Page 31 of I Choose You

I drove her home, smiling as she shared more about her time of racing up the corporate ladder at Halden Inc. She was proud of her successes and accomplishments, and I was glad for her. It didn’t sting that she failed to ask about me in return. I assumed the alcohol loosened her enough that she adopted a rambling personality.

It was cute.

She swung over in the passenger seat. Her face was inches from mine, and the hooded-lid gaze might have worked another time. She was drunk, no longer tipsy. And the more she fell under the spell of intoxication, the hornier she seemed to be. “Do you wanna come inside?”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing when her hand slipped on the console. She’d moved so abruptly that she was prone to clumsiness. But she didn’t hold back. Losing the sex-kitten approach and dropping the low, seductive purr, she slanted forward giggling. Giggles turned to laughter, which morphed into hysterics.

I chuckled, helping her sit up. I dodged to the side, avoiding a headbutt. “Yeah, let’s get you inside.”

I helped her out of the passenger seat, offering my hand. She tripped only a couple of times toward her door, sliding against me. The movement seemed to sober her. I wasn’t treated to another invitation to do anything more than see her inside, but she remained flirty as we walked in.

“Do you want—” She hiccupped. “’Scuze me. Would you care for a cup of coffee?”

“No, no thank you.” I smiled as she stumbled to turn off a light.

“Too bright. Um, a cup of tea?”

I shook my head, helping her around an ottoman.

“You just sit tight. I’m going to head to the bathroom.”

Wincing, I watched her head to a door to the left. Was she going to puke? Even if she didn’t, a hangover was due. I hated the idea that she’d need that much alcohol to handle spending time with me, but she wasn’t wasted.

Looking for a silver lining?

I’d had fun too, and weirdly, helping her home filled me with satisfaction.

I didn’t hear any noises from the bathroom, so I helped myself to taking care of her the best I could. It was the least I could do. To the right, I found the kitchen. A quick search through the cabinets got me a glass to fill with water. I snatched a couple of aspirin too. I set them on the nightstand next to her unmade bed, and I smiled at the idea that a professional woman who seemed like a perfectionist would slack in dragging her linens in place.

She exited the bathroom a few moments later. Sans makeup, she looked clean but tired.

“You sure you don’t want,” she yawned, “a cup of coffee?”

I stood and approached her, holding her arm as another yawn had her listing to the side. “Maybe next time.”

Next time. That sounded really fucking good.

She peered at me, and I wondered how much she’d remember.

I headed to the door, glancing back at her confused pout. As I left, I smiled and said, “I’ll see you at the office.”

12

BROOKE

I woke to the sensation of hammers pounding in my head. Squeezing my eyes shut tight worsened it, but the blackness behind my lids was infinitely better than that god-awful blinding light.

Groaning, I rolled over and slapped at my bed. That fucking alarm.

“Shut up.” It was a beastly moan that butchered the words, but my pinkie touched the smooth surface. I scooched over to grab it. With a bleary slitted gaze, I focused enough to snooze my alarm.

I never snoozed. Ever. My morning routine was an unshakable agenda. But this morning, waking with the mother of all hangovers, never say never seemed like a good idea.

Fuck waking up. Screw working out.

My head throbbed. My tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth, dry. Thirst clawed at me as I flopped to my back.

When my arm fell to the cool softness of the mattress, I relished the freedom to lie here sprawled out.