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I swear my head is going to explode. That may be a better option than facing Bash this morning after what I said. I remember it all. I can’t believe I talked about his cock, repeatedly. I asked if I could call him daddy. I ignore the warm feeling in my stomach over that idea. I had a blast with Ava, though. She knows how to have a good time. Drinking that much wine wasn’t the best idea. I’m not used to it; several bottles later, I was toast.
I stumble into the bathroom, clutching my head at the sudden movement, and take the fastest shower ever. Luckily, Bash left me some clothes. I walk cautiously down the stairs, my eyes on my feet. I have no choice but to look at him and bring my head up. Instead of Bash, I see Bishop watching me.
“Morning,” he smiles. “How’s the head?”
“Not good,” I say weakly. “Where’s Bash?”
“He had a lead,” he says. “Do you want breakfast?” He goes into the kitchen and rummages around.
“I can’t eat,” I say, holding my stomach. “I will have some pain medicine.”
“Do vampires get headaches?” he asks.
I tilt my head, wondering. “I have no idea.”
“We can go out to get some if he doesn’t have any.”
“My phone?” I ask. I pick it up off the counter.
“Jax brought it this morning,” he explains.
“Did they trace the number?”
“No.”
“That sucks.” I sigh.
“What do you want to do today? More drinking?” he asks, smirking.
“I won’t be drinking for a long time.” I take the bottle of water and pills he hands me. “I have to go to the office.”
“I’m not sure Bash is ready for you to have another case,” he says hesitantly.
“No cases. I want to check it with Quinn.” Calling Bash isn’t an option. My conversationlast night is humiliating in the bright light of day. Nope, not ready for that.
“Sounds like a plan. We can eat after,” he says.
“Don’t talk about food,” I complain while putting on my boots.
“But I’m hungry. Bash woke me up at the butt crack of dawn and didn’t let me eat,” he whines.
“Why didn’t you eat something here?” I ask. He’s like a child.
“I didn’t want to eat Bash’s food,” he says.
“Why the fuck not?” I ask, walking to the door.
“I don’t know if you realize this, but Bash is a tad anal. He would kick my ass if I made a mess.”
“So just clean it up,” I say.
“I wouldn’t do it right,” he says.
I set the code. “There’s a right way?”
“Apparently,” he says gravely.
“He hasn’t said anything to me about my cleaning skills.” I frown.
