I landed with a loud slam. I’d barely caught my breath when a head appeared above me.
“Everything okay?” he asked, and I nodded. “Need a hand up?”
I shook my head, because if I remembered correctly, touching him led to other things.
“What happened last night?” I asked, instead of reaching out and confirming my memories of how nice touching him felt.
His hand went to his neck, and his grin wobbled. “Well, snowflake, I guess we got married.”
My head obviously wasn’t functioning properly yet thanks to my night of debauchery. I thought I’d heard him say we got married.
“Pardon? I think I didn’t catch that,” I said.
“You now have the pleasure of calling yourself Mrs. West. Congratulations.”
His endearing grin almost made me forget what he’d just said.
Almost.
This can’t be happening. Way to turn into the biggest cliché, Kinsley.
“You look a little pale,” Landon said just as I shot to my feet and ran to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I emptied my stomach contents into the bowl.
He was right behind me, holding my hair back.
“Oh God, I’m dying. This is the end, isn’t it?” I wheezed, collapsing on the floor.
Landon picked me up from the floor and put me in front of the sink, holding on to my waist. “You’re not dying, just hungover.”
I rinsed my mouth out and used half the toothpaste to do it. After I was done abusing my gums, I lifted my head, my eyes meeting Landon’s worried gaze in the mirror.
“Can I get you anything? Water? Cracker?” he asked.
I shook my head; the movement made my brain take a tumble. I braced myself against the sink and closed my eyes, willing my vision to return to normal.
Landon’s warmth enveloped me when he put his arm around me.
“Let’s get you back to bed. You’ll feel better after you sleep more.”
I waved him off and stepped out of his comforting embrace. “I’m okay. I just need to—”
“Get your lazy ass out of bed,” Clay’s voice sounded from outside the motel room. “And answer your motherfucking phone.”
Landon studied me for a moment, and when he must have decided I was okay to be left on my own, he went back out into the room, pulled on a pair of boxers, and opened the door.
“What the hell are you still doing here?” Clay asked, stepping into the room.
“What’s your problem?” Landon asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe that we’re here for work? And that you were supposed to be at the convention center over three hours ago?”
“Shit,” Landon swore and went to his bag. After he pulled a T-shirt and jeans out, he hastily got dressed. “My phone fell into a fountain last night.” He pointed to the nightstand where the device sat. “It’s fried.”
I was standing in the bathroom door, watching Landon rush around the room, collecting his wallet and keys.
Clay’s eyes fell on me, and he raised a brow. I waved at him, aware I was only in one of Landon’s T-shirts and my panties. Lucky for me, Landon was tall, and his clothes covered all my important bits.
“I hate to leave you like this, but I have to go, snowflake,” Landon said once he was dressed.
