Jacked (29 page)

SOFT BREATHING COMING
from behind me was the first thing I’d noticed when my eyes opened to the darkness. It was a gentle and manly snore—rhythmic, peaceful—something I hadn’t realized my soul was parched without. He was definitely asleep and I couldn’t help but want to savor the moment.

Adam.

Just the whispered thought of his name triggered the escalation of my heartbeat with flutters; unfortunately though, that moment of elation was immediately followed up by a Mariachi band tap dancing in my head. My throat was dry, sore, and hinted of an aftertaste that was very distinguishable and completely unpleasant.

One too many shots of pity-flavored tequila combined with beef gravy and deep fryer oil roiled through my stomach again, exacerbated by the recollection that I vomited profusely in Adam’s toilet.

I closed my eyes, recalling how he’d hovered over me as I hurled my guts and my dignity.
Oh God, how
embarrassing
.

I hadn’t been that sick on alcohol since my freshman year of college when I learned the hard way that mixing alcohol inside your internal organs usually doesn’t work out so well.

I ran my hand over the soft pillowcase and then over my face, thinking that taking the walk of shame was all that was left of another monumental catastrophe in my history with men. But damn, his pillow and this bed were comfortable. It was as if I were cradled in the soft pillow top of the mattress, giving my body the sensation of floating on a lovely cloud. I slid a foot, realizing that I was no longer wearing socks because I could feel the silky sheets without obstruction.

When did I lose my socks?

Oh cripes
…
my legs are bare, too. What the hell am I wearing?

The memories came back with painful clarity: Adam stripping off my socks and laughing without humor at my condition; him pulling a shirt over my head while holding me steady.

Oh God, how pathetic. I will never, ever, ever get that drunk again. What was I thinking? Oh, yeah
…
the four-hundred different ways my life sucked.

I’d been on this path for so long, this “I have to become a doctor and never fail another human being again” endless loop, that I’d stopped paying attention to everything else going on around me.

There’s nothing worse to top a hangover than a healthy dose of self-loathing. I listened to Adam’s steady breathing, wondering what his reaction to me would be when he woke up. Maybe I should just leave. Get dressed and sneak out, leave him undisturbed and avoid seeing him struggle for a subtle way to get rid of me. He’d been nothing but kind to me so far tonight, so I was betting he wouldn’t be a complete asshole while washing his hands of the puking mess.

But it was still dark out, I was warm and toasty and comfortable, and maybe, just maybe I could get another hour of sleep in before slipping out undetected?

As I lay there thinking about my options, that urge
to go
hit me. My mind did the mental math trying to determine how long I could lay here before having to pee goes from necessity to urgency.

I leaned up on my elbow and squinted, mapping out a path to his bathroom in the dark. His window coverings were so thick, even the streetlight didn’t break through.

A large hand slid over my hip. “Where you going?” he grumbled.

Shit.
I cleared my rancid throat. “I have to go.”

His hand gently clenched me through the covers. “No, you don’t. Lay down, babe. Go back to sleep.”

Was he worried I’d leave? A small simper erupted from hearing him call me “babe”. “I have to use the bathroom.”

His hand tensed, eased, and then quickly slid away. “You feeling sick again?”

“No, just have to use the bathroom.”

“You sure?”

I nodded in the dark. “Yeah.”

Adam took a deep breath and yawned. “Light switch is on the left, inside the door. Yell if you need me.”

I glanced back at his darkened silhouette; one very impressive shoulder was bare and visible to the naked eye. He was on his side, right behind me. This was all so very confusing. He’d avoided me for what? A week? And now he’s practically spooning with me?

And then he called me
babe
? Even after making an idiot out of myself, defiling his private space, he had a pet name for me? A chill hit my bare legs and feet while the residual drunkenness made me crave to lie back down. It made the need to pee even more urgent.

I gently closed the door behind me, squinting at the sudden brightness of the lights above the vanity. I flipped the next switch, finding the overhead fan. The third switch turned on the recessed lighting, which wasn’t so hard on my bloodshot eyes. Now that I wasn’t so ill, I was able to absorb more of his very nicely appointed bathroom.

He had a large, glass-encased shower with what looked like sandstone tiles in soothing earth tones that dominated the space. Two shower heads.
Nice.
The vanity was dark mahogany and looked like an oversized antique chest of drawers with a beautiful granite countertop and black metal loops for pulls that coordinated with everything. It was rustic and gave the room a very masculine spa-like vibe.

The entire bathroom looked brand new, completely remodeled, and made me think that my bathroom in my house was an outdated joke compared to what he had going on. A hot shower in that tempting space would certainly feel like heaven right now. A hot shower with someone as sexy as Adam in there with me sounded even better.

I rubbed my face, trying to push away the slight spins. I was glad he made me take aspirin before I tried to lie down.
Maybe he really does like me? He did leave wherever he was to come pick me up. That has to count for something. Doesn’t it? And he called me “babe.” Why would he do that if he didn’t have some sort of feelings for me, unless I was just one of several babes. Could we be back together? Wait, we were never
together
. But I was just sleeping next to him in his bed. Is that? Are we? What does that mean? Oh my God, my head hurts.

I pulled the last five squares of paper off the roll.
Figures
. Everything was so pristine and yet there were no visible extra rolls? I leaned forward, catching the edge of the vanity door with the tips of my fingernails, fumbling and coming up empty.

I washed up, rinsed my mouth out several times, and contemplated whether searching for a new roll of toilet paper would be considered snooping.

I gingerly pressed the door handle down on the linen closet, peering inside for anything that resembled a roll.

Even his closet was neat. Well, the towels were shoved into a haphazard pile, but they were folded. Huh, a bachelor that folds stuff? I glanced back at the shower, noting two dark brown towels hanging over the top of the glass.

