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A mber woke curled around her pillow. She cracked her right eye open and slammed it shut as bright light zapper her eyeball. The shock of light matched the thudding at the base of her skull. “Oh, no.” What had Evie put in the punch at the baby shower?

She rolled onto her back and regretted the move immediately. Shades of white flashed in behind her eyelids. She flung an arm out and smacked the side table until her fingertips bumped into the water bottle she kept handy. She couldn’t quite grab it. Desperate to wash the taste out of her mouth, she sat up. A string of words her long-passed grandmother would charge her fifty-cents each for left her mouth before she gingerly took a sip.

“A lady uses vulgar language only in extreme circumstances, Amber Rose. This is not one of them.”

Her grandmother’s powdery cheeks would lift, and a sparkle in her eyes assured her she was still loved but had to pay up. She didn’t think she had enough cash in her wallet to cover her bill. She took a second and a third sip as the memory of her grandma filtered through her fuzzy mind. Gosh, she missed Grandma Wyatt.

As she looked down at the hand holding the water bottle, her gaze caught a flash of pink. The pink was from her favorite pearl button sweater, which she was still wearing. And her cute white capris. The outfit she wore to Sophie’s baby shower. Last night. Why was she still wearing her clothes?

A moment of panic took hold. She glanced around the room and located her pumps with the tiny florets on the heel lined up together on the floor next to the wall. She always put her shoes away in her closet. Always. She bit her lip to keep from running up her swear word tab and flung herself backward—poor choice.

She grabbed a pillow and put it over her face, blocking out the annoying sun, and started running over last night’s events. Everything after the first couple of hours of the party began to run together. How many cups of punch had she had? She needed to call Evie. And that meant sitting back up again. She sighed and, in slow motion, reached for her phone.

It wasn’t on the side table. She always put it there before she went to bed. A cold dread filled her. First her clothes, then the shoes, now her phone wasn’t where she always left them. The sense that she’d had company last night filled her knotted gut as she swung her legs to the side of the bed. She found her purse hanging from the doorknob in her room. She dug out her phone.

After dialing her friend's number, a picture of them in the rideshare popped into her mind. The driver was an older woman, maybe late sixties. She teased, then lectured the group of women she picked up about hooking up with a guy at O’Malley’s. Plus, to make sure if they didn’t have protection, their partner needs to. Then she said she kept a supply in her glove compartment if anyone wanted one. Giggles filled the van as they piled out and thanked her for the ride.

Her call went to voicemail. “Evie, call me. Now, please. I, uh…can't remember much. I’m not sure though. Could you call me? Please? Bye.” Amber flopped back down again after disconnecting. Damn. She needed to stop doing that. Wait, what if she’d brought someone home? Her gaze traveled over to the door leading into the master bath; it was open. No sounds filtered out. She heard what was probably a leaf blower coming from outside, but her condo was silent.

Okay. Think, Amber. What happened after they got to the pub? She remembered the new hot bartender make a beeline for their table. Then Evie shouted to someone she knew and left. Their drinks arrived. Hers had an umbrella. Probably a Pina Colada. She always switched to those when she’d already had a bit too much to drink because by then, she didn’t’ care about the extra calories. Another quick flash hit; she was being helped into a toasty warm car, or maybe it was a truck? People whispering then nothing. Except for a sexy dream kiss with Royce.

Huh? Did she have that dream more than once?

Okay, so she had more to drink on top of an unknown number of cups of punch with an unknown amount of alcohol. And what the heck happened after that? She wasn’t going to remember anything without caffeine and an aspirin or two.

But she was also pretty sure she hadn’t done anything that required the protection their driver had offered. She couldn’t imagine putting her capri’s back on while under the influence, and after a quick peek, her pink lace panties were still on too.

She made it to the kitchen, her head protesting loudly at every step, but she was able to boil water, add coffee grounds to her beloved French press, and brew a blessed cup of her favorite dark roast without creamer today. She sat at her counter on the barstools she’s scored from an estate sale last month and sipped and tried to play last night’s events over again.

