Page 5 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)

CHARLOTTE

Morning comes too early. Between the drum line in my head throbbing with the remnants of the cocktails from last night and the sun peeking down on me through the curtains, it wakes me up.

My body feels heavy and sluggish. I shift onto my side, trying to relieve the pressure in my belly.

A soft snore comes from behind me. Minny could always sleep through the worst of her hangovers. It’s like her superpower.

The last time I felt like this was after a college pub crawl our junior year. I barely survived it at twenty-one. I have no idea how I will survive it now that I’m in my early thirties.

My stomach lurches. The ungodly mixture of cocktails and whatever we ate rises to the surface at once.

I stumble from the bed, barely making it to the toilet before I erupt.

I heave and heave, feeling the ache down to my toes.

After a few minutes, the nausea subsides, and I’m left weak and drained.

I lean against the cool porcelain and take a deep breath before forcing myself from the floor and step over to the vanity.

The sound of running water fills the room as I wash my face and brush my teeth, trying to rid myself of the taste of last night’s indulgence.

I peer up in the mirror. Dark circles ring my eyes as if I didn’t sleep a wink.

The dress I’d worn last night has been replaced by one of my long, sleep T-shirts.

The faded emblem of a band is barely visible on the front of it.

What happened last night?

My mind is still cloudy, and I can’t piece together anything from the night before. The only thing I remember is the taste of gin and the feeling of Minny’s arm around my waist as we walked through the casino.

As I stagger back into the bedroom, I freeze when I see the bed. Instead of Minny, a shirtless man's silhouette occupies her spot.

I gasp as it dawns on me. There's a man in my bed. My eyes dart around the room until I spot her on the couch, still in last night's dress.

“Minny?” I murmur. She responds with a snore.

Damn. Damn. Damn. What am I supposed to do?

I've never been one for one-night stands.

Terrance was the only man I'd ever been with.

Just how much did I drink last night to end up bringing someone home?

Why didn't she stop me? Oh my God. Was she here the whole time?

My heart is beating so loud I can actually hear it.

My mind races, trying to figure out who he is and how he got here.

I try to recall whether Minny mentioned anything about bringing someone back home with us, but the fog in my brain makes it almost impossible to recollect anything.

I carefully approach the bed, praying he’s still asleep and hasn’t noticed me yet.

When I get closer, I see his broad shoulders and muscular arms with Norse tattoos on full display, and I can feel my cheeks turn pink.

My eyes widen as I take in the stranger’s chiseled abs and broad shoulders, the white sheets barely covering his sinewy muscles.

His face is hidden in the pillow, and messy, long, blond hair falls over his face and pillow.

The man’s chiseled jawline is the only part I can really make out.

Stop ogling the stranger in your bed, Charlotte. Get it together.

He stirs, shifting his large frame, causing the mattress to dip. I realize he’s slowly waking up. My pulse quickens, and I start to feel a little bit panicked. What am I going to say to him? Who is he?

I retreat a few steps, nearly tripping over a discarded shoe. My heart hammers against my ribs as I frantically try to formulate a plan. Do I wake Minny first? Do I just bolt for the door? Do I confront this gorgeous stranger who apparently shared my bed last night?

The man groans—a deep, resonant sound that seems to vibrate in the air between us. He rolls onto his back, one muscular arm draped over his face. The sheet slips dangerously low on his hips, and I quickly look away.

“Christ,” he mutters. “What time is it?”

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I'm frozen, like a deer caught in headlights. When I don't answer, he lifts his arm and blinks at me. Recognition flashes across his face, followed by something that looks suspiciously like amusement.

“Morning, princess,” he says, and there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You look better than anyone has a right to after last night.” He sits up and stretches his muscular arms out wide. “How’s your friend?”

I stare at him like he's speaking a foreign language. Princess? The casual way he says it makes my stomach flip, but not from the hangover this time.

“My friend?” I croak. I gesture weakly toward the couch where Minny lies sprawled like a starfish. “She's...she's fine. Sleeping.”

