I press my hand to my stomach as if that could stop the way it rolls, nausea making my throat feel tight. Taking that bottle of whiskey from the bar home seemed like a great idea. I just wanted to numb the pain for a minute. What I didn’t want, however, was for it to turn me into whateverthatwas last night.
I can feel how hot my cheeks are. How am I meant to face Roman now? I made a fool of myself and, sure, for a minute, I thought he was into it until he pushed me away. He was just there, and he was being sweet, and it seemed like such a good idea.
Whiskey: 1, Niamh: 0.
I run a hand down my face, the pounding at my temples a reminder of my own stupidity, and throw off the sheets that are tangled around my legs. I managed to get my pants off at least, but I’m still in the shirt I wore to work yesterday and my underwear.
“Gross,” I mumble to myself, and finally get up, my knees feeling a little wobbly beneath me as I make my way into the shower. I get in before the water is even warm, letting the cold wash over me for a few seconds before it heats up and I get to work scrubbing away the whiskey and bad decisions from yesterday.
Hopefully Roman will be out working already, and I can escape to the bar before he spots me. I’m not even entirely sure what time it is, but the sun is up, the skies are clear, and I already know it’s going to be warm when I do eventually step outside.
When I’m done in the shower, I make quick work of getting dressed and brush my teeth extra hard to try and get rid of the taste left behind by the alcohol. I need coffee and food otherwise today is going to be torture. I’m already debating whether I should clock out early tonight.
My staff are amazing, and they can run the place without me. They like to remind me of that fact a lot since all I seem to do is work. What they don’t realize is that the bar has been the only thing in the last year that has kept me sane. Even with all that crippling debt andthe grief that weighs down every step I take, it’s been the only constant thing that has distracted me enough.
After I’ve braided my hair, I sneak to the door and carefully push down the handle, hoping not to make a sound in case Roman is still here. I hear nothing but the clock ticking downstairs, so I release my breath and make my way down. I still go quietly, just in case, taking the stairs one at a time. Maybe I can pretend I don’t remember it happening. I had been drinking after all, and maybe if I act like nothing happened, he’ll do the same.
At the bottom of the stairs, I pause, waiting, watching, but I still don’t see or hear him, so I head through to the kitchen only to come to a dead stop in the doorway.
Whiskey colored eyes lift to me where he’s leaning on the kitchen counter, ankles crossed, one hand holding him up while he nurses a coffee. His white tee molds to the shape of him, the sleeves stretched to fit his thick biceps, ropes and ropes of veins protruding from his forearms. His tee is tucked into a pair of Levis that fit his body like a glove, and suddenly my mouth is dry.
This would be so much easier if the man didn’t look like a fucking god. Who works on a ranch when they look like they just stepped off the pages of a cowboy magazine?
“Good morning, sweetheart.” One edge of his mouth curls up in a knowing smirk, his fiery gaze sweeping down me, lingering on my legs. I’d picked a pair of denim shorts since the weather looked good and paired them with my sneakers.
“Roman,” I squeak.
He finally lifts his eyes to me. “How are youfeeling?”
“Hmm?” I push down the memory of my thighs stretched over his lap, push away the tingle I feel in my lips remembering how he’d pushed in deeper with his tongue, the scratch of his facial hair or how the tips of his fingers dug into my scalp just a little. “I’m just fine.”
“That right?” He cocks his head.
“Fresh as a daisy,” I grab a cup and pour myself a coffee, keeping my head down so he doesn’t see the burn in my cheeks.
“Nothing you want to talk about?”
This is my opportunity.Pretend it didn’t happen.
“Not that I can think of,” I shrug nonchalantly, finally lifting my eyes to him and praying my acting skills are better than I remember. I was never good at lying, it’s why I never play poker on poker nights at the bar. I can’t bluff to save my life.
His brows twitch with a frown, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I’m saved when a small orange ball of fluff darts between my legs. It startles me enough that I almost throw my whole cup of coffee across the kitchen.
“Pumpkin!?” My eyes widen when the tiny kitten finally comes to a stop at my feet, its thin tail wiggling as it sets its sight on my sneaker like it’s the ultimate enemy to take down. The cat lunges, sinking its claws into the toe of my shoe.
“Darcy called this morning.” Roman scrubs a hand down his face. “She’s all yours.”
Putting my coffee down, I bend down and pry the baby off my foot and bring her up to my chest. Her whole body begins to vibrate with her purring as I pet her gently.
“She’s still on some meds,” Roman continues, “And a high-calorie formula for her weight. The vet left some instructions for you.”
“I’m going to take the best care of you,” I promise her, melting a little when she starts nudging my hand for more pets.
“Niamh,” Roman’s voice is closer and his scent wraps around me, that spicy, earthy aroma that just seems inherently him. My skin prickles with it. “We need to talk.”
“We do?” My voice gets high-pitched as my heart begins to race.
“Last night,” He starts, but the front door slams open and Silas comes barreling in.