After a second cup and a toasted bagel with butter, she wasn’t going to tempt fate with her usual preference of strawberry cream cheese. The only new thing she remembered was a dream she’d had about Royce Kincaid. But she had those pretty much every night lately. This one was different in that it was pretty tame. They hadn’t ripped each other’s clothes off in desperation. But they did share one hell of a hot kiss before the dream faded. The memory caused her body to perk up a bit. A warm rush settled in her abdomen as the vividness of the dream kiss looped in her brain.

If only her made up kiss could become a reality. But as long as she and Reese were good friends, and there wouldn’t be any reason for them not to be, then Royce was off limits. He’d be forever regulated to her fantasies; because sisters before misters. Or something silly like that. She really did need to either find a boyfriend or pick a new guy to have dream sex with.

Evie never returned her call. Amber spent the rest of her Sunday doing chores and napping in between loads of laundry. Tomorrow was the start of the USBL’s championship series, and she’d been invited by her boss, Caris, and Reese to hang out with the player’s wives and girlfriends.

Thoughts of the too real dream she had about Royce kissing her and why Evie hadn’t returned her call kept her up. She tossed for a bit before she decided to use her lavender pillow spray to calm her racing mind. So, she had too much to drink, lost a chunk of the previous night and someone, hopefully Evie, had put her to bed with her clothes still on. On the verge of falling asleep, she finally convinced herself that she’d done nothing to be embarrassed about.

“What do you mean she doesn’t remember.” Royce had answered the unknown call thinking it might be a work call, but it was Evie.

“I just got a voicemail from her, and she does not remember. So, you need to take this as a blessing and hope someone else doesn’t tell Reese you and Amber locked lips last night. Because I’m not saying a word to Amber or Reese.”

Evie’s tone held just enough desperation that Royce knew any chance he had of finally going after Amber Wyatt was a bad idea. Now he just had to convince his constant hard-on whenever he was around her that there’d be no fun time with the curvy brunette.

“Tomorrow’s the first game of the championship. Where are you sitting?” Evie’s words rushed out.

“In the box with T.S. and Grant for sure. I don’t know who else they invited. Shit. Are you and Amber going to be there too?”

“Not this time. We’re joining all the wives and girlfriends in the section right under the owner’s box. So there’s no worry about you two running into each other.”

Yeah, except he’ll have a bird's eye view of the woman who kissed the hell out of him last night—twice.

“I’m sure there wasn’t anyone else at O’Malley’s that both of you know. So we may be in the clear. The other women with us last night were friends of Sophie’s we just met at the baby shower plus Caris, but she went home to put the kids to bed instead of hanging with the single ladies.”

“Yeah.” What else was there to say. As much as Pineville had grown since he was a kid, it still held onto its small-town roots. People knew friends of friends of friends. Chances were someone had seen him with Amber last night. The only thing left to do was wait and hope that Reese was so wrapped up in the postseason with Connor that anything said in passing wouldn’t rise to her notice.

“Thanks for the call, Evie. I mean it, but it’s out of our hands. As long as Amber doesn’t suddenly remember that has to be good enough. I’ll see you at the game tomorrow.” Royce ended the call and walked around his apartment. His mom had helped him out with the furniture and necessary household stuff when he moved back, but it didn’t feel like home. Not yet. He still thought of his parent's place as home, where his mom still lived almost two decades since dad had passed.

He was living in a glorified hotel room minus room and maid service. Right now it suited his needs. His years on the police force and recently with SWAT had left him little time to establish roots. He wasn’t sure he’d ever find anyone who’d put up with his moods anyway. Mindless hook-ups filled the hole when his sex drive ramped up, at least temporarily. Hell, if he could find a woman who matched his needs in the bedroom and could also cook and was fulfilled with something outside of a relationship, he may just marry her.

His wishful thinking wouldn’t conjure a dream woman. Shaking his head at the turn his thoughts had taken, he showered and changed into his uniform. Another day protecting and serving was ahead of him, and he needed to banish personal wants for now. The problem was his mind kept wandering back to a curvy brunette with dark chocolate eyes whose face he imagined whenever his thoughts turned to his dream woman. And now he knew how her lips felt, tasted.

And damn if no other woman would do now. Not until he worked Amber out of his system. As he drove his truck toward the Pineville Police Station, he realized he only had two options —either leave town or make a play for Amber and somehow keep his sister from finding out.

He wondered if Connor would be willing to take Reese on an extended vacation after the championship series was over?