Chapter 7

Nate had been up for hours before the sun graced the day with its presence. Words had been pouring out, his fingers barely able to keep up with his mind. The creative block he’d been caught behind was gone, evaporating overnight as he tossed and turned on the couch, the memory of Eloise’s body pressed up against his tempered by Echo’s gentle snores filling the lounge room. He’d given up on sleep at two o’clock, succumbing to the itch to get going, the need to move. The characters in his head had insisted he listen to them, which was better than remembering what had happened last night.

What … or more correctly, who … was still in his bed.

The way Eloise had invited Nate to join her, grabbing at the bottom of his shirt before trying to lift her dress over her head. The bottle of champagne she and Alice had shared in the backseat of his car on the way home had transported them from tipsy to trolleyed.

He refocused on his laptop, the screen filled with text. Good words. If the deep contentment in his chest could be trusted, most would appear on the final pages. There’d be a tweak here and there, his editor would find plot holes and saggy bits, but this was it. The ending his series deserved. A type of nirvana only other writers could understand.

For so long, he’d been bashing his head against the wall, trying to get everything right, and it’d been in front of him all along.

Dark eyes and a teasing mouth.

Featherlight touches that made his skin tingle for hours.

A husky voice whispering everything he’d never dared to say.

And finally, a kiss he’d never forget, even if it shouldn’t have happened.

The oven timer dinged and Nate stood, shuffling across the slate tiles to pull out his sourdough loaves. Steam fogged up the window behind the timber bench when he put the loaves on the cooling rack and refilled his coffee cup before looking out the window over the sink. Frost clung to his back lawn, and fog filled the gaps between the trees.

Nate was buzzing and not because of the caffeine. He’d been productive. If Garrett could get Jemima Jenkins’ team to agree to keep Nate’s requests for minimal public appearances or on-camera interviews, that would be the cherry on top.

He looked down the hall to where his bedroom door was ajar. Echo had long abandoned him, her nose twitching and tail swishing when she realised someone else was here. Never before had a woman spent the night.

His stomach rumbled, and he checked his watch. It was after eleven.

The fridge was stocked with fresh eggs from his chickens and organic bacon from the butcher in Somers Gully. Perfect hangover food. And based on the state Eloise had been in by the time they finally got back to his place, greasy food would be her best friend today.

It’d been so long since he had someone to look after, even if it was only because Eloise had refused to go home, not wanting to disturb Joanie. And while this … whatever it was couldn’t last … it didn’t mean Nate couldn’t enjoy it for a little longer. He’d spent the last few hours living in a fantasy world of his own creation as he finished his draft, so why not indulge in another for a bit longer?

He refilled the coffee machine and set it to brew.

Eloise might not remember last night, but he’d never forget it. Making her breakfast was the least he could do after she’d been brave enough to do what he’d wanted to for years. He’d been drowning in his own melancholy when he’d first returned home from America, but even then, he’d noticed how much Charlie’s kid sister had changed. And the gentle kindness Eloise had shown him had helped coax Nate back into the real world. That was when they’d really become friends. Ever since then, each time their gazes had met in crowded spaces or it felt like they were sharing a private joke at KPs, Nate had wanted to kiss her.

The cooktop click-click-clicked as Nate waited for the gas to catch, his big cast-iron frypan set on his favourite burner. If someone had told him he’d have a favourite burner when he was twenty, he’d have laughed and refused to believe them. At twenty-three, maybe. He’d grown up awfully quick that summer. He pushed the unpleasant thoughts that always accompanied those memories away, determined not to let Cobie ruin this as well. She’d already taken his future from him, and he wouldn’t let her taint this as well.

Not when this fantasy was all he could ever have.

* * *

Was that bacon?Eloise stirred, breathing deeply through her nose.

Some of the nausea had passed, but it still felt like a marching band was playing a private concert in her head as she tried to swallow a flaming sword.

She groaned and kicked off the sheets, needing cool air against her body.

Why am I so hot? And what is that noise?

Unless—Eloise groaned—she must’ve climbed in with Joanie when she got home. Her grandmother’s loud snores were famous in their family, and so was the fact she was always like a furnace. Heat rolled off her … fur?

Eloise’s eyes flew open, and she bolted upright, pitching to the left and falling out of bed with a crash.

Oh, no.The nausea wasn’t gone. Also, this wasn’t her room.

The golden retriever opened one eye and shot Eloise a look so full of reproach it pushed her further from the bed, her foot tangling in the grey quilt.

Navy curtains covered the floor-to-ceiling windows to her right, and a slice of sunlight slipped through a gap, setting fire to her brain. Two deep gulping breaths did nothing to help the nausea climbing her throat, so Eloise focused on the wooden floorboards, breathing through her nose until she could look up. In the corner, there was an enclosed fireplace, a pile of wood stacked in a woven basket her mother would love on the hearth. Eloise pressed her hands to her mouth and swallowed a burp. There was a glass of water and a packet of painkillers next to the stack of books on the bedside table.

Where am I?

Her dress from last night hung off the footboard like it’d been tossed there.

She looked down. The light blue T-shirt she wore swam on her, pooling around her waist, the wide neck slipping off her shoulder.

Fragments of last night drifted back to her.

Over-the-top decorations.

Champagne.

She touched her lips.

A quiet knock distracted her, the hazy memories slipping away.

“You awake?”

Eloise rubbed her tongue across her furry teeth. She’d kill for a whole bottle of mouthwash right now and maybe an IV bag of fluids like influencers spruiked on social media.

