I’ve known Chance for two years, and I’ve never seen him at a loss for words. He’s usually so articulate. He’s not a babbler, but he always knows the right thing to say for any occasion. But apparently, this morning threw him as much as it threw me, because he just stood there, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.
I know we didn’t have sex. Well, no actually, I don’t know that. But I mean I don’t think we did. Why would we? Neither of us have ever been anything but professional before. There’s been no flirting, no suggestive looks. We’ve barely even spoken to each other except for work related things. Hell, until last night, I hadn’t even seen him in casual clothes and he’d never seen me with my hair down.
Well, that’s certainly all changed.
I try again to remember last night. I remember checking in to the hotel and Chance giving me the night off. So I must have left my room and went for a drink somewhere. That much is clear by the pounding in my head. So maybe I ran into Chance and the others somewhere. I mean I wouldn’t have just come to his room drunk and uninvited would I?
Oh my God, would I? Did I?
Panic fills me at the thought of a drunken me knocking on Chance’s room door and slurring at him. I shake my head, pushing the image away. Even if, for whatever reason, I had done that, he hadn’t exactly sent me packing had he?
“I’m never drinking again,” I whisper.
I get to my feet and glance into the mirror. I gasp at the state of myself. My hair is a wavy mess and I have mascara stains underneath my eyes. My skin is a dead looking grey color. Thanks hangover.
I can’t change whatever happened last night, but I can control what happens next, at least to an extent. I can freshen up a bit and not go out there looking like I’ve rolled in straight out of the trash.
I turn the cold tap on, clutching the sheet with one hand. I wet the other hand and run it over my hair, taming the worst of the wavy bits. Oh, who am I kidding? They’re not wavy bits. They’re frizzy bits. I rub at the mascara underneath my eyes. I manage to get the most of it off.
I tuck the sheet in on itself, so both of my hands are free as I cup water into my hands and splash it onto my face. I’m starting to feel a little more human now. I reach out to turn the tap off and a flash of gold catches my eye.
My eyes widen and panic fills my whole body.
“No, no, no,” I whisper.
I close my eyes shut. I’m imagining it. I must be. Yes, I’m still a little drunk and my mind is playing tricks on me. When I open my eyes again, it’ll be gone and I’ll be able to laugh at my huge overreaction to something I imagined. It was just a trick of the light. Nothing more.
I count to three in my head and I open my eyes.
It’s still there and before I can stop myself, I let out a scream. I cut the scream off and hold my breath, praying Chance didn’t hear me.
“Sierra? Are you alright in there?” Chances shouts, tapping on the door.
Okay, he heard me. Of course he heard me. He’s not deaf or fucking dead. Half of the hotel probably heard me.
I move towards the door. I might as well just tell him now. I’m going to have to tell him at some point. Maybe he remembers a little more than I do and he knows where it came from.
“Sierra?” Chance calls again.
I pull the bathroom door open.
“Are you okay? I heard you scream. What happened?”
I try to find the words to tell him, but they just don’t come. I stand while staring mutely at him for a moment.
He stares back at me with a look of concern.
Great. Now, he thinks I’ve lost my mind.
I give up trying to find the words to explain why I screamed, and instead, I hold up my left hand, trying not to look at the offending gold band on my wedding finger.
Chance stares at my hand, his concern giving way to a frown of confusion. “I don’t see anything Sierra. Did you hurt your hand or something?”
I wish that was all it was. I wish I’d slipped over on the floor and broke my wrist or something. Six weeks in a cast and it’s all good. Just another dumb Vegas accident. But the dumb Vegas accident I seem to have had is so much worse than that. “The wedding ring,” I manage to say. “Mr. Hunter, I’m not married, or at least I wasn’t. And I wasn’t wearing this ring yesterday.”
His face pales as the realization of what I’m saying dawns on him. In slow motion, he lifts his left hand and we both look at it at the same moment.
“Oh fuck,” we both say together when we see the matching gold band on his finger.
Chapter Six
Chance
I am backing away from Sierra as the realization of what happened hits me. I feel the bed hit the back of my legs as I sit down hard and rub my hands over my face. I look up at Sierra.
She is still standing in the bathroom doorway staring at me.
I realize the way I’ve backed away from her wasn’t exactly tactful and I shake my head a little trying to clear it. “I’m sorry Sierra,” I say. “I’m just trying to make sense of all of this and well, it’s not really happening.”
She gives a soft laugh. “Yeah. Tell me about it. Mr. Hunter I don’t mean to be rude, but do you think you could hand me my
