“No. You’ll see. You’ll be unable to resist making her happy.”
I stared at the surface of the bar, the alcohol making me wistful. The problem was, I actually wanted to believe him. I just wasn’t sure I was built for things like love or marriage.
Besides, despite a brief period of intense happiness, Preston was now miserable. All because of a woman.Fuck that.
“I’m not like you, Preston.”
“What are you talking about—not like me?” he asked.
“I’m not caring or loving. I don’t come from parents with a happy marriage. If I hadn’t met your parents, I wouldn’t think it was something that actually existed.”
Preston laughed. “Not caring or loving? You?”
“Come on.” I shoved his shoulder, causing him to sway on the barstool. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
“I’m not.” He sobered. “Or at least, I wasn’t trying to be.”
He draped an arm over my shoulder, hanging on me, his breath warm in my face. It smelled like the tequila we’d been drinking. “Hunter, you’re a good friend. The best friend. You’re loyal and protective and—” He yawned, and I tried not to roll my eyes. It wasn’t even that late.
“Come on, big guy. I think it’s time to get you home.” I waved to the bartender and cashed out, leaving a generous tip.
“What does that even mean—home?” Preston mused, and I knew he’d regret drinking so much in the morning. “If it’s a place…it could mean my parents’ house or our apartment or even—” He shook his head, trailing off as I nudged him from the barstool. I wrapped my arm around his waist to steady him. I was drunk, but he was completely shitfaced—the perfect cure for any heartache, not that I’d know.
“But if it’s a person,” he mumbled as I guided him to where our ride was waiting. “If it’s a person, then I’ll never be home again.”
“What the fuck are you going on about?” I asked, having only heard half his ramblings.
“What?” He slowly lifted his head to look at me. “You’re really handsome. Did you know that?” He gave me a dopey smile.
I chuckled. “I’ve heard that line before. And yes, you can come home with me. But no cuddling.”
“No cuddling?” His mouth gaped wide. “Cuddling’s the best.”
I shook my head, watching as the driver opened the door. “Get in the car.”
He climbed in the back of the town car, and I followed. I handed him a water before unscrewing the lid on one for myself. I’d flown in for the weekend, making the impromptu decision to check in on Preston after a series of concerning comments from Kate. I could already feel the jet lag sinking in.
“You never cuddle—like ever?” he asked.
“Cuddling sends the wrong message.” I was never one to hold back, especially when I’d been drinking.
He took a swig of his water, then said, “You don’t know what you’re missing out on. You should try it sometime.” He yawned, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. “You might like it.”
The next morning, I woke to a warm body pressed against my back, someone’s arms wrapped around me. I opened my eyes slowly, my head throbbing from the night before. This wasn’t my room, though it looked familiar. Smelled familiar. But I couldn’t think straight—the bright sun was drilling into my brain, making it impossible to concentrate.
I remained as still as possible, trying to remember what had happened last night. It was a bit fuzzy. But I had to admit that being held was actually kind of nice. Not that I’d ever tell Preston he was right. I’d never hear the end of it.
Curious as to who I was sharing a bed with, I peered down at the arm wrapped around me and froze. There was no denying it was a man’s—muscular, dusted with dark hair.
What the fuck?
“Get off me.” I broke free, leaping out of bed. I regretted it immediately, clutching my head as if it would stop the room from spinning.
Preston groaned, then hissed, “Stop yelling.”
“I’m not,” I ground out. “And I wouldn’t have had to yell if you weren’t fucking spooning me.”
An alarm sounded on my phone, and I tried to shush it. But my clumsy fingers kept missing the button. I finally silenced it, only to see the reminder accompanying it. “Shit. I have to go.”
