Page 1 of Reluctantly Ever After (The Oops Baby Club #2)

I wake up to what feels like a herd of elephants stampeding through my skull and the unmistakable taste of bad decisions coating my tongue. The luxury suite's blackout curtains are sort of doing their job, but enough merciless Las Vegas sunshine still manages to break through to burn my brain.

For fuck's sake, how much did I drink last night?

I groan as consciousness crawls back to me sense by sense.

And then I become aware of three things simultaneously: I'm completely naked, I'm not alone, and there's something on my left hand that wasn’t there yesterday.

My heart and stomach both roll as my fingers brush across something smooth and metal.

Is it…?

No.

No.

Yup, it’s a ring. On that finger.

Coincidence? I sure as hell hope so.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping this is just a nightmare, but the warm body blanketing my back is all too real. Whoever he is, he's radiating heat like a bonfire and it’s doing nothing to help the gross hangover sweat coating my skin.

I’m sticky and miserable, and this is the very last thing I need.

But my bed buddy doesn’t know or care. No, he’s too busy breathing deep and even against the back of my neck, peaceful as can be while I’m freaking the fuck out.

And I’m not even going to acknowledge the morning wood poking my ass.

Nope.

There’s not enough coffee in the world for this.

His arm is slung over my waist, heavy and—I freeze as I notice the ink. There are colorful tattoos running down his forearm and spilling onto his fingers, designs that I've seen before. Designs that I would recognize anywhere.

No. No, no, no.

My stomach gives another threatening churn as I slowly turn over, already knowing what I'll find, but praying to every god I don't believe in that I'm wrong.

Yeah, I'm not wrong.

Kasen James is sleeping beside me, and I’ve gotta say, I’m jealous. He has no idea of the cataclysmic fuck up that’s just patiently here, waiting for him to open his eyes.

Waiting to ruin everything.

Meanwhile, I’m painfully awake, staring it right in its offensively handsome face.

What the hell have I done?

Welp, since this day’s already ruined and I’ve been up less than five minutes, I allow myself a second to do something I never do: I check out my enemy.

His dark hair’s a mess, but his body… well, it’s the opposite of a mess. He’s got defined muscles but not overly so and most of his skin is covered in colorful ink that stands out against the bright white hotel sheets that are tangled around his hips.

Low around his hips, so low that I can almost see?—

Nope.

This is Kasen. Owner of Timber Brewing. The biggest pain in my ass and also the man who's been trying to undermine my distribution company since day one.

Also known as the most infuriating human being on the planet.

And apparently, my new husband. Maybe.

I’m still holding out hope the ring’s for something else.

Literally anything else.

Maybe he’s messing with me, and this is all some elaborate joke.

He does love to piss me off.

It doesn’t explain the nakedness or the way our bodies are plastered together, but my brain can’t brain right now, so I’m ignoring the Occam’s razor of it all.

I’ll invent all the complex explanations I want, thanks.

The room spins as I carefully lift his heavy arm from my waist and place it on the mattress. He stirs a little and I hold my breath, but he doesn’t wake up. Once I’m free, I sit up too fast in my desperation to get away and the sheet falls.

And I’m naked.

I mean, I already knew I was, but now it’s confirmed and without Kasen’s body heat, now it’s a cold sweat I’ve got going on.

I yank the sheet up, clutching it to my chest. My head gives a violent throb or seven, but the pain is nothing compared to the panic starting to rise in my throat.

Or it could be vomit. Honestly? I think it’s both.

Either way, for a second, I forget that I’m trying not to wake Kasen up for my walk of shame when I spot an official-looking document with a receipt from the Little White Wedding Chapel sitting on the nightstand.

It’s a little crumpled, but clear as day are three signatures scrawled at the bottom—one of them mine, the other Kasen's— and a third signed by someone named "Elvis Aaron Presleigh" with a smiley face drawn in the 'g'.

Well, I think it’s safe to say panic’s about to win the vomit-panic duel happening in my throat.

As my pulse skyrockets, the throbbing in my head only gets worse, and why am I awake?

I think a solid plan would be to fall back asleep and hope that when I wake up for real this time, this whole thing was just some nightmare my subconscious cooked up thanks to all the tequila I soaked it in last night.

A middle finger from my brain to teach me to never venture away from beer again.

