Chapter 9

9

F amous last words.

Candace woke with a throbbing headache. She sat up and groaned, gripping her head. The bright light that glared back at her through the blinds was enough to make her want to crawl under the covers and keep her eyes shut until the hangover passed.

So she did just that.

She burrowed under the sheets and her hand smacked something warm and hard. Her eyes shot open, but the lack of light made it difficult to make anything out. Her hand skirted along the warm object, which was skin. Definitely skin.

“What the—“ She scrambled out of the bed just as her stomach rolled. Without even looking to see who she had touched, she hobbled into the bathroom and heaved the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl.

A knock on the door frame had her looking up to find Brent staring back at her. His hair stuck out in all directions, but he still looked as if he had styled it that way. Sexy as fuck.

“Oh, God,” she mumbled. She flushed the toilet and laid down on the cool tile of the floor, curling into a ball the best she could.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I feel like I’m dying.”

His footsteps grew quiet as he walked away from the bathroom, only for them to return a minute later. He squatted next to her head and tapped her shoulder. She glanced up at him to find a sports drink hovering in front of her face.

“Drink up. It’ll make you feel better.”

She sat up and took a long swallow of the drink.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He didn’t move, and after a moment, she glanced at him.

“Why are you in my room?” she asked.

“You’re in my room.”

She glanced around at the surroundings. The room was identical to hers, but with none of her belongings. His toothbrush sat on the vanity, along with a razor, toothpaste, mouthwash, and a comb.

“Why am I in your room?”

He smirked. “You wanted to snuggle.”

There was no way in hell he was telling the truth. Even drunk Candace wouldn’t want to snuggle with him. It didn’t matter that his chiseled chest looked incredible bare, or that his tanned legs made her want to climb him like a tree.

Fuck. Get it together, Candace.

He had been naked in the bed. She glanced down at herself. The only thing she was wearing was a T-shirt. His T-shirt.

“Oh God,” she muttered. She stood up on wobbly legs and limped back into the bedroom, looking around for her clothes. They laid in a pile in the corner. She picked them up and immediately held them away from herself. They were covered in something. Something that smelled awful. She dropped them back to the floor.

“You threw up last night.” He still stood near the bathroom door, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “I rinsed them, but the smell wouldn’t come out.”

Her room was five doors down the hall. It wasn’t a significant distance to go in just his T-shirt, but there were a whole lot of people in the rooms between theirs who she didn’t want to see her making the walk of shame.

Her ankle boot sat nearby, and she leaned down to pick it up, but Brent got there before she could.

“Let me help.”

She wanted to rip it from his hands and tell him she could do it herself, but her foot was already throbbing from her sprint to the bathroom and lying on the floor. She should have never taken it off to begin with.

He knelt in front of her and wrapped it around her ankle. She wobbled and steadied herself by grabbing onto his shoulders. She rolled her eyes when his lips quirked in a smile. But he remained quiet—something she was thankful for.

When he pulled back, their eyes met briefly, and he smiled.

What the fuck kind of universe am I living in?

She moved to walk away, but the boot stopped her. She hobbled for a minute before he quickly grabbed her around the waist, steadying her. The shirt rode up slightly, and the bare skin of her ass felt cold as it was uncovered.

“Where is my underwear?”

“In the puke pile.”

“There’s no way I puked on my underwear.”

He nodded toward the pile of clothes still lying on the ground. “You’re welcome to check.”

His hands were still at her waist, and he hadn’t attempted to move.

“I’m going to go,” she said. Clearly, she had entered an alternate dimension where she and Brent got along. But didn’t they? Especially after their chat the night before? Her memories were a blur. But she was in this situation because he had convinced her to drink. Although, she knew it wasn’t fair to blame him.

“You’re planning to crutch yourself down the hallway in only a T-shirt? I can lend you a pair of boxers.”

She scrunched her face at the thought of borrowing anything else of his. “What about the hotel robe?”

He tipped his head to another pile on the floor. “You threw up on that too.”

She sighed. “I’m fine. I’ll survive going five doors down.”

He held his hands up. “Okay. Don’t say I didn’t offer.”

He went into the bathroom and came out with a spare trash bag, opened it, and deposited her clothes inside while she grabbed her crutches that leaned against the wall. He opened the door to the hallway for her and handed her the bag of clothes, which she tucked under her arm, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She crutched away from his room, but never heard the door click shut. The thought of seeing the satisfaction on his face if she turned back was too much to handle, so she kept the course.

“Stop staring at my ass,” she called back. The breeze told her he was getting a full view.

He laughed loudly. “But it’s such a nice ass.”

At that moment, and to her horror, a door in the hallway opened when she was only a few paces from her room.

No, no, no! Please let it be a stranger.

Jessica’s voice rang out, dashing all hopes.

“Candace? Why are you in the hallway not wearing any clothes?”

Brent barked out a laugh.

Candace fished her key card out of a pocket from the dirty clothes and quickly swiped it. A red light flashed. She swiped two more times before the green flashed across the device. She tossed the bag inside and leaned the crutches against the wall before yanking the shirt down over her ass and turning to face her sister.

Travis was staring at the ceiling, making a show about not looking at her exposed backside, but Jessica only crossed her arms and looked at her with an amused smile on her face.

“Whose clothes are you wearing?” Jessica asked.

Candace’s face flamed, and Brent continued to laugh down the hallway.

Jessica’s eyes widened. “No!”

Jessica looked between the two of them and then asked the words Candace was dreading. “Did you two…”

Brent only laughed and shut the door to his room, leaving Candace to flounder alone in front of them.

“No!” Candace shouted. She cleared her throat and smoothed down the shirt. “No,” she said, much calmer. “I threw up last night, and Brent lent me a shirt.”

Jessica’s eyes only got wider. “So you spent the night in his room?”

Travis glanced between his wife and Candace with an eyebrow raised before slowly dragging his eyes to where Brent had retreated.

Candace tried to lean against the wall casually, but ended up stumbling backward. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Why else would you be in the hallway wearing only his shirt while he watched you from his room?”

Candace’s face flamed even hotter, and if she could die right then, she would welcome it. Instead, she only coughed loudly and pushed inside.

“You know, my ankle is throbbing and I need to rest. Have a great day!”

Before either of them could reply, she slammed her door shut. On the other side of the door, she could hear Jessica asking Travis if he knew what was going on. He said he had no idea.

Candace didn’t either.