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A vague recollection of meeting a sexy bartender at The Barnyard and drinking vodka shots began floating through her fuzzy brain. He’d put her in his truck, driven her back to his place, and put her to bed. But he hadn’t stayed with her, and she abruptly realized she was still dressed.
Dull pain thumped through her head, and she was desperately thirsty. Hoping she’d find a medicine cabinet and aspirin, she slowly climbed from the bed and staggered across to the open door she remembered led into a bathroom. Stepping in and finding no glass on the counter, she ducked her head beneath a faucet and turned it on. But as she gulped down the cold water she heard a knock on the bedroom door.
“Are you awake?”
It had to be him.
Mr. Sexy Bartender.
Lifting her head, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Her heart sank.
The tangled mess of hair on her head defied description, and her bloodshot eyes were framed by smeared makeup.
“Yes, but give me a second,” she called back, looking around for a face cloth.
Finding one in a drawer, she managed to wipe away the blotched mascara and mauve eyeshadow. It helped, but running her fingers through her hair made little difference.
“Come on in,” she said, still trying to smooth it down as she walked unsteadily back into the bedroom.
The door opened, and the muscled guy was even sexier than she remembered. He had to be at least six feet tall, and his chestnut hair was enviably sleek and glossy. As he neared, and she stared up at his ridiculously clear green eyes, she wanted the floor to swallow her up. She was a mess.
“I thought you might need this,” he declared, carrying a small tray to the bedside table.
She spied a bottle of aspirin and a mug of coffee, along with cream and sugar.
“Noah!” she exclaimed, suddenly recalling his name, then flushed red with embarrassment.
“Yes?”
“Uh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I don’t have many guests and that bathroom has no supplies. I’ll be right back.”
As he left, she sat on the edge of the mattress, poured the cream and sugar into the hot drink and took a sip.
It was the best coffee she’d ever had in her life. After gulping down half the mug, she took two aspirin and let out a relieved breath…then frowned.
How much had she told him?
She must have said something or she wouldn’t be there.
“Here you go,” he exclaimed, marching in and startling her.
Darting up her eyes, she saw him holding two towels, an unused bar of soap, and a bottle of shampoo.
“Thanks again, Noah, and this coffee is so good.”
“I’m glad you like it. I’m fussy about my coffee. I buy it freshly ground from a roadside stand and make it in a French Press.”
“That explains it. Do you have any idea where my bag is?”
“There,” he replied, pointing to a small chair across the room.
“I didn’t see it. Sorry, I’m a bit hungover.”
“Understandable,” he remarked, raising one wicked eyebrow. “I have to run over to the barn but I won’t be long. The kitchen’s just down the hall on the left. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