“Yep,” she croaked, scrambling up to the bed and pulling the covers back across her lap before crossing her arms over her chest. Where was her bra? Her boobs were way too big to be unsupported right now.

Nate edged into the room, pyjama pants hanging deliciously low on his hips and a long-sleeve shirt with ‘I’m the favourite son’ splashed across it. She’d bet Lulu had bought one for each of her boys.

If she’d slept with Nate and couldn’t remember it, Eloise was going to die.

Nate’s dimples winked at her as he passed her a mug of steaming coffee. Oh, sweet mercy. She really, really didn’t remember it.

She meant to say “thank you”, but “What am I doing here?” tumbled out instead.

Nate padded back to the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame, his own mug cupped between his enormous hands. How had she never noticed how big his hands were?

“You refused to go home or sleep in the guest room.”

Eloise blew on the top of her coffee, tried to stop her stomach from rolling. Sitting upright felt like running a marathon. Not that she’d ever done that.

“What do you remember?”

Her grip on her coffee tightened. “Not much.”

“Looked like quite the party.”

She lifted the cup and ow, her elbows hurt. Why did her elbows hurt? “Those women can drink.”

Nate’s lips curled and sweet merciful Lord, it was so unfair that he could look so goddamn good when she was doing her best impression of electrocuted roadkill.

“I could’ve told you that,” he said. “You were tipsy when Charlie and I came to pick everyone up, but then you all kept drinking on the drive home.”

A vague memory of passing bottles of champagne around the backseat of a car resurfaced. Eloise closed her eyes and counted to five, waiting until she trusted herself to speak. “Why were you there? It was supposed to be ladies only.”

Nate sipped his drink and looked at her from under his offensively long lashes. “There was a problem with one of the limos. Charlie and I came in to help ferry everyone back to Wattle Junction.”

The dog stood up, her front legs planted next to Eloise as she bowed down in a stretch, her nose nudging at a lump under the covers.

“Sorry if Echo woke you.”

“Sorry if I kicked you out of your bed. I mean, did you … Where did you sleep?” Eloise closed her eyes. It’d be great if the ground would stop moving.

“The couch.”

“Oh.” Of course they hadn’t slept together. Nate would never take advantage. She felt terrible for even considering it. Although, in her defence, her brain wasn’t exactly working right now.

Echo nosed under the covers, her tail brushing against Eloise’s hip.

“Hey, get out of there.” Nate strode into the room.

Another memory started solidifying in Eloise’s mind.

Cardboard tearing.

Plastic crinkling.

The low hum of a motor.

A bunny?

Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

Eloise dropped her drink, the hot liquid stinging her bare legs as it seeped through the sheet before the mug toppled off the bed, shattering against the wooden floorboards. She lunged forward. Said a prayer to all the gods she didn’t believe in.

But it was too late.

Echo sat up with the rabbit vibrator clamped in between her jaws.

* * *

Last night’sheels dangled from Eloise’s fingertips. The coffee burn on her thigh protested as she crept forward. She pulled the gauzy material of her dress away from the wound.

Pots and pans clanged in the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread adding to the smell of bacon that was doing its best to break through the cloud of stale alcohol and bad decisions lingering around her.

The front door was tantalisingly close, but there was no way to get to it without Nate seeing her.

Eloise also didn’t have a car. Or her jacket. And she couldn’t walk back into town in her heels. It wasn’t that far but even being upright was a challenge right now.

She’d have to face the man who knew she’d … she’d you-know-what’d in his bed. An orgasm in Nate’s bed was one of the top items on her bucket list, but she’d never anticipated it would be a solo endeavour.

Had she mentioned she was never, ever drinking again?

“I can hear you thinking,” Nate said.

Thank goodness he hadn’t heard her last night. Oh, God. Had he? Was she loud? She wasn’t normally but … Eloise pressed her palms into her face.

“Can we pretend it never happened, please?” she called back.

A shadow crossed the end of the hallway, and Nate appeared. Still in his pyjamas. Still delicious. A little smirky, but well, she’d give him a leave pass on that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was writing all night with my headphones on. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Her shoulders drooped, and her breath rushed out of her mouth. “Thank you,” she mumbled, walking down the hall into the open-plan kitchen-living-dining room.

“One thing, though.”

She paused. Here it came. If the situation was reversed, she would’ve had a lot of questions. God knows she’d imagined it enough.

“Did the coffee burn you?”

Her cheeks heated, and Eloise ducked her head. “It’s fine. I’m-I’m fine.”

“You should have a cool shower for twenty minutes or so. No hot water. I googled it.”

“Joanie will have burn cream at home.”

Nate gave her a stern look before turning back to the cooktop. “Dr Google says no burn cream.”

“Dr Google doesn’t know everything.”

He lifted a spatula, glancing at her over his shoulder. “True, but the article I read was from the Harvard Medical School. Feels like maybe they’d know what’s up.”

She fiddled with the clasp on one of her heels.

“Eloise.” Nate sighed. “Go take a shower. Just in case. I’ll find something for you to wear, too. Then I’ll feed you and take you home. Promise.”

“And we’ll never speak of this again?”

He flipped a pancake. Sent her a reassuring smile that made her feel almost human again.

“Never again.”

She was halfway down the hallway when he called out. His words stopped her in her tracks.

“We might need to talk about how your brother thinks we’re dating, though.”

She spun around, a hand reaching out for the wall to steady herself before she crept back to the kitchen. “Why would Charlie think that?”

Nate picked up his mug with two hands and leant forward until his elbows rested on the timber benchtop. His smirk melted into the most adorable little smile.

“Probably because you kissed me last night.”