Page 18 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
Shaking my head, I willed my thumb to close the video but managed to open the comments instead. Those phones, as big as they might be, weren’t made for someone with hands and fingers as big as mine.
Reading through the comments made me smile, laugh, and angry at the same time. The viewers or readers or whatever they were seemed to love Bailey. A little too much for my liking.
I mean, I got it. Complimenting someone was great, especially on the internet where people tended to be nasty, but… the comments were sometimes bordering on inappropriate. Who offered themselves on a silver platter like that in a comment on a video by a publishing house? Didn’t they realize this was his job? He wasn’t stripping, he wasn’t trying to be sexy or flirty or anything like that, yet I’d already found the fifth comment about someone wanting to suck his dick or fuck him.
Subsequently, I’d found the fifth guy I wanted to punch in the face for being so nasty.
Groaning, I put my phone down on the nightstand, pulling the pillow back over my face. How much alcohol had those bubbly, fuzzy cider drinks contained? For me to start having those thoughts, it must’ve been a lot.
Which meant I’d have to sleep it off. And tomorrow, my head would be back to normal.
Hopefully.
* * *
I was warm, comfortable, and surrounded by the sweetest of scents. A little like honey but combined with a spiciness I couldn’t identify. Taking in a deep breath, I burrowed my nose deeper into the aroma letting my mind wander back to the hazy remnants of sleep lurking at the edges of my consciousness.
When was the last time I’d slept so peacefully at a strange place?
I couldn’t remember. But the sheets were soft, the comforter so incredibly warm, and the scented pillow… was moving. And sighing.
Opening my eyes in shock, my hands were already on the moving pillow, pushing it away as hard as I could. What the actual fuck?
“Ouch!”
Oh shit.
Oh holy shit.
Oh no, no, no.
Blinking hard against the bright morning sun, I tried finding Bailey’s blond mop of hair — aka my pillow — but couldn’t. There was just the end of the bed and… My brain was stuttering, trying to catch up with everything that was going on.
I’d obviously cuddled Bailey in my sleep, not a pillow. I’d shoved him when I’d thought my pillow was moving. So he should be laying on his side of the bed. Only… I was the one laying on his side of the bed, which meant Bailey was…on the floor.
Carefully peeking over the edge of the bed, I saw my… companion for the weekend sitting on the hardwood floor, rubbing his elbow, face contorted with pain.
My chest tightened, and I balled my hand into fists.
“I’m so sorry,” I said ruggedly, voice still heavy with sleep.
“’s okay,” he mumbled, blinking owlishly. “What… what happened?”
Oh great, he’d been asleep, so I’d basically woken him up by literally throwing him out of the bed.
“I… I…” I really didn’t want to explain this one to him.
“It’s okay,” he repeated, voice a little more alert, but there was still no smile on his face. Which made him look… weird. Not like the annoying little shit I’d met yesterday. I definitely didn’t like it. Not that I liked his perky, uber happy attitude, but I didn’t like seeing him in pain because of me, either. “It’s time to get up, anyway.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes, looking up at me with the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you ready to go apple picking? Because that’s the first part of today’s activities.”
I blinked, racking my brain trying to remember when something was said about today’s activities.
Bailey cocked his head, his bright blue eyes studying me for a moment until realization hit him. “Oh… yeah, sorry. You were on the toilet when Sean came over.”
Sean? Who the fuck was Sean?
My confusion must’ve been obvious because Bailey kept talking, his smile widening slowly until his face was back to his usual happy face. “Sean was our server. Well, actually, he’s Lance’s nephew. You know, the owner of this place? But since Lance and his husband never had kids, they asked him if he’d be interested in taking over the orchard one day. No pressure.” A quiet laughter bubbled out of him. “I asked. Anyway, he’s currently in college but on the weekends, he works here to get a feel for the place and, well, pay for college.”
How was that theanyway?