Except no. I can’t go back to sleep. Not with him in my bed. And you know what the worst part of this is? It’s when I sneak another look down at Kasen, and a shiver goes down my spine at the sight of all that delicious?—

Nope.

Nothing about Kasen James is delicious. Not a damn thing. Not his broad chest or the stubble on his jaw or the abs with the real-life V that disappears under the blanket. I glare at him. How does he have abs, anyway? A drool-worthy six-pack a guy who likes beer as much as he does should not have.

Maybe he sold his soul to the devil. It would explain a lot.

You know what? This is fine. All I need is a plan.

I need to get out of this bed, find my clothes, and get out of this room before Kasen wakes up. Once I have a coffee IV and a shower, I can evaluate what needs to come next.

Taking a deep breath, I blow it out and spin, setting my feet on the floor. Okay, so far, so good. But I’ve never been that lucky, and the second I stand up, those light blue eyes crack open.

Every muscle in my body locks up as our eyes connect, and I wait to see what he’s going to say. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows, like he hasn’t quite registered who I am.

And I almost laugh when the light goes on behind them.

Almost.

He jerks upright, reaching to pull the comforter up higher. His eyes dart from my face to my bedhead to the sheet wrapped around me and then back again.

"What the fuck ?" His voice comes out rough and I’m not sure if it’s from sleep or the horror of this situation.

"Good morning to you, too.” Now that he’s awake, I pull the sheet tighter around me.

He lifts his hand to run it down his face, but then he freezes when he sees the matching ring on his finger to the one on mine. Welp, guess there goes any hope this was a prank on his part. "Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke."

I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers so he catches the glint of gold on mine. "Apparently not."

I scoop up the papers on the nightstand and hand them over. Kasen snatches them, eyes scanning the documents frantically. "How drunk were we?"

"Drunk enough to think this was a good idea," I say, gesturing between us. Th is encapsulates so very many things. The nakedness, the wedding. Whatever happened between last night and right now that I have zero memory of.

I spot my black dress hanging from a lampshade and hurry over to grab it, shimmying into it over the sheet and then letting the sheet drop.

Now where the hell are my underwear?

Kasen runs a hand through his messy hair and I ignore the way it makes his biceps flex. "Did we...?" He gestures between us and I laugh.

“I think it’s pretty safe to say we did.” If the ache between my thighs and the fingerprint shaped bruises I noticed on my hips are anything to go by, but I don’t think he needs the details.

Kasen's jaw clenches, and he looks away. "Jesus Christ."

I find my underwear on the floor by the bathroom, so I grab them and go inside for a little privacy.

Flicking on the light, I get the full effect of my bad decisions staring me right in the face when I look in the mirror.

My makeup’s an absolute travesty, my hair’s a tangled, wild mess and there’s absolutely no way I’m going to be able to cover the Texas-sized hickey on my neck.

I’m pretty much the dictionary definition of walk of shame.

Who the hell even is the girl in the mirror because no way is she me. I don’t do stuff like this. And I definitely do not sleep with the enemy.

Again, we’re ignoring the whole married thing. Coffee IV first, remember?

While I pee and ohmygod sweet relief, I take a second to look around the fancy bathroom. It’s got one of those giant jacuzzi tubs that could fit the entire list of characters from a reverse harem in it. And at some point last night, it looks like Kasen and I had some fun in there.

There’s a half-empty bottle of top shelf tequila tipped over and spilling out onto the floor, which still has cold puddles of water all over the place.

Say what you want, but at least we didn’t drink the cheap shit.

I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the evidence of what I've done, but all it does is smear around the mess of my makeup and now the front of my hair’s dripping and wet.

Oh, and the light catches the ring on my finger and why the hell am I still wearing it?

I go to take it off, but this dress doesn’t have pockets and besides, if I take it off, then I have to deal with what to do with it and…

I can’t.

I just… can’t.

I do not have the brainpower with this hangover to make decisions.

Not small decisions and not I probably-definitely married my rival in Vegas and then consummated the hell out of the wedding decisions.

Just fuck all the decisions.

When I get my shit together as much as I’m going to, I step back into the room. Kasen’s pulled on his jeans, but he’s still shirtless. And I’m pretty sure he’s going commando, too.

He’s upsettingly hot.

Unfortunately hot.

And he’s pacing the room, gripping the ends of his messy hair like he’s having some sort of meltdown. I might hate the guy, but I can’t blame him. I’m freaking out, too.