“I ran into you outside the bar. You were”—she pauses—“a little disoriented.”
I arch a brow, flinging my feet to the side of the couch and testing how it feels to sit upright. The whole room tilts.
“Okay. A lot disoriented. I drove you home and got you settled in. I stayed because I didn’t want you to choke if you threw up.”
I grimace, swallowing down the terrible taste in my mouth.
“Which you did. Throw up, I mean. Not choke. I made sure of that.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“Around two a.m., everything came back up.”
I scrub my hands across my face. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. It was disgusting.”
I don’t know what to say. It’s weird to have a woman in my house and to think that Noli spent the whole night and I don’t even remember it.
“I’m, uh, going to brush my teeth.” I stand on noodle legs. I can’t bring myself to look at her. I’m ashamed to have anyone see me like this, but especially someone I work with. Someone who has her act together like Noli does. Someone I’ve been trying to impress for the past three months, to no avail.
She hums and, in a snooty voice, says, “That would probably be for the best for all of us.”
My embarrassment hardens into annoyance and, in rapid succession, anger. Noli has made it clear how above me—how above all of us in Cashmere Cove—she holds herself. Yeah, I got drunk. Yeah, she helped me out. But, wow, do I hate her self-importanceright now.
I make my way to my bathroom, fuming. Looking in the mirror, I assess the damage.
Bloodshot eyes.
Great, I look like a zombie lizard.
The previously mentioned drool line.
Hair askew.
Wrinkled shirt.
If the voters could see me now, they’d never elect me sheriff.
The voters.
Oh no.
An entire conversation I had with Noli last night clicks in my mind, coming together like an ugly jigsaw puzzle.
I brush my teeth, hoping against hope that I’m misremembering. Maybe I dreamt it. Alcohol-induced dreams are a thing, right?
My feet feel like ice boxes as I drag myself out to the living room.
Noli stares me down, her cool blue eyes not betraying her thoughts.
When I don’t say anything, she tents her eyebrows. “So, you proposed last night.”
A strained sound comes out of my mouth. It’s like a cross between a tornado siren and a rooster crowing. It startles me, and Noli must be taken aback too. Her head tilts to one side.
I take a deep breath. “Yeah, you can forget that. My team’s idea is beyond ridiculous. And I definitely wouldn’t want to date you—or marry you, for that matter.”
“Oh, is that so?” Noli’s voice pitches in a challenge.
