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Had he left?

And taken the food with him?

“In here,” he called from the living room. My nostrils flared as I stalked over to the door and saw him lounging on the couch, his thighs splayed wide and arms draped along the back. The food was laid out on the coffee table in front of him.

Well, he’d just made himself right at fucking home, hadn’t he?

“I don’t usually eat in here,” I said snippily as I stomped over to the couch, though a hint of guilt flared in my belly. Seeing as he had, for some reason, brought me food.

Plus, it was a total lie. I ate in here all the time.

But I was trying to mentally prepare myself for the teasing and smirks and snide remarks I knew were coming, and my best method of defence against Ewen was snarking back. The fact that a part of me felt horribly vulnerable after what had happened was making my ire rise even faster than normal.

“Thought you’d want to be comfortable,” Ewen said easily, unperturbed by my dickishness, “but we can go back into the kitchen if you want.”

“It’s fine,” I muttered, flopping down onto the other end of the couch and immediately pulling my legs up to hunch in on myself.

I was stiff. Unbearably tense, just anticipating what he might say, and I didn’t know if he noticed. After an awkward pause, he leaned forward to grab the food.

“Got you a burger,” he said, and my mouth watered as he handed me the squishy foil-wrapped sandwich and a big carton of fries.

I cleared my throat, set the burger down on my lap, and awkwardly said, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He picked up his own foil parcel and sat back. He’d already discarded the buns from his burger, and found myself staring as he bit into the slab of meat.

He glanced over, so I quickly looked down and shoved some fries into my mouth. They were salty and a little greasy and still hot, and I wanted to curl up into a ball and not move for a week straight as I started wolfing them down.

“So,” he began cheerfully, and I tensed because I could hear the sly smile in his voice. “Have fun last night?”

My heart gave a heavy thud as panic streaked through me.

“Don’t remember,” I said quickly, then bit into a fry.

He chuckled. “You don’t remember?”

“No.” I set down the carton and unwrapped my burger with slightly trembling fingers. “Don’t remember any of it.”

There was an agonising pause before he huffed in amusement. “Sure. Okay.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, making me light-headed. I took a huge bite of my burger so I wouldn’t be able to answer any other questions.

He knew I was lying.

“So I guess you don’t remember leaving this in my car…” He shifted to reach into his pants pocket—where I’d already noticed a rather large lump—and pulled out a crumpled baseball cap with a pair of tits on the brim.

And, goddamnit, the words Boob Inspector on the back. I hadn’t seen that last night.

He grinned over at me, and I tensed even more. If he tried to put that thing on my head, I was going to smush my burger into his stupid cocky face.

He didn’t. Just smoothed out the crumpled cap and dropped it on the couch cushion between us. “Figured you might want it back. You looked good in it, handsome.”

My face went hot. “Shut up. It—One of the bachelor party guys put it on me.”

He nodded and took a bite of burger, voice light when he commented around his mouthful, “So you do remember some of last night.”

Fuck.

“No,” I blurted. “Nothing else. Just… seeing the hat made me remember. The bachelor party, I mean. Just the bachelor party. That’s it.”