Chapter One
BO
Several things become rapidlyapparent when I blink my bleary eyes open against the harsh morning light.
I’m not home. The walls are painted a pale green instead of the plain white of my room, and there’s a lack of old movie posters and framed family photos. The sheets are purple instead of the understated gray I’ve had since high school.
Now that I’m paying attention to the sheets, they rub against my skin. Againstallmy skin. I’m naked as the day I was born, my clothes scattered around the room haphazardly.
The third and most horrific realization is that I’m very much not alone.
I don’t make a habit of sleeping around, but it’s not the concept of waking up naked next to a hookup that has my blood running cold. It’s the mess of golden ringlets on the pillow next to me, and the long, bare leg tossed over my hips atop the blankets. In a panic, I spring out of the bed and stare in disgust at the woman, nuzzling her way into the pillows and making sleepy noises before falling still again.
My dick is out, and Savannah fucking Ward sleeps in the bed I was just in.
I want to fucking vomit.
I rack my brain for any explanation of how I ended up here, and come up with… nothing. The last thing I remember is having a few drinks at a party with some friends. Savannah was there, but I don’t remember talking to her. Everything gets hazy after my second drink. The rest of the night is one massive black hole.
What thefuck?
I haven’t gotten drunk enough to black out since high school, and even that was only once. I don’t drink like that anymore, and I sure as shit had no plans to get blasted last night. The ranch needs me today, and working hungover is the worst thing in the world.
Wait.
Fuck.
The sun is well above the horizon already, which means I’m late. Dad and I were supposed to help Mom check out the new foals before fixing some of the fencing in the back pastures. We’re at least an hour behind schedule because of me, and I have no doubt my ass will be handed to me on a silver fucking platter.
I scramble into my clothes, keeping my movements as quiet as possible.
This morning is already a wreck, and I can’t handle actually talking to Savannah on top of everything. I need to figure out what the hell happened in the first place, and go from there. There’s no way I would sleep with her, even if the world was fucking ending. I can’t stand her, especially after all the shit she pulled with Oakley and Jamie.
I pick a loose strand of her pink rug off my jeans before pulling them on and searching for my belt. It never comes off unless I’m at home, which only serves to make me more confused about what the hell happened.
My belt and my flannel are both in a heap with Savannah’s skirt, peeking out from beneath the bed. The way my stomach turns has nothing to do with my hangover and everything to do with the pure disgust coursing through my veins.
I can't actually have slept with her. There’s no way.
I wouldn’t.
My keys and wallet sit on the vanity table by her bedroom door. I snag them after tugging my boots on and book it outside. My truck’s in her driveway, and that’s even more confusing. If I was so drunk I don’t even remember last night, driving without crashing would have been impossible. I would never get in my truck if I was that fucked up.I know better.
When I unlock the door, the driver’s seat is pushed way further forward than I ever drive. A sliver of a memory flashes across my mind for half a second.
“Come on, dude,” Savannah says, rolling her eyes as the world swims around me. “Your sister and I have a beef or whatever, but I’m not trying to watch you get killed because you drank too much. Stop being stupid and let me drive you home.”
That makes even less sense than me deciding to drive drunk. No way in hell would I let Savannah drive my truck.
I climb in and shove the seat back to its proper position, unease and a creeping sense of dread sitting heavily at the base of my skull. Thankfully, my phone sits in the passenger side cupholder. As soon as I get the truck started, I search through my contacts. Evan doesn’t drink, so if anyone knows what the hell happened last night, it’ll be him. We usually hang out together all night when we go out.
He’s got to have answers for me.
I wait impatiently for Evan to pick up, the dull buzzing of the dial tone setting my teeth on edge as I gnaw at my thumbnail. He finally answers when I back out of Savannah’s driveway.
“Bo? Everything good?”
Equipment whirrs in the background, and he probably stepped away from work to answer me. I almost never call anyone, and it’s usually nothing short of an emergency when I do.
