She popped up to a sitting position, hiding her bare breasts with the puffy comforter that covered her. Her head spun and a wave of nausea passed through her. She sat for a minute, letting her stomach settle and seeking her bearings.
He had kissed her. And she had kissed him. They had slow-danced to George Strait on the patio. She strained her brain trying to remember how she got into this bed.
Slowly, she perused her surroundings. She recognized Nick’s bedroom. Her clothing was folded and neatly stacked on the seat of the wooden rocking chair across the room from the bed. Nick’s soiled jacket no longer hung there. Further evidence that he had been in this room while she was naked.
A glass of milk, three chocolate chip cookies on a saucer and a bottle of Advil sat on the small bedside table, along with a note printed boldly in all caps: DON’T TAKE THESE PILLS ON AN EMPTY STOMACH. EAT THE COOKIES FIRST.
“He is sooo bossy,” she mumbled.
She munched on the cookies and washed down two of the Advil tablets with half the glass of milk. How long had he been in this room while she was naked? How had he moved around the room without waking her? How had he undressed her without waking her?
Hunkered behind the Advil bottle was a digital clock showing the time to be 8:30 a.m. and the day to be Sunday. Oh, hell. She had animals at home waiting to be fed. She had a store that needed to be opened. Unfortunately, she had declined Betty Ann’s offer to open it today.
She eased out of bed and gathered her clothing. An odor of stale alcohol assaulted her nose.
She fastened on her bra, stepped into her panties, then her jeans and fastened them, then picked up her sweater, the source of the sour alcohol smell. She spread it to look at it. A purple stain the size of a basketball showed on the front. She pressed it to her nose and sniffed. Her stomached lurched.
Skunk spray, llama spit and now stale alcohol. She shuddered.
Across the room was the door to the bathroom. She tiptoed toward it. Once inside, she vaguely remembered being in it last night and washing the front of her sweater with hand soap.
Peeking into the shower, she saw that it was still humid from use and still felt warm. He had showered and she hadn’t even known it? She berated herself again.
A nice steamy shower was sooo tempting, but she couldn’t take the time.
Her hair looked as if she had been in a windstorm. She used Nick’s hairbrush, then opened drawers looking for toothpaste. She helped herself and rubbed her teeth and tongue with her finger.
She crossed the room and eased the bedroom door open. The sound of a TV broadcasting led her to the kitchen where Nick sat at the table reading the newspaper. An ugly mix of embarrassment, confusion, anxiety and anger skirmished within her.
He looked up and smiled his killer smile. “Heey,” he said softly. “How you feeling?” He put down the paper and got to his feet. “Come have some breakfast.”
She cautiously stepped into the kitchen, too aware that he had seen her naked.
He stood there looking at her, his hands propped on his slim hips. “I fried up some bacon.” He gestured toward the cookstove where several slices of cooked bacon lay on a plate. “I’ll scramble some eggs.”
“I need to get home. I ate those cookies, all three of them”
“You need to eat something with protein.” He hurried to open a bread loaf lying on the counter and popped two slices into a toaster. “Take a seat at the table and I’ll get it together. Eggs will just take a minute.”
With no strength or will to argue, she sank to a chair at the table and set the bottle of Advil beside a salt shaker. She barely remembered eating at this table last night. “Thanks for the Advil. It was thoughtful of you. Although I probably deserve it if you hit me with a hammer. Have you eaten?”
“Earlier.”
He dropped a chunk of butter into a cast-iron skillet. It sizzled at once, filling the air with the soothing aroma of melting butter. She watched as he broke an egg into a bowl, than picked up another. “One’s enough. I don’t —”
But he had already broken the second one. He whipped them madly with a fork, then deftly poured them into the sizzling butter and seasoned them with salt and pepper.
In no time, the eggs were done and the toast had popped up. He put together a plate of the eggs, several slices of bacon and the toast and brought it to her at the table. He even added a jar of strawberry jam. “There you go. Eat up. Nothing like greasy food for a hangover.”
He sat down opposite her and picked up the newspaper again.
The thought that he had seen her naked continued to batter her. If he had undressed her, he had touched her bare skin in places. Gluing her eyes on her plate, she swallowed a bite of the soft scrambled eggs. “I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
Unsmiling, she looked up at him. “What happened last night?”
He sat back, giving her a piercing look. An odd emotion showed in his eyes. “What do you think happened?”
The soft scrambled eggs began to feel like lead in her stomach. She drew a shuddery breath. “Did you undress me?”
“Had to. You poured a glass of wine down your front, then soaked yourself with soapy water.”
She closed her eyes, arched her brow and shook her head. “You took off my bra?”
“It was dripping wet.” His eyes held
