“I know.”
The way he said it caught my attention and I snapped my eyes to his. “Shit. What exactly did I tell you last night?” Despite my foggy recollection, I knew nothing physical had happened. I woke up fully clothed, covered up on the couch. Something flashed in my mind and I saw myself curled up on the couch, my head resting on his leg. I’d looked up to find him sound asleep, socked feet propped on the coffee table and head tipped back against the couch at an awkward angle. “Oh, God. You had to sleep sitting up. Why didn’t you make me move?”
“You were sleeping so peacefully, there was no way I was disturbing you. Besides, I’ve slept in far less comfortable places. It was no big deal.” He smiled at me then and nodded toward the door. “We’ll talk about all this in a few minutes. I’m going to grab your coffee and something for you to change into, okay? Tell me where to look.”
“I can do it.” I went to slide off the counter and Spencer locked his hands behind my knees, sliding me back.
“Not yet, you just sit right there for a few more minutes and get your bearings. I’ll do this. It’s not like I’ve never seen an underwear drawer before.”
Underwear? Um, hell no. There was no way he was going through
that
drawer. Nuh uh. “Actually, there’s a robe hanging on the inside of my closet door. If you could just get that, I can handle the rest later.” I held his eye with silent pleading until he nodded his agreement.
He stepped back, removing his hands from behind my knees and leveling his stare at me. “You stay put. If I come back and you’re wobbling like a deer in the middle of the room, you and I are going to have a problem.” With that he walked out, his footsteps echoing down the hall toward my bedroom.
Since when was he so damned bossy?
And since when did that make me hot?
SPENCER HELD ME
captive on the bathroom counter for another half an hour before helping me down. His dark gaze didn’t miss a thing as I stood there assuring him that I was fine to stand on my own. He’d already brought me coffee, a robe, a large glass of water, and several ibuprofen for my throbbing head, insisting that I wait at least twenty minutes for the medicine to kick in before he would even consider letting me move. It was endearing and mildly insulting.
I was fine.
Sure, my head felt like someone had used it as a piñata but I was an adult and perfectly capable of taking care of myself.
When my feet were finally on the floor, I stood straight and met his eye, willing myself not to wobble.
Yep. I was just fine.
Until I shifted my weight from foot to foot and one of my ass muscles protested. Vehemently. I winced before I could stop myself and Spencer clearly noticed.
“What? Are you dizzy? Seeing spots? What hurts?”
I met his eye stoically. “My ass.”
That shut him up. He closed his mouth so fast I heard his teeth click together.
I couldn’t resist, I had to mess with him. I dramatically rubbed the right cheek and said, “I’m pretty sure I bruised it when I fell but I have no idea how to tell if I fractured anything. Will you check?”
His eyes snapped to my face, brows so high they nearly touched his hairline. Underneath the surprise, I could have sworn I saw a flash of desire.
Probably wishful thinking. Wishful and dangerous.
“You want me to check to see if you broke your ass?” His eyes were filled with equal parts concern and suspicion. “How would I possibly be able to tell that?”
Without missing a beat I announced, “There’d probably be a big crack in it or something.”
He blew out a big breath, looking relieved. I tried not to be offended by that. “Very funny, chuckles. Glad you’re enjoying yourself, but it’s still possible that you could have a concussion.” He raised a finger in stern warning, a smile fighting to lift the corners of his mouth. “I’ll leave so you can get your robe on and stuff but I’ll be right outside. Okay?”
“Actually, can you get my phone from the living room? I need to call Ali before she sends the cavalry.”
He smirked as he backed away. “She already did, sweetheart.”
I reached for my robe and shook my head. Guess he had a point.
HE LEFT MY
phone with me and headed off to the kitchen to reheat his coffee while I got my ass chewed by my best friend.
The second the call connected she said, “Where the hell have you been? Can you not check a voicemail? Shit, T. I was worried to death.”
“Yeah, I figured that when tall, dark, and bossy showed up at my door. Sorry I didn’t call back. My phone fell into the sanitizing sink at work and I had to dry it out. Everything’s good.”
She huffed loudly. “Bullshit. Why were you drunk when Spencer got there? You don’t drink alone and I’ve only seen you truly drunk a handful of times our whole lives, so don’t try to tell me nothing is wrong. We don’t lie to each other, remember? Ever.” Her voice had taken on a pained tone, as if I’d hurt her feelings by downplaying the truth.
“Okay, okay. The travel journalist that’s doing the article on Canary turned out to be Derek.” The words dropped between us like lead and I put a hand on the counter to brace myself, feeling suddenly dizzy.
“Derek? You mean Derek Wheeler? Derek, the sorry piece of shit that abandoned you and called you a fucking liar, Derek?” Her voice rose an octave with each question until she was so shrill I had to move the phone away from my ear. There was more screeching followed by a pause and the soft calling of my name.
I put the phone back to my ear and muttered, “Fighting a real bitch of a headache this morning, babe. Ease up on the volume for me, okay?”
“Sorry. I was just shocked. And more than a little pissed off. Isn’t that a conflict of interest or something? Can you call the editor and request someone else?”
“And sound like a petty, jilted ex? No way. I’d probably end up losing the feature. I have to plaster on a fake smile and push through. I just needed a few days to get my head together.”
I could practically hear the scowl on her face. “What did he say when he showed up?”
