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"What am I doing here?" I demanded.
Jackson let out a throaty laugh. "Better here than where you could have ended up."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I said crossing my arms across my chest, getting my defenses up. "Where are my clothes?" I questioned, trying to piece together what had happened last night.
"Your clothes are in the dryer. You got sick all over yourself," he muttered, then turned and placed two glasses of juice down on the table.
"You undressed me?" I questioned.
"You didn't leave me much choice. It was either that or let you sleep in your own filth all night. Now sit down," he said, nodding to the chair.
I did as I was told, basically, because I was too tired and hurt too much to fight back. I not only was embarrassed about last night, but suddenly felt dizzy and was afraid I was going to be sick.
"My God, I'm so humiliated," I said as I placed my face in the palms of my hands.
He busied himself flipping the pancakes in the pan and throwing a few strips of bacon down on the griddle, the aroma filling the air.
"You know, you really shouldn't get that drunk. If you think you are humiliated now, you'd be much more humiliated if I hadn't of stopped by Hooligans on my way home, that much I can promise you."
I blew out a breath. "I was with Cara and the girls, Jackson. I was safe."
"Yep, you're right, you were. Until they wanted to leave and you didn't. Then Ben took over."
"Ben?"
"Yeah, your co-worker."
I could already see where this conversation was headed. We'd be right back into another argument. "Ben? What does Ben have to do with this?"
"He was serving up a storm. He planned on taking you home last night. That was until I showed up. He would have had his hands all over you if given the chance. Which I am sure he would have gotten, judging from the state you were in."
"You don't own me, Jackson," I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, my head still pounding.
"No, you're right, I don't. However, I'm still not going to let that dog get his hands on you."
"Please. I work with him. What do you think he was going to do."
I watched as Jackson's shoulders moved in a silent laugh. "Bailey, you always were the innocent one."
"I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Jackson."
"Really? You think so? You were hanging off of me pretty good when I walked you from the bar to the car. I bet you don't even remember coming in here do you."
I shook my head, praying he wasn't about to tell me what had happened.
"Let's see, we were standing outside the door when you finally came to. The first thing you did was run your hand over my crotch and tug at my belt. I almost forgot how turned on you'd get once you had a few." He chuckled.
I was quiet. He was right, I was a mess. I was a mess for many reasons, him being one of them. The scene in the bridal shop as that woman fawned all over him had struck some underlying chord within me.
"Look. I didn't bring you back here for anything else other than to make sure you had a safe place to sleep. I certainly don't want to argue with you," Jackson mumbled as he placed the plate of fresh steaming pancakes and two slices of bacon down in front of me, then handed me the syrup.
I looked up into his eyes and felt an overwhelming sense of protection coming from him. I couldn't help myself, a small smile coming to my lips as I reached for the syrup. "Thank you."
He winked at me, then sat down across from me, quickly taking a bite of bacon before digging his fork into the pile of fluffy pancakes.
"Look, we can't fight. So, I'm calling a truce. We can't ruin Ryan and Cara's wedding because of our past."
"I agree. So what do you propose."
