Page 8 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
My body clock pulls me from sleep, smug and punctual, blissfully unaware of the mess waiting in my memories. The sheets are warm, the air smells faintly of coffee drifting from somewhere close to me. I stretch with a yawn, wincing at the dull ache that radiates from my temples. That’s what I get for taking tequila shots with Ella last night.
Chasing the smell of coffee, I push the comforter off me and sit up on the bed. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light in the room, and when they do, I nearly fall off the bed when I see the person seated on the sofa right next to the bed, drinking coffee, his eyes on me.
I look around, confused, wondering if I’m in the wrong room. But I didn’t even get to see Ella’s room last night, and they probably all look the same anyway.
“Um, where is Ella?” I question, feeling muddled.
Beck doesn’t say anything, just stares at me and continues drinking his coffee. It smells so good, and I want some, but I’m scared to ask, especially since I’m still trying to gather my bearings.
“What are you doing in here?” I whisper, pulling the covers back over me as if to hide myself away from him.
“It’s my room. Where did you expect me to go?” he finally answers me.
His room? What am I doing in Beck’s hotel room?! What happened yesterday?
I comb through my memories for answers, and that’s when last night starts bleeding back in.
“You drugged me?!” I scream when I recall that particular detail.
Beck scoffs and gets up from the sofa. “Drugged you? What do you take me for? You drugged yourself, assuming Molly was aspirin. I was kind enough to take care of you, so you should be thanking me, not cursing me out.”
I rummage around my brain for more of last night’s memories and realize that he’s right. My head was killing me after Ella andI came from the bathroom. I found Beck by the bar, holding a pill, and I was the one who assumed that it was aspirin and took it from him. He even offered to help me throw it up, but I’ve got no gag reflex.
He made me drink water, but after that, I do not remember much. Bowing my head in shame, I look up to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, and thank you.”
He nods at me and hands me the coffee mug in his hand. “You’re welcome.”
I take it from him, causing the comforter to fall off me, and that’s when I’m able to take in the state of my undress. I clearly remember wearing pants and a shirt yesterday, but right now I’m in an oversized t-shirt that smells like Beck.
“What did we do?” I inquire in a panic when I realize there’s more to last night.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t remember much after taking the pill, so would you please care to explain why I’m naked underneath your shirt? Did you take off my clothes?” I demand.
“No, you did that all on your own.”
“And why would I do that?”
“You claimed to be hot.”
Fragments of my memory flash through my mind of me trying to take my clothes off in the club and Beck stopping me. He brought me to his room to prevent me from embarrassing myself, and then… what?
“So nothing happened?” I whisper, afraid of the answer.
He takes a seat on the bed and leans in so that we are only a few inches apart. He smells of aftershave and shampoo, which means he must have recently taken a shower. I recall complimenting his short hair last night while seated on his lap.
What did I do?
“Do you really want to know?” he questions, his eyebrow cocked at me.
He’s making me nervous, so I pull back and put some distance between us. “Just tell me—did we have sex or not?” I stress, a bit frustrated.
“We did not, but—“
I hold my hand up to stop him. “That’s all I need to know.”
He looks taken aback by the fact that I don’t want to know more, but as long as I didn’t have sex with him, I don’t need to know the rest. It’s probably embarrassing, and I’d rather not know, or at least not hear it from him. Maybe when I’ve cured my hangover, the memories will slowly come back to me.
