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Next to her, Andrea’s socked feet twitched while she slept. On the sofa below, either Stevie or Bandit snored softly.

Skye sat up slowly and raised one hand to her head. She let her forehead sink into her palm as everything came flooding back.

She’d run into TJ.

And she’d vomited on his boots.

Skye groaned as the memory had a wash of saliva flooding her mouth. Of all the ways she’d imagined them meeting again, that had certainly not made the list. Goddamnit, it was supposed to have happened at a rodeo, a big event where she could saunter past him, give him a casual smile and a nonchalant, ‘Oh, hi, TJ.’

Instead, she’d been sick as a dog. She’d thrown up on him. And worst of all, she’d cried. And while he might not have known that some of the tears were over him, over the shock of seeing him again so unexpectedly, they had been. ‘Idiot,’ she muttered to herself.

‘Stop shouting,’ Andrea mumbled. She lifted her head from her pillow at the foot of Skyes’s bed to glare at her.

Skye nearly laughed. Although she’d managed to change into her pyjamas, Andrea hadn’t gotten to removing her makeup. Her mascara was ringed around her eyes. A smudge of lipstick had somehow stuck to her cheek even though her lips were long clear of it.

‘You look terrifying.’

Andrea sniffled. ‘At least I managed to change.’

Skye lifted the covers. Sure enough, she was still in the tiny black dress, which had hiked to her waist while she’d slept. ‘Whelp. That’s embarrassing.’ She wiggled her toes. ‘Who put my socks on.’

‘You were wearing them already, but Stevie took your boots off.’ Andrea rolled over to peek at Stevie on the sofa.

Skye followed suit.

Stevie’s face was clear of all makeup. Her sleep headband was neatly holding her hair back. Her Eeyore pyjamas looked cosy and clean. Bandit was curled up at her side.

‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Andrea commented.

Without opening her eyes, Stevie replied, ‘I told you: you gotta go one for one – water to booze ratio.’

‘That’s literally not how intoxication works,’ Andrea stated. ‘Time is the only thing that can reduce drunkenness.’

‘It’s not about reducing drunkenness,’ Stevie mimicked Andrea’s pert tone. ‘It’s about staying hydrated so that you don’t feel like ass the next day.’

Skye and Andrea exchanged a laughing glance. ‘We do look awful,’ Skye admitted.

‘And I do feel like ass,’ Andrea seconded. ‘You?’

‘Oh, yeah.’

‘Told you,’ Stevie mumbled and, turning on her side, spooned Bandit as she dozed off again.

Skye climbed out of bed. She winced as her stomach sloshed with every step. ‘I need a shower, some Advil, and an unholy amount of refined carbohydrates.’

‘I would offer to go, but I can’t drive your truck.’ Andrea moved up to the head of the bed so that she could flick on the TV.

Skye waved her off. ‘I’ll go.’

She showered and changed, and even though Bandit didn’t seem particularly inclined to move from Stevie’s side, she called him so that she could let him out and feed him. Only, the moment she opened the trailer door, Skye stopped dead in her tracks.

Because there, leaning against the piped arena fencing, a box of to-go coffee and a bag of bagels in his hands, was TJ, the man she’d tried so hard to forget.

How Skye got through the next few minutes, she’d never know, but she managed to summon a tone of indifference as she finally said, ‘Look, we had a fling ages ago. It ended. We both moved on. There’s nothing to talk about. And there’s certainly nothing to rehash.’

‘Glad we agree on that,’ he replied casually.

Skye ground her