
Memories from the night before were coming back slowly and in patches. She remembered one of Margot’s friends saying she could crash. Okay. That was good. So now…what time was it?
A jolt of alarm had both eyes popping open. Shoot. What about lunch?
Not daring to move her pounding head, she pulled her hands free of the neatly tucked covers and patted the bed, looking for her phone.
No luck.
She went to wiggle, but she was really firmly tucked in, and a turn of her head revealed a glass of water and some aspirin beside her.
Huh. How sweet. Someone had really taken care of her last night. She’d have to thank Margot’s friend…if she could remember her name.
Ugh!
But first… “Phone. Must call the inn.”
Wrestling out of her cozy fortress, she groaned, propping her head in her hand and begging the room to stop swimming. If it could just stay still for a second, she’d be able to find her phone and call the inn.
Trying again, she took things more slowly and scanned the nightstand for her phone, then glanced down the bed to the end table she spotted.
Nope. She was phoneless.
And it wasn’t like she could jump out of bed and start rummaging around in this room. She didn’t dare make any more big movements, not with the way her head was pounding and the contents of her stomach were sloshing.
Ugh. What had she been drinking? And…what happened after the dancing portion of the evening? She had a hazy memory of a handsy jerk, but then…
Then she was crying on some guy’s chest?
What the…?
She covered her eyes. How embarrassing.
With a deep breath, she dropped her hand and tried to game-plan. First things first: Find the phone. Call her fam to tell them she was alive, but they’d need to cover lunch. Find Margot’s friend and thank her. Get a ride back to the inn and?—
The door creaked open, and Willow sat up a little straighter, ready to put on a grateful smile and thank?—
Uh… what?
The air in her lungs froze, her eyes bulging as…
Eric walked in.
Eric freakin’ Spencer was standing in this bedroom…staring at her.
And while she should have been screaming bloody murder, instead she found herself wondering just how awful she looked with her bedhead and smeared makeup.
Bad, probably.
Very, very bad.
She reached up and pushed her curls out of her face, her voice all high and breathless. “Eric? What…how…?” She gave her head a little shake.
Bad idea. Very bad idea.