He chuckles, the sound low and gravelly. “Good. She at least waited to black out until we got back to your room.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and I realize he's wearing boxers. Thank God.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Thor. We didn’t exactly get to exchange names last night before I carried you back here.”

Oh my god. I got drunk, brought this guy back to the room, and did God knows what. I am never drinking again.

“I’m...I’m uh...I’m Charlie. I mean, Charlotte.” I feel my cheeks flush at the implications of his words. I don’t want to think about what might have happened between us. “You carried me back here?”

He looks at me for a beat before getting out of bed to retrieve his shirt hanging on the back of one of the chairs.

I can’t help but follow his movements, admiring how his muscles ripple as he bends over to pick up his jeans. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I’m unsure if it’s from fear or excitement. He turns to me, a boyish smile curling the corners of his lips.

“You don't remember much, do you?”

“I—” My throat feels like sandpaper. “No. I don't remember anything.” The admission makes me feel vulnerable, exposed.

“The last thing I remember is going to the casino with my friend and then waking up sick.”

“You were sick?” he interjects. “Shit, I didn’t hear you, or I’d have gotten up to help you.”

“I’m fine,” I admit before redirecting back to the situation I’ve found myself in. “This is going to sound really awkward, but did we…” I ask, waggling a finger between us.

“We did not.” He cocks his head to the side, studying me. “Though you did try to molest me a few times in your sleep.”

“I… what?”

“I’m kidding, sweetheart. Nothing happened. Scouts honor.” He holds up his fingers like one of those kids who used to come sell popcorn door to door in our old neighborhood, but there is nothing boyish about this man. I highly doubt he was a Boy Scout.

“So, if we didn’t sleep together, how did you find yourself half naked in my bed?”

“You need to hydrate,” he mutters, dismissing my question as he sidesteps me and walks to the minibar in our room. He grabs a clean glass from the rack, fills it with water, stalks back over, and hands it to me. “Drink it.”

“I asked you a question,” I fire back.

“Drink it, and we’ll talk.” Unsure of what significance this glass of water has or his need for me to hydrate, I down it in a few gulps, the liquid sloshing down my raw throat before landing like lead pellets in my stomach.

“You could have sipped it. Your stomach isn’t going to like that.”

He’s not wrong. My stomach recoils at the intrusion of water, and I run back to the toilet, retching violently.

The water comes up just as fast as it went down, and I grip the porcelain rim until my knuckles turn white.

Thor appears behind me, and I feel his warm hand on my back, rubbing gentle circles as I heave.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “Let it out.”

I want to tell him to leave, that I don't need him seeing me like this, but another wave of nausea hits, and I'm too busy trying not to die to form words. When the spasms finally subside, he hands me a damp washcloth.

“Better?”

I nod weakly, accepting the cloth and wiping my mouth. “Thanks.”

“Come on. Let's get you back to bed.” His hand finds the small of my back, steadying me as I stand on shaky legs.

“I'm fine,” I protest, but my body betrays me by swaying slightly.

“Sure you are, princess.” There's that word again. The way he says it doesn't sound mocking. It sounds almost...protective.

Back in the bedroom, he guides me to sit on the edge of the bed. I'm acutely aware of how close he is, how his presence seems to fill the entire room. He smells like leather and something distinctly masculine that makes my head spin for reasons that have nothing to do with the hangover.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“You were drugged last night at the club.”

“I was what?” The words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. “Drugged?” I gasp, feeling sick to my stomach again at the thought of someone tampering with my body. Panic rises in my chest as I struggle to grasp the reality of the situation. “Who would do that to me?”

“Group of four guys at the bar. I saw one of them dose your last round of drinks. You were about to drink it when I intervened, but you passed out a few minutes later. They must have dosed your previous cocktails, too. They also got your friend.”

I feel a sense of relief that Minny is okay, but the anger toward the men who had drugged us boils inside me.

“Why would they do that?” I demand, my hands balling into fists.

“Just some idiots who think they can take advantage of women,” Thor replies with a shrug. “They probably took off after they got what they wanted from other girls. I’d have handled it myself, but getting you back to your room safely was more important.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I just don’t understand how this could happen.”

“I used to be a bouncer. I’ve seen it more than I care to admit. I saw them eyeing you two at the bar and figured I should keep an eye out. Turns out my gut feeling was right.”

“And you brought us back here?” I ask, trying to piece together the timeline of last night.

“Yes, I made sure you got back to your room safely, but you got sick on yourself when we got back. I cleaned you up the best I could. I didn’t expect to end up in your bed, but I didn’t want to leave you alone, either. Your friend here claimed the couch before I could.”

I watch him, studying his expression, trying to figure out if this is just a ploy to get into my bed for real. But then his eyes meet mine, and there’s something genuine in them—concern, maybe even a flicker of protectiveness.

I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“Thank you for watching over us.” I pause.

“Should we call the police?” The thought of those men getting away with what they did leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

I knew things like this happened at bars, but I never thought it would happen to me at my age.

“It’s not worth it. They’ll likely be long gone now.”

“But they could do it to someone else. We should at least alert security.”

“Already done,” Thor says, gesturing to his phone. “I called them last night after I got you both back here safely. They’re looking into it.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for Thor’s quick thinking. The anger still lingers. “They can’t just get away with it.”

Thor looks at me, his expression softening. “I understand how you feel, but unfortunately, justice doesn’t always work out the way it should. All we can do is take care of ourselves and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make me any less angry.

Last night could have ended very differently had he not stepped in.

I’d listened to a couple of true-crime podcasts the last few months, and when things like this happen, horrible, unspeakable acts by the monsters usually follow.

Minny and I are fortunate Thor was there for us.

“I… well… we both owe you a serious debt of gratitude. I’m sure Minny would say the same if she weren’t sawing logs.”

He smiles at me. “I’m just glad I saw it and stopped you before it went any further.”

A pang of guilt hits me. He gave up his night to babysit two strangers. A true, good Samaritan. “But we robbed you of your evening,” I reply.

“I got to spend the night with two beautiful women. It’s not exactly a hardship.”

“Is there something I can do to say thank you?”

“How about dinner?”

My heart skips a beat at his suggestion. “Dinner?” I repeat, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves.

“Yeah, dinner. Tonight, if you're feeling up to it.” He pulls his shirt over his head, and I'm disappointed to see those muscles disappear beneath the fabric. “I know a place that's not too far from here. Nothing fancy, just good food.”

I hesitate, my mind racing. This gorgeous stranger just saved me from God knows what, and now he's asking me out?

Part of me wants to say yes immediately, but the rational side of my brain is screaming warnings.

I don't know anything about him except his name and that he apparently has a good moral compass.

“I don't really date,” I blurt out, then immediately want to crawl under the covers. Way to sound like a complete loser, Charlotte.

He raises an eyebrow, that amused smile returning. “It's just dinner, princess. Not a marriage proposal.”

“Right. Of course.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, feeling foolish. “It's just...I recently got out of a long relationship. I'm not looking for anything complicated.”

“Who said anything about complicated?” He sits on the edge of the bed, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Look, you've been through hell in the last twelve hours.

You probably need to eat something decent, and I know you won't want to venture out alone after what happened. Consider it a thank you dinner for letting me crash in your bed.”

When he puts it that way, it doesn't sound so terrible.

Yeah, I know we don’t know much about each other than that we’ve slept together, but I’m here alone, and having someone to eat with sounds pretty fucking good.”

I feel a flutter in my stomach at the thought of spending more time with him.

Despite the unusual circumstances of our meeting, there’s something about him that draws me in.

Maybe it’s his rugged good looks or the way he exudes confidence without being arrogant.

Or maybe it’s the fact he saved us. Whatever it is, I find myself nodding eagerly.

“I’d like that.”

“Great,” he says, grinning at me. “You get some rest. I’ll swing by later to get you.”