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Dammit. Why does that thought upset me so much?
Leaving the food on the kitchen table, I brace myself and go look for Brooklyn.
Chapter Seventeen
Brooklyn
“I’m going to my volunteering gig, should be back around noon,” Evan’s note says.
But it’s already past noon.
Where did he?—
“There you are,” Evan says, startling me.
I turn and take him in. And just like that, something flutters in my chest. Are these heart palpitations—a lesser-known hangover symptom? Also, my underwear suddenly feels damp and my nipples overly sensitive. Is a teenager’s libido another side effect of excessive alcohol consumption?
“How are you?” Evan asks softly, studying me.
I wince. “Do you have a guillotine?”
He shows me the jar he’s holding. “Drink this. It helped me, tremendously.”
Hmm. If this is anything like the sunburn poultice, I’d better give it a try.
Cautiously, I approach him and reach for the jar. He again smells alluringly like wax and the salty ocean, with a touch of starfruit. My head was already spinning, but the proximity of his big, masculine frame makes it—along with the dampness in my panties and the nipple situation—much worse.
As I grab the jar, our fingers brush, and I get a flashback of last night, those same fingers all over my?—
“Don’t sniff it,” Evan warns. “Just gulp.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Ignoring my body’s unruly reactions, I unscrew the jar.
If you were to put stinky cheese into a compost pile, a year later the contents would taste and smell a lot like this jar. But hey, after I take a swig, my libido calms the fuck down.
“I know it’s bad,” Evan says. “But my headache is gone.”
“This may be a case of the cure being worse than the disease.” And yet I force myself to take another swig.
Harry waltzes in and looks at me longingly.
“You’re a weirdo,” Evan says to him before turning to me. “Any chance you can share some with him? He tried it earlier and clearly liked it.”
I poke my finger into the horribleness and let Harry lick it off, which the dog does with greedy enthusiasm.
Huh. I guess if sniffing butts is one’s idea of fun, one’s bar for what’s gross is a bit lower than mine.
“Now what?” I ask when the jar is almost empty, and I can’t even imagine stomaching another sip.
“Harry gets the rest,” Evan says with a grin. “Meanwhile, how about you and I get some lunch?”
“Sure.” I don’t feel particularly hungry, but more food should help with the hangover.
Hopefully.
Also, sitting down for a meal might give us a chance to discuss last night. Like, what did it mean?
We head to the kitchen, and I watch in fascination as Evan preps food for the two of us once again. He looks extremely sexy as he does it.
