Page 13 of Forever Yours

In the Uber back to my hotel, I might have been in shock. When I stripped off last night’s dress and stood under scalding hot water in the shower, I was still in shock. Then when I’d climbed into bed to try to get some sleep, since I’d only gotten an hour or two, I was definitely in shock. And wide awake.

I couldn’t stop thinking about sleeping with Trenton Mazer. More than that, though, it had been amazing.Hehad been amazing. By the time we’d fallen asleep, my body had been completely satiated.

Georgia had been right—I’d needed to go out and celebrate making it ontoSing Battle.What better way of doing that than hooking up with the hottest man I’d ever met?

The only damper on my warm memories was how I’d left. Though from a safe distance, I felt warm and fuzzy about the encounter, when I’d awoken in a strange bed with Trenton—whom I’d only known a few hours—beside me, I might have freaked out a little. Okay, a lot.I wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl. I didn’t know the protocol. So I’d made an executive decision and scampered out of there to the sound of Trenton’s light snores, telling myself I was doing us both a favor by avoiding the awkward morning-after chat.

Things always looked much different in the stark light of day. The thing with Trenton was that he actually looked better, if that was even possible. As I was leaving, the sunlight had just started creeping into the room, illuminating his tanned chest and taut abs that led down to… Let’s just say he was blessed, and he knew how to use that blessing.

It was too bad we’d met under the circumstances we had. Though he was famous and I was just me, there had been a spark between us, and it had been more than just physical. But I couldn’t afford to be distracted, not when I was so close to getting everything I wanted. Last night had been great, but it was over, which meant it was time to focus.

Since I was obviously not going to get any more sleep, I ran around the corner to the local convenience store to stock up on provisions. It was noon by the time I knocked on Georgia’s door, equipped with fresh coffee, hot tea, bottled water, bananas, muffins, and doughnuts. I didn’t know Georgia well enough to know what her hangover food of choice was.

“Go away!” came her muffled response. “I’m dying.”

“Let me in!” I called back, looking around to see if anyone was witnessing the spectacle. Even if no one was watching, they could probably hear it.

“Let me die in peace!”

“I have coffee!” I hoped that might be enough to rouse her. “And doughnuts!”

There was a pause. “Do they have sprinkles?”

Damn it.I didn’t have all my bases covered after all. By the time I’d made it to the doughnut shop, the selection had been limited. “Sorry. Just glazed and powdered sugar.”

A few moments later, the door opened. “Fine,” she said with a huff. “I suppose glazed is good enough.” She looked horrible. Last night’s eye makeup was halfway down her cheeks, and lipstick was smeared on her chin. Her hair was sticking out a good five inches on the left side and was flat against her skull on the right. She was wearing only a massive T-shirt. Because I valued my life, I didn’t comment.

She stepped back so I could enter. I spread my offerings on the small dinette table. “How are you feeling?”

She rooted around in the doughnut bag and selected a glazed doughnut. “Not bad, all things considered. Getting that food last night was clutch.”

I frowned at her. “You got food?”

She nodded. “The standard post-drinking meal—double-bacon cheeseburger, large fries, and a Diet Coke.”

I gaped at her. “You ate all that?”

Nodding, she shoved half the doughnut in her mouth.

I shook my head. “I would think greasy food on top of the alcohol would upset your stomach.”

She swallowed. “I have an iron stomach. I never puke, even though I sometimes wish I could. But enough about me.” Her eyes gleamed, and some color had returned to her cheeks. “Trenton Mazer. Tell me everything. Start with how you met him. Don’t leave out any details.”

Georgia wasn’t the only one who’d lost brain cells to alcohol. I wasn’t nearly as tipsy as she was, and I’d stupidly walked into the wrong bathroom. Considering I would never see Trenton again, that little nugget was going with me to the grave.

I shrugged. “I just ran into him.”

She tapped her chin. “That seems too simple.”

I turned away in the guise of selecting a muffin. I’d never been a good liar. Perhaps that was why the stage name didn’t feel right when I’d given it to Trenton.

Not one to be put off when seeking information, Georgia came up behind me. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I spun to find her inches from my face. “Nothing,” I squeaked.

She eyed me. “You’re lucky I’m hungover. But that part isn’t important, anyway.” She gripped my arms. “Tell me about last night.”

As thoughts of the night with him flooded my mind, I couldn’t help but sigh and smile.

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