Page 18 of Hotshot

“Sort of,” I replied, pushing him onto the mattress. “Just…get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Denny rolled to his side, drew his knees to his chest, and shivered. “Hope so.”

I pulled the duvet over his shoulders. “Me too, big guy. Me too.”

3

DENNY

The tile was cold and unforgiving on my knees, the light was blinding, and my stomach was extremely unhappy with me.

I wiped sweat from my brow and gingerly crouched on my heels, afraid to move and start the cycle again. Every time I thought the worst was over, I ended up racing to the toilet to puke my guts out. I did feel better than I had earlier, though. At least that was something.

Was this really tequila’s fault? Had I eaten last night? Had I eaten something bad? I couldn’t remember.

My mind was fuzzy as fuck. I couldn’t think while my stomach was churning, but I was beginning to register that nothing was familiar. This wasn’t my bathroom or Grams’s or MK’s or Niall’s or— Shit.Where am I?

I licked my dry lips, clutching the counter as I slowly…oh, so slowly…stood, squinting at my reflection.

Geez, I looked like hell’s newest arrival. My face was ghostly pale, and my hair could have doubled as a bird’s nest. I washed my hands and splashed water on my cheeks, begging my brain to cooperate so I could think.

I’d met my friends at the bar. It had been fun and nice to see everyone. MK had seemed good and?—

Knock knock

“You okay in there?”

I froze.

Oh. Fuck.

“Uh, yeah. All good. Thanks,” I rasped.

“Can I come in?”

“Just a sec.” I dried my hands on the towel, yanking it off the bar and wrapping it around my waist.

I never slept naked, and that was just one of the mysteries piling up. I wildly scanned the bathroom for clues, zeroing in on the unzipped leather toiletry bag at the far end of the counter. Not mine, but it belonged to a man for sure. I snooped for a prescription bottle or something with a name, sighing at the lack of helpful evidence. There was nothing here but toothpaste, deodorant, and fancy-looking cologne that smelled like?—

The cowboy.

Oh, wow. If something sexy had happened between us and I couldn’t fucking remember, I was going to be seriously pissed at the universe. I examined my reflection for hickeys or bite marks or anything conclusive.

Had we fucked? No, there was no way I’d have forgotten that. And my ass didn’t hurt. Maybe I’d fucked him and maybe I’d been a terrible lay. Or maybe?—

“Denny?”

“Hang on.”

I stole a smidge of toothpaste and finger-brushed my teeth, rinsing my mouth and gargling till I felt as if I could communicate without singeing anyone’s eyebrows off.

I didn’t feel even halfway human, but I couldn’t put off the reckoning any longer.

So I opened the door, stepped out, and…there he was, sleep-rumpled with messy hair, a pillow crease on his stubbled cheek, sleepy eyes, and a hesitant smile.

He stepped around me to use the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving me to process puzzle pieces and make sense of my current situation.

His name was…Hank.