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I groaned, flopping back against the pillow. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope.” He stretched, his T-shirt riding up just enough to be distracting. “You were out cold. It was either that or let you sleep on the couch.”

I covered my face with my hands. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“Why?” He sounded genuinely amused.

“Because I’m a grown adult. I don’t need to be carried to bed. My dad used to do that for me when I was a kid.”

Wells chuckled. “Trust me, it wasn’t a big deal. Do you not remember the boot debacle? You couldn’t get downstairs.”

I peeked at him between my fingers. He was smirking.

I groaned again. “I hate everything.”

“No, you don’t.” He nudged my foot with his. “You’re hungover.”

“No shit.” I joked. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I held my liquor better than you.” Wells stood, stretching again before offering me a hand. I hesitated for a second before taking it, letting him pull me to my feet.

My stomach did an annoying little flip at the warmth of his touch.

Wells opened the door and Wren stood there, leaning against the railing, smiling.

“Are you guys dating?” She piped up, a wide grin across her face.

“No.” Wells and I said in unison—a little too defensively on both of us.

“Sure.” Wren turned on her heel and went back into her room.

Wells shook his head with a chuckle. “She’s a menace.”

“She sure is.” I sighed, still feeling the heat creeping up my neck. I stepped past him and made my way downstairs, pretending I didn’t feel his eyes on me the whole way down.

The smell of coffee hit me as I reached the kitchen, and there was Blythe, leaning against the counter, sipping from her mug.

She raised an eyebrow as she looked me up and down. “Well, don’t you two look—” she waved a hand vaguely, “—disheveled.”

I scowled. “Nothing happened.”

“I didn’t say anything happened.”

“You implied.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes twinkling. “I would never.”

Charlie walked in behind her, grabbing a piece of toast off a plate. “Yeah, yeah, nothing happened. But did you see Wells’ hair? That’s bedhead if I’ve ever seen it.”

I groaned, covering my face. “I hate this house.”

“You love this house,” Blythe corrected. “I got your car for you.”

“Thank you.” Wells sounded more than appreciative.

“Now, do you want coffee before or after you shower?” Blythe looked between both of us.

“After.” I tugged on the hem of my shirt. “Do you mind if I borrow some clothes? I was thinking about walking to the Coastal Cup.”