Page 22 of Be My Bride

She’s wearing nothing under that blanket.

Damn.

“Is this a dream?”

She smacks my chest. The slap of her palm against my flesh echoes loudly. “This isn’t a freaking dream, you jerk.” Anger blazes from her dark brown eyes. “What kind of thoughts have you been having about me?” Her trim eyebrows slant together until they form one pointed V. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”

I scrape my hand against my stubble. Feel the bristles rub against my palm.

Dots are connecting in my head, and they’re painting one hell of a picture.

I glance around the room. Catch the way our clothes are strewn haphazardly, as if a whirlwind blew through the place and left destruction in its wake.

I barely remember taking my clothes off.

Barely remember taking her clothes off.

My gaze returns to Asia. “How long have you been up?”

“Not important.” Asia shoves her finger in my face. “This is.”

At first, I assume she’s flipping me off.

But it’s not that simple.

My eyes catch on a ring.

A diamond ring.

Hell.

“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Hansley.”

I can only stare at her as my mind trips over empty space.

“Tell me we didn’t get freaking married last night!”

“Can you give me a minute?” I snap. “I’m trying to… damn. I can’t remember exactly.”

There are impressions in my mind.

Bumping into Asia at a bar.

Buying her another drink.

Talking.

Tears. Hers, of course.

Drinking some more.

I shake my head and the movement feels like I’m stabbing knives into my own skull. “We didn’t get married.”

“Yes, we did.”

“Does that make sense?”

"None of this makes sense.”

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