I studied myself in the mirror, finger combing my tangled hair as a distraction. “He said I was as beautiful as ever, talked about how he’d kept tabs on my success, dropped a stack of old pictures on me like an atom bomb, and hugged me like I was an old friend he couldn’t wait to catch up with.”
“He said he kept tabs? Gee, creepy much?” She huffed out a breath. “And afterward?”
I drew in a deep breath, picking at a tangle with my fingers. “I walked straight out the door and haven’t been back. Gina is holding down the fort, and I was holding down lots of Scotch.”
“The reserves from Jared?”
“Yep. Remind me to thank him again. That stuff tastes like hell but it sure does work. I almost used it to drench the pictures and light them on fire but thought it was too expensive to waste. I tore them into tiny pieces instead. Between the empty bottles and confetti bits everywhere, it looks like there was a party.” I laughed miserably, rubbing the knot on my head.
“Has Spencer gone home already?”
Hmm... total honesty, right? “No. He’s probably going to stick around for a while today. He’s convinced I might have a concussion.”
The screechy voice was back, sending flashes of pain through my head. “Concussion! Why the hell would he think that?”
I used a bored tone, hoping she wouldn’t overreact. “I kind of slipped in the shower and hit my head. I’m fine. It’s just a bump.”
“You’re sure you’re okay? If you’re okay then why is Spencer so worried? Wait. Was he in there with you? What exactly made you slip?” Why did she sound so excited at the prospect?
“Um, no. I was alone in the shower and plan to continue to shower alone. He called out from the hallway and startled me, so I slipped. It’s no big deal and don’t you dare tell him what caused me to fall.” He would feel bad for scaring me and it wasn’t his fault.
“Fine. I won’t say anything to him about it but you better stick close to him for the next few hours in case you really do have a concussion. Okay?”
“Fine. I wish everyone would stop worrying about me. I’m the one who does the mothering around here, not you, and certainly not Spencer.”
In a sly voice Ali asked, “So, he’s bossy, huh? I bet that’s kind of hot.”
Oh, for God’s sake. “New topic, please. How’s the project coming? Any new pics to send?”
“I sent about a dozen while you were in radio silence. Check your messages, turd.” She was teasing rather than chiding. That’s just the way we were. In all our years of friendship, we’d never fought for longer than a few minutes. It just didn’t happen. We always joked our way through it and moved on. That was what made our friendship the best. Best fucking bitches, which was our mantra.
“Okay, I’ll check. How’s the wedding planning going? Your mother still insisting on the big reception?”
The responding groan more than answered my question. “Oh yeah. It’s not like I should get what I want on my wedding day, everyone knows it’s all about the mother of the bride.”
“At least she’s not putting up too much fuss about the actual ceremony being in Denson.” Ali and Clay were getting married beneath the massive willow tree that overlooked the lake on his property. It was their special place and, according to Ali’s mom, too far in the sticks to expect important guests to trek.
I called that an added bonus.
“Oh, no. She’s treating the willow ceremony as something to rush through to get to the overpriced party she’s throwing. And she’s pushing us to have a ‘real’ ceremony, too. It’s driving Clay crazy but he does get some satisfaction knowing she’s spending gobs of Holden’s money in the meantime.” Ali’s stepfather had once set his sights on Clay and Spencer’s company but they outmaneuvered him. It must be killing him to drop six figures on Clay’s wedding reception.
The thought made me laugh. “Good for Clay. I’d go for broke as long as I was spending stepdaddy dearest’s money.”
“Actually, one of the reasons I was so desperate to get in touch with you was that I need your help with some of the planning.” She said it tentatively, like there was more to come and I wasn’t going to like it.
I checked the knot that held my robe closed and opened the bathroom door, tiring of the annoying echo. “Okay, what do you need me to do?”
I made my way down the hall and Spencer stepped out of the kitchen, my re-warmed coffee held out in offering. I accepted it with a stiff nod—not wanting to move my head too much for fear of awakening Zeus and his lightning bolts—before going to sit at the counter. I watched as Spencer moved around the living room, collecting our glasses from the night before and folding the blanket he’d used to cover me when I dozed off.
I was poised to tell him to leave that to me when Ali hesitantly spoke in my ear. “Since I can’t get away and the deadline to finalize some of the orders is approaching, I need you to help pick out the flowers and centerpieces. Maybe even the cake.”
“What? I can’t do that. You’re the bride, that’s your choice to make.”
“You know me better than anyone else on Earth. I trust you to make the right decisions. Besides, if you don’t do it, I’ll be stuck with whatever my mother picks and you can imagine what that would entail. I’d end up with bouquets the size of Macy’s floats and a cake that looks like a disco ball. I wouldn’t put it past her to use real diamonds on the damn thing just to show off.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I know you hate spending time with her but she doesn’t know me well enough to make it
my
day even if she wanted to, which she clearly doesn’t. I need your help with this, Talia. Please. I need my maid of honor.”
Dammit. I looked up at Spencer as an idea popped into my pounding head. “What about the Best Man? Should he have a hand in this, too?” I was so going to hell for this, but misery loved company and I still felt the need to get back at him for being so bossy—even if it had been kind of sexy.
Ali was silent for a moment and Spencer stopped what he was doing to give me a suspicious look. Scraps of the paper he’d been cleaning up fell from between his fingers as he waited for me to clue him in.
I said nothing.
Ali covered the mouthpiece and spoke in hushed tones for a minute, probably to Clay. They were always together these days. They were so cute it was sickening.