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“Leave me on the roadside for the vultures.”
“No can do. You have to be camera-ready in four hours.” She spared a quick look for me, and it lacked sympathy.
I tried to laugh, but my head pulsated violently, and my chuckle trailed off pathetically. “Before coming to Texas, I don’t remember the last time I had a hangover.”
“Huh, no wonder you look like a corpse walking among us. Fireball isn’t for amateur drinkers.”
The morning after the jalapeno martinis had been fuzzy kittens and rainbows compared to this hangover, but I could tell the worst had passed. The silver lining to getting hammered at lunchtime.
“Okay, we’re here.” She pulled the car to a stop in the rental house’s driveway and jerked a huge and very jangly set of keys out of the depths of her handbag. The rattling sounded like a clanging cymbal in my aching head. I leaned my forehead on the cool glass of the passenger window and prayed for salvation.
“Call Kate. Tell her I’m not going to make it. This is all her fault. She left me with the mayor. It was her idea of good PR, and it was awful.”
I slowly turned my head to look at the driver’s seat. It was empty. Squinting out the front windshield, I watched Cameron march toward the house like a woman on a mission, her ass showcased in a pair of skintight leggings. Using every ounce of willpower I had left, I heaved myself out of the car and followed in her wake through the open front door.
The cool, dark interior was a blissful relief from the garish daylight. I stumbled a few steps into the living room and faceplanted into the big leather sectional. I’d pay a million dollars for a nap and some Advil.
“Nope. Shower first. You smell like a wad of cinnamon chewing gum that’s been stuck to the bottom of a bartender’s shoe on a busy Friday night.” She grabbed my foot and tugged off one boot. My leg flopped limply back to the couch, and she went to work on the other one. My boots removed, she smacked my ass and growled, “Now!”
In another time and place, bossy Cameron would turn me on.
I caught a whiff of my BO. She wasn’t wrong; a shower would be a good idea. I stank.
Ten minutes later, I returned to my prone position on the couch, my clean sweatpants, wet hair, and minty fresh breath proof I’d managed to clean up. In the kitchen, Cameron muttered, rifling through cabinets and drawers. I closed my eyes and tried to rest.
“Here. This is the best I could do.”
I flipped over and squinted up at her. She held out a bowl in one hand and a bottle of sports drink in the other. When I took neither, she shook the bowl. The rattle of tortilla chips piqued my interest. Late last night, I ate a stale ham sandwich a deputy gave me, and I’d left that in one of the red buckets back at the sheriff’s office sometime early this morning.
“Texas hangover cure?” I pushed up and took the offered items.
“You didn’t have soda crackers. I improvised. Eat a few, and if they settle okay, I’ll give you some Advil.” Her arms crossed over her chest, she waited for me to get on the road to recovery.
I cautiously took a chip. The salty crunch was everything I didn’t know I needed in my sad life. I followed the chip with a small sip of the sports drink.
“So? How do you feel?” She perched on the edge of the couch.
“I don’t think I need the red bucket anymore.”
She wrinkled her nose at my answer. It was adorable.
“You have over three hours before the taping.” She checked the time on her cell phone.
“I feel and probably look like death. Give me your phone; mine’s dead. I’ll call Kate and tell her bunco nearly killed me, and we have to reschedule.”
“Nope. It’s happening. The Historic Charmer is under contract to another buyer. We have a special agreement to film there today.”
“So, find another house.” I didn’t have it in me to care.
“After your performance at the courthouse yesterday? Ha! Nope. You’re a pariah in this town. Anyone in Elmer would burn their house to the ground before they let Vacation Dream Homes film inside.” She passed me an Advil, and I dutifully took it.
“The mayor got me drunk. I let old ladies grab my ass. Your brother put me in jail. That was my apology.” I whined like a kid who didn’t want to accept it was bedtime on Christmas Eve.
“Yet there is more groveling in your future. But not today. Today we’re house shopping.” She popped a double set of thumbs up paired with a huge beauty queen smile at me.
I groaned and delicately ate another chip.
“It’s one day. You can do it. Make nice for the camera.” She put a hand on my back and started rubbing big circles.
