Page 31 of The Fangirl and the Crooner

He rubs a palm down his bare chest as he says that last bit, and I’m pretty sure at this point, I’m having a very realistic hallucination brought on by copious amounts of tequila. Or an out of body experience.

Or I died last night and this is my own personal heaven.

“That’s for you,” he says, pointing toward the coffee machine where a full mug of steaming coffee rests beneath the spout.

“Thank you,” I reply, moving forward to take it before pulling my chocolate creamer from the fridge.

After I’ve doctored it up the way I like it, I take my coffee to the table and slide into a chair. Bram plates the pancake he’s been cooking, then pours some fresh batter into the pan. Turning to face me, he gives me a compassionate look.

“How’s your head?”

“It feels like there’s a dozen tiny jackhammers going off in there, but I’ll survive,” I say. “Thanks for the aspirin. And for taking care of me last night. I don’t know what got into me.”

Liar.

He nods, and turns back to his cooking. I allow my gaze to rove over his back for only a moment, then force myself to look down at my coffee before I do something stupid. I keep my gaze averted while he finishes breakfast, and a few minutes later, he appears beside me and sets down a plate with two fluffy pancakes and three slices of bacon on it.

“Thank you,” I murmur, then watch as he sets his own plate down and plucks a t-shirt from the back of his chair before sliding it on and taking the seat across from me.

Pity.

No. Notpity.Good. It’s good he’s fully dressed and not tempting me.

I almost roll my eyes at that thought. This man would tempt me in a potato sack.

We eat in silence for a while, but the quiet leaves me feeling unsettled and a bit itchy. I need to say something. Anything.

“I really am sorry for last night,” I say again when I can’t think of anything else.

Bram shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize. I deal with people who over-imbibe on a regular basis, and as far as drunks go, you’re a very cute one.”

My face heats at the compliment. “Did I embarrass myself? Or anyone else? I don’t remember much after the second pitcher of margaritas arrived. You made it strong.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah. You were good. You just got sleepy, so I brought you home.”

I search my memories and I vaguely recall him leading me from the bar. I work backwards, trying to remember anything else, and then my entire body stiffens as the fog in my head clears a bit.

Oh, God.I told Bram to take me tohisbed. In front of everyone.

Kill me. Kill me, now.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper to myself as the memory replays through my head.

“What?” Bram asks, startling me.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, and he watches me for a moment before shrugging and refocusing on his food.

Relief trickles through me. Either he doesn’t remember what I said, or he’s gentleman enough not to repeat it and embarrass me further.

I’m good with either. I just want to forget it ever happened.

Chapter

Twenty

Bram

Ah, she remembers what she said last night.

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