Page 9

Dani

I woke up to the crushing weight of a pounding headache that made me groan into the couch cushions. My face was smushed into the rough fabric, and I could feel the scratchy pillow wedged over my head like some kind of shade against the world. Every breath sent a fresh wave of pain through my skull, and my mouth tasted like a vineyard had died in it.

“Uh, I am never drinking again,” I mumbled into the couch.

A low, familiar chuckle floated through the room. “That might be kind of hard to do, seeing as you own a wine shop, angel.”

I froze, and my entire body seized.

Smoke.

What the hell? My sluggish brain struggled to piece together the puzzle of the past twelve hours. He left last night. Right? I squeezed my eyes shut tighter and tried to wade through the fog of my memories. Smoke had driven me and Stan home, that much I remembered. He’d brought me inside, and, oh yeah, he’d ordered pizza. I had a hazy memory of eating said pizza, and Smoke was definitely there... but after that? Blank.

“You’re here,” I croaked into the couch.

“What?” His voice was amused, and closer now. “You’ve got a pillow over you and your face buried in the couch.”

Yeah, I knew. That was kind of the point.

With slow, deliberate movements of someone trying not to disturb anything, I rolled over onto my back. The pillow tumbled off my head and hit the floor with a soft thud. I kept my eyes closed and focused on breathing through the nausea that lurched in my stomach with every tiny shift.

“You okay, angel?” Smoke’s voice was back, laced with a surprising amount of concern.

I held up a hand in his general direction in a silent plea for him to stop talking. I couldn’t handle anything right now other than breathing.

In and out.

Nice and slow.

Wine hangovers were the absolute worst. Normally, I avoided them by not mixing my wines, but yesterday? Yesterday, I had thrown all caution to the wind. We drank everything and anything, and now I was paying the price.

I felt Smoke shift beside me, and the air around me shifted subtly. He was crouching next to the couch. I could sense it.

“Coffee?” he asked simply.

I took a second to consider the question and let the thought of coffee sit with me. My stomach didn’t revolt at the idea, so I rasped out, “Yes, please.”

His low chuckle rumbled through me. “Black, or do you fancy it up?”

“Black,” I muttered. My throat felt like sandpaper.

“Purist. I like it.”

I heard him move away, and he was back in less than a minute. The rich aroma of coffee hit me first, and for the first time since waking up, something in my body stirred that wasn’t pure misery.

“You’re going to have to sit up a bit, angel, unless you want me to just pour it into your mouth.”

A soft smile tugged at my lips despite the throbbing in my skull. “That might be messy.”

“Whatever you want.”

I cracked open one eye and squinted at him. Smoke crouched beside me, held out a steaming cup of coffee, and looked entirely too put-together for someone who supposedly spent the night here.

That seemed to be how things went when Smoke was around. He wasn’t the kind of guy you could push around, but he had this way of just rolling with whatever came his way.

Still, pouring coffee directly into my mouth was not exactly the vibe I was going for this morning.

I braced myself and slowly—so slowly—pushed myself upright. Each movement was careful and deliberate to avoid triggering another wave of nausea. My head swam a little, but I breathed through it and blinked until my vision cleared. Smoke was still crouched next to me, and he held the coffee out like an offering.

I took it with a shaky hand and finally took a good look at him. He was wearing the same clothes from last night—dark jeans and a worn T-shirt with his leather cut—but somehow, he looked annoyingly good. His dark hair was a little mussed, but in that intentional way, it looked even better. His scruff was perfectly rugged, and his eyes watched me with something like amusement.

“Why do you look so handsome?” I blurted. My filter was clearly still asleep.

Smoke’s lips curled into a smug grin. “I slept in your uncomfortable-as-fuck recliner all night, angel. You might need to get your eyes checked.”

It may have been uncomfortable for him, but it hadn’t physically affected him at all.

The man was just downright handsome. “I have 20/20 vision. I see just fine.” I took a sip of the coffee and sighed. “What time is it?” I asked.

“Uh, half past nine. Stan called ten minutes ago.”

I looked at Smoke expectantly. I was trying not to freak out by the fact that I needed to work in half an hour, and I wasn’t even sure if I would make it. I assumed Stan was having the same predicament.

“He’s going to be late. He said he can’t stand at the moment.”

I looked at my legs. “I don’t know if I can either.”

Smoke chuckled.

Yeah, see, the man was downright gorgeous when he smiled. I knew I was a bit shaky being hungover, but it was a good thing I was sitting because that smile would have knocked me right off of my feet.

“Why don’t you finish your coffee? Then we can see how your legs are doing,” he suggested.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked.

He tipped his head to the side. “I’m just being me, angel.”

“You tend to all hungover women who can’t hang with the ol’ ladies.” I had learned that is what the girls were called yesterday. It sounded badass and suited all of them.

“You’re the first.”

“I’m the first what?”

He chuckled. “The first woman the ol’ ladies have gotten drunk in the middle of the day.” He leaned back. “Though, from the sound of it from Yarder, you and Stan were popping bottles and cutting cheese like it was a party.”

I groaned and took a sip of my coffee. “I will say I got a little caught up in all of the fun. Normally, we only sample two or three bottles of wine on a good day. I think we went through at least ten bottles yesterday.” Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like they were putting a gun to my head to open the bottles. I did that all of my own free will, but it would not be happening again. At least not when I was working.

“Happens to the best of us.” He stood and headed into the kitchen.

I watched him. Confident in the way he walked. Tall. Strong.

I shook my head. I needed to get going. If Stan was going to be late, that meant I needed to be on time.

I finished my coffee, gingerly got up, and stood. The world swayed a bit, but it was manageable.

“You good?” Smoke leaned against the entryway into the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hands. It was odd seeing my dainty coffee cup in his large, tattooed hand.

I steadied myself and nodded. “I think I’ll be fine as long as I don’t move too fast.” I pasted a smile on my face. “I need to shower and get to the shop.”

“Need help?” he asked.

I leveled him with my gaze. “I think I can manage washing my back.”

Smoke shrugged. “I was meaning do you need help at the shop, but I am willing to help with whatever you need.”

Cue me being hungover and now embarrassed. “Uh, I should be fine.” I shuffled toward the kitchen. Smoke moved in front of me.

“I can take that, angel.” He took the empty cup from me. His fingers brushed against mine, and I tried to ignore the warmth rushing through me.

“Um, thank you. I’m just going to shower and head to work.”

He nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

I looked up at him. “Huh?”

He smiled sexily. “My bike is at your shop.”

Oh, duh. “Right, right. Um, just give me ten minutes and we’ll be out of here.”

He nodded. “Take your time.”

I nodded and fled down the hallway to my bedroom. Once inside, I shut the door and leaned against it. “My god,” I whispered.

Why was that man so handsome? And to top it off, he was nice. So freaking nice to me. And it wasn’t like the wimpy nice, you know? The man was manly, rough, and gruff, but still nice. How?

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.

I didn’t have time to figure out how that was possible.

I needed to get my butt in gear and get to the shop.

I grabbed clean clothes, slipped into the bathroom, and took a quick shower. After getting dressed with wet hair, I headed back out to the kitchen.

Smoke was there.

Still hot.

“I’m ready,” I announced. And I was surprisingly feeling better. A hot, steamy shower worked wonders.

Smoke held out a travel cup of coffee. “Let’s hit it, angel.”