He had a few rolls of paper wedged under another pile of towels that required shifting the load off of them. That’s when I noticed the pink, green, and baby blue swirl on the edge of a box.

I pulled the box free, my bleary eyes taking in the words “plastic applicator” and “fresh scent.”

Disappointment cracked into my chest and up into my skull like a lightning strike. Sure enough, there on the shelf right next to the empty space where the box had been was a ladies’ deodorant stick.
What the hell else does he have in here?

I wanted to go on a complete tear through, looking for more evidence, but a brand new box of thirty-six tampons was pretty much all the proof I needed.

I shoved the box back in its spot, berating myself for once again falling for the suave bullshit. I may not be the most experienced when it came to the shit guys keep in their bathrooms, but tampons were definitely not one of them. Reminded me of the time I found a discarded birth control pack in Randy’s apartment. He never did give me a good explanation, either. Bastard.

I left the bathroom light on and cracked the door, illuminating his bedroom enough for me to find my clothes and get the fuck out of there. My ten-minute fantasy was just shot to hell and I had no desire to stitch it up or even confront him with it.

We didn’t have a formed relationship and I had no right making a big to-do out of the fact that he obviously has a steady woman in his life who parks her fresh-scented shit in his closet.

I found my jeans and one of my socks; the other sock was missing somewhere and if it meant that I’d have to stay here a second longer looking for it, the sock would end up a casualty of war.

I shucked his shorts off and crammed my toes into a sock, balancing precariously on one foot in my hung-over irate state.

A light flicked on, freezing me like a deer caught in headlights.

“What are you doing?” Adam grumbled low.

Shit
. I curbed my frustrated anger and went for an innocent smirk and a
“quiet walk of shame with as much dignity as possible”
moment.

“Oh, sorry. I tried not to wake you. It’s, um, late, and I have to go.”

The covers slipped down his bare chest when he propped his head up. “Go?” He glanced over at his clock. “It’s five twenty-two in the morning, Erin. You got someplace to be?”

My mind blanked. “Yeah.”

His eyes narrowed. “Now? You have someplace to be at five thirty
a.m
.?”

I nodded while ineptly cramming a leg into my jeans. I nearly fell over; my balance was shit. “Yeah, I have this thing. But thanks for…” Saying
everything
at that moment seemed so cheesy.
For holding my hair while I puked?

When he sat up, the sheets dropped, exposing his deliciously bare chest and those incredible arms and sexy-as-hell rope tattoos that wrapped onto very impressive pecs… making me wonder for a second if I was being too hasty. He should arrest himself for being so insanely sexy that it should be illegal. But knowing my luck, his woman would be coming home soon anyway.

“Hold up. Five minutes ago you were sleeping. Now you’re running a race to get the hell out of here? What the fuck happened from the time you got out of my bed to now?”

Do I accuse him?
Nah
. Best if I just leave without making a spectacle of myself. I’m wiser now and he can play all the games he wants with the next hopeful who crawls into his bed, but that won’t be me. No way was I going to get fooled twice.

“Nothing. I just have to go.”

Adam frowned. “Bullshit.”

I could tell that I’d angered him.

“You have to go to work or something? Pretty sure they won’t appreciate you coming into the hospital in your condition.”

“I don’t go in until Sunday night,” I blurted, inadvertently wasting my only plausible excuse.

He craned his neck, glancing at the dark window in his bedroom. “You hear that?”

I stopped moving, concentrating on some mysterious noise.

“That’s the sound of heavy snow and sleet hitting the window. You aren’t going anywhere.”

“I’ll be all right.”

He gazed down at my bare foot. “With one sock and no car? What the hell, Erin?”

Oh, you want to be grumpy with me?
“Are you even wearing any clothes under there?”

He flopped the bedding back, exposing what looked like dark cotton sleep pants riding dangerously low on his beveled hips. “I usually sleep naked.” He was out of bed and in my face three seconds later. “What’s going on with you? The truth.”

I watched him cross his beefy arms over his chest, waiting. We were at a draw and I was in knots, just like the braided artwork on his body. Fine. He wanted to know so damn bad, I’d tell him. “I shouldn’t be here.”

His brow tipped up. “No?”

“No.”

“Who says?”

I wanted to laugh. “I wasn’t snooping.”

“Excuse me?”

Gah! I wished I had my full wits about me. I knew my words would not come out of my still inebriated brain properly. “I used the last of the toilet paper.”

“And?”

“And I needed more. Listen, you obviously have a girlfriend and I don’t want to go into the many reasons why I need to go.”

“Wait. Hold up. I have a what?”

I wanted to shove him for playing dumb. “A girlfriend. A wife. I don’t know. Whatever. I got a new roll of toilet paper out of the closet and that’s when… You have an entire box of tampons and shit in there, Adam. Girl’s deodorant and hairspray and stuff. Listen, it’s cool. Thanks for helping me out but I’m in no condition to defend myself when your woman gets home.”

He gave me such an angered look, it shook me a moment. “Do not move,” he ordered harshly before turning for the bathroom. I watched him shove the door out of his way; another sound told me he was in his linen closet.

He walked back with the box gripped in his hand. “This what you found?”

I nodded. “Listen, Adam. It’s cool. You don’t owe me any explanations, really.”

“Well, now I think I do, seeing as you are running out of my bedroom like your ass is on fire, willing to go out in the middle of the night
into a blizzard
to get away from me.”

He had a point.
Blizzard? Shit
. Guess I’ll be moving out to a couch for a few hours instead of walking home.

He held the box up and took a deep breath. “Box is still sealed, right?”