Page 8 of Devil in the Details

Olive

T he first thing I noticed was the fact that my head pounded. Was there a sledgehammer behind my eyes? I didn’t want to open them, because I knew it would just make the pain even worse.

The second thing I realized was the feeling of warmth on my face.

You have to open your eyes at some point. Can’t stay in bed all day.

I couldn’t remember what happened or how I got back in my bed, but then again, I did remember being loose with those beers and shakes.

I groaned and rolled onto my back, breathed out slowly, and took note there was a spicy masculine scent that enveloped me.

My eyes were still closed as I spread my arms and legs out, doing a snow angel on the mattress.

The sheets were chilled but warmed considerably as the seconds moved by.

The sheets felt soft, softer than I remembered having on my bed, but I was so hungover I didn’t think too much about it.

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking a few times, as the brightness was like knives inside my head.

Everything was blurry for a moment, and I blinked a few times again.

My vision started to clear as I stared at the ceiling.

I tilted my head to the side as I realized the ceiling was white…

too white from what I remembered. There weren’t any water stains either, which my bedroom definitely had.

I slowly sat up, mindful of sudden movements, because my head was bitching me out. I lifted my hand and covered my eyes, closing them as I let the pain subside marginally.

And then as I sat there, it all came rushing back to me—well, in bits and pieces, like a fragmented movie that was trying to right itself but just couldn’t make the connection.

Pope.

All those orange-fucking-freezes.

I groaned again as the memory of those drinks had my head pounding and my stomach churning.

I inhaled, and the scent of what I now realized was all Pope filled my head, somewhat easing that ache marginally.

Slightly spicy.

A hint of wildness.

All male.

I dropped my hand to the mattress and looked around the room. Everything was so masculine, with dark undertones against white walls and white linens.

The scent of coffee finally pierced my brain, and I looked toward the partially open bedroom door. Then the sound of pans banging had my heart doing a little hiccup behind my ribs. My throat was suddenly tight, my mouth dry. He was down there. Waiting for me. And here I was, scared as hell.

I gripped the sheets and pulled them up to my chest. Did we have sex?

I pulled the sheet out and looked down. I had my bra and panties on, and a glance to my left showed the rest of my clothes folded neatly on the dresser.

I didn’t feel like I’d gotten it on last night, but I’d been so drunk, who the hell knew for sure?

And would I have put my panties back on afterward?

I closed my eyes as mortification slammed into me. A one-night stand was not something I did… like ever.

More pieces from last night filtered into my mind.

God, I should have been more responsible in my drinking.

But I’d been feeling nice and buzzed, my worries and the fact that none of my interviews had panned out slowly fading away as pleasure filled me.

I’d been enjoying Pope’s company. Not only was he attractive, he was also funny, and I felt like he was genuine.

Those were qualities in a person I especially coveted.

But no doubt this little escapade had ruined any chances for a second date.

I was off the bed and grabbing my clothes from the dresser a second later. My stomach and head protested from my sudden movements, but fuck it, this was a weird situation I needed to get out of.

When I heard footsteps approaching, I turned toward the door quickly, feeling my eyes widen and my heart race.

And then I heard him knock on the bedroom door, and I stopped getting dressed, my body bent over as I was about to pull my dress up.

My heart was thundering and, as I was still bent at the waist, the blood rushing to my head, the pressure became even worse.

I hauled ass in pulling the dress up, but before I could reach to the side and zip it up, the door was being pushed open.

I straightened and nearly lost my balance but reached out and gripped the edge of the dresser for support.

Pope walked in wearing a snug white T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting sweats.

The white drawstring swung slightly as he stepped into the room.

He held two coffee cups, but I was focused on the way his dark hair was messy… sexy.

And his body. I couldn’t breathe, because even first thing in the morning, he looked good enough to eat. With hard muscles and definition that couldn’t be hidden beneath his clothes.

I looked to the side at the mirror attached to the dresser. The woman staring back at me looked like she should be living in the woods waiting for Hansel and Gretel to show up. I was just missing the pointy hat and the wart on my nose.

A witch, yeah, that’s totally the appearance I was going for right about now when Pope looked like… well, when he looked sexy as sin.

“Morning,” he said in that deep, slightly scratchy voice that I remembered all too well from dinner and how it made me feel. God, even thinking about it now, I felt tingles race up my spine.

I cleared my throat and looked at the ground. “Hey.” That lone word was nothing but a mumble from me, and I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me at all.

“Coffee?”

I chanced a look at him, his arm still held out, the coffee calling to me.

I took a few steps forward but kept my gaze down on the ground as I took the cup from him, our fingers brushing together and making this little gasp leave me.

I could feel him staring at me and looked at him from the fall of my rat’s nest hair.

God, he looked incredible, whereas I looked like I’d crawled out from under a rock.

For a second, we just stood there, neither one of us speaking, the awkwardness strong. The chilled air moved along the strip of skin exposed where the zipper still wasn’t pulled up.

“Uh,” I said uncomfortably. “Did we…?” I glanced at the bed, feeling my face burn like it was on fire. How bad was it that I couldn’t even remember having sex with him?

He cleared his throat, and I knew he was about to speak. I held up my hand and shook my head.

“You know what?” I looked at him, straightening, holding my head high.

“We won’t even get into that. It is what it is.

” I brought the cup to my mouth and took a long drink, watching him over the rim, trying to act stronger than I actually was.

The fact was, I was so damn embarrassed by this entire situation.

When I guzzled down the coffee, I started to feel a little better.

“Listen,” I said and handed him back the cup, giving him a grateful smile, “I just want you to know, even though it probably doesn’t even matter, I don’t ever just go home with random men.

” I swallowed roughly. “Like, I’ve never done that.

This is so uncharacteristic for me, and I’m mortified that you had to see me like that. ” I rubbed my temple.

“You know…” He started to speak, but right now, I couldn’t even handle whatever he was going to say. I couldn’t handle any pity he threw my way.

“I know that’s not an excuse,” I said, cutting him off from saying anything.

“And I’m sure anyone in my position would have said the same thing.

” I stared into his dark eyes, willing myself not to get lost in them.

“But in my case, it’s the truth. I have never done a one-night stand.

” The slow smirk he gave me shouldn’t have had every erogenous zone in my body lighting up.

“That’s good to know, because I don’t do one-night stands either.”

I breathed out slowly. God, why did his voice have to be so damn sexy?

“So, thank you for everything. I’m sorry you had to see me drown my sorrows in booze, but I really should go.” I started looking around for my shoes, cursing internally when I couldn’t find them.

“They’re by the front door. You kicked them off as soon as you stepped into my apartment.”

Of course I did.

I gave him a tight-lipped smile and he lifted a dark brow, the corner of his mouth kicking up even more.

My face was on fire.

“I made us some breakfast, if you’re hungry.”

I shook my head right away. “Um, thanks, but I actually have to go,” I reiterated and looked at the clock on the bedside table, clenching my teeth at the time. It was early as hell.

I had that interview today, was hungover as all get-out, but I needed to get my shit together and ace this interview if I had any hope of pulling myself out of this shit storm I was currently in.

He didn’t say anything for long moments, and when I looked back at him, his face was stoic. “You sure? It’s pancakes and bacon, even scrambled some eggs.” He held up the coffee cups. “Got more of this, if you’re interested.”

The very thought of eating turned my stomach. “You normally cook breakfast this early?”

He shrugged and propped his hip again the dresser. “No, but since I had company, I figured why the hell not?”

Oh. God.

“I—I actually have an appointment that I can’t miss and should probably get home and get my shit together.” I felt my face heat once more as he stared at me.

“Okay,” he said, his voice and expression even. He stepped to the side even more, and I started making my way past him. “Just to let you know, Michael kept texting then calling last night. You were out cold, so I answered and assured him you were fine but sleeping off the booze.”

The slow smile he gave me was no doubt in direct correlation to how hot my damn face felt. I was going to hear about this from Michael, probably for the rest of my life, and I couldn’t even tell him if the sex had been good or not, because I didn’t even fucking remember.

And then my face felt even hotter, was probably as red as a tomato.

I glanced over at him and saw that he still watched me knowingly. And as I looked him up and down, really got my fill of how good he looked, I knew, without remembering, that yeah, the sex had most definitely been good.

God, he smelled good. I tried to keep my focus on the floor as I made my way down the hallway, but I had no clue how his apartment was set up, didn’t remember even coming here last night—well, not clearly anyway—so I glanced up just as I entered the living room and kitchen area.

I remembered Pope said he was a financial advisor or something along those lines, and it was clear he got paid very well, judging by his place.

Where his room had been dark woods and pristine white décor, the kitchen and living room was modern with stainless steel appliances, white marble counters, and black-as-night cupboards.

His living room had the same theme, with black leather furniture, crisp white walls, and silver accents thrown in.

His place made my apartment look like a hovel.

And then there was the view. That glorious, “rich person” view that instantly made me envious. Well, even more than I already was.

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window that stretched across one full wall, the cityscape before me incredible.

I’d never seen it this high up. It was beautiful.

It wasn’t like the bottom of the barrel I was used to seeing, with the congestion of the city, the shoulder-to-shoulder, packed-like-sardines population. Not to mention the pollution.

No, this view made it almost seem like some metropolis, a utopia.

And I wasn’t even counting the fact that the windows were pristine… not a smudge on them. I actually felt like I could walk right through them.

“Pretty incredible view, right?”

I was startled by Pope’s voice and spun around to face him. I’d been so engrossed in the view that I’d been distracted from the task at hand, which was getting the hell out of here.

“I meant it when I said you’re more than welcome to stay for breakfast.”

I glanced at the table and saw he already had some plates set out. A part of me wanted to stay, because although I didn’t know much about Pope, and we’d only gone out once—last night—I felt this connection with him. But that didn’t mean I could do this. Not right now at least.

“It looks and smells incredible, but I really should get going.” I ran my hands down my thighs, realizing my zipper was still down.

When he turned his back to me to head into the kitchen to put the cups in the sink, I quickly zipped myself up, spotted my shoes by the door, and made my way toward them.

My purse sat on a small table to my side, and once I was ready, I glanced up and saw him watching me from the kitchen.

He tipped his mug up toward me and smiled. “Until next time.”

I cleared my throat and nodded. Yeah, until next time , I supposed.

I opened the front door and left, closing it softly behind me and leaning against it for a second. God, what was wrong with me that all I wanted to do was go back inside there and get to know him better?

I shook my head, pushed away from the door, and started making my way down the ornately decorated hallway. God, what was this, an apartment building or a hotel?

One of the doors down his hallway opened and an older woman wearing a plush red robe and her hair pinned up in rollers peeked her head out the door and was about to bend down to pick up her paper, when she saw me.

My face felt like it was on fire and I ducked my head and let the fall of my hair hide my face from her view.

I stopped in front of the elevator and pushed the down button over and over again, cursing the damn machine for taking its sweet-ass time.

And once the double doors opened and I stepped inside, I leaned against the wall and breathed out.

Well, that’s one way to do the walk of shame.