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Eventually, I managed to croak, “Why are you in my yard?”
He shrugged lightly. “You didn’t answer the door, and I wanted to check on you. Just came around the side.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Never better.”
He looked me up and down again, then nodded solemnly. “Looks like it.”
“I’m bleaching my hair,” I said defensively.
“I can see that.” He looked at the towel and supplies still laid out on the floor. “What colour you going for this time?”
“Uh…” Why was he here? Why were we talking about my hair? Why did he have to be wearing a crop top and grey sweats? “Pink.”
He looked back at me and grinned. “Nice. You look pretty with pink hair.”
Here we fucking go. He’d been here thirty seconds and the teasing remarks had already begun. And thanks to my drunken stupidity last night, I had provided him with an endless supply of new material.
“Shut up,” I grumbled, scrunching the plastic bag in my hands and ending up with bleach all over them. My legs a little shaky, I walked over to the trashcan and stuffed it inside as he chuckled.
“Brought you some food.” I looked over while washing my hands to see him take a single step inside and hold up the paper bag. “Figured you might want something with lots of fat and salt.”
My belly was still a little shaky, but it tightened with hunger as I eyed the bag, reminding me that all I’d really eaten over the last twenty-four hours was some toast and tortilla chips.
No wonder I’d gotten so wasted last night.
The shots with Frank and Beans and the bachelor party probably hadn’t helped either.
And all that champagne.
Drying my hands, I turned and watched with alarm as Ewen sauntered over to the island and started pulling food out of the bag. Enough for two people.
“I have to wash my hair,” I blurted, my palms starting to sweat at the thought of having to sit and eat with him.
There was no way in hell he wasn’t going to take the absolute piss out of me for what happened last night if he stayed.
I couldn’t handle it. I was too fragile right now.
He laughed, setting down a stack of napkins. “First time I’ve had that excuse used on me.”
I flushed. “I—Because of the bleach. Hot roots.”
Ewen shot me a big grin. “We don’t want hot roots, do we? Go wash your hair, handsome. I’ll wait.”
I hesitated, then sighed in defeat and shuffled toward the hall. I knew Ewen well enough to know he wasn’t going to relent. He never relented. Looked like he was staying to eat.
Fuck.
Fuck everything. Fucking… fuck.
“Don’t call me that,” I remembered to say before leaving the kitchen, and I heard Ewen chuckle.
“Sure thing, kitten.”
Letting out a silent groan of despair, knowing my torture was just beginning, I dragged my feet up the stairs and into the bathroom. My hoodie was ruined from the bleach, so I left it crumpled on the floor. After shivering under cool water for a few minutes to rinse out my hair, I dried off quickly and pulled my pyjama pants back on, as well as a clean T-shirt.
I didn’t know how to feel as I apprehensively padded back downstairs. Dan Ewen was in my house. He was in the same building as the mattress he knew I’d humped thinking about him.
I took a deep, fortifying breath and walked into the kitchen, then froze when I realised it was empty. The takeout bag was still on the counter, but the wrapped food packages were gone. My gut kind of… sank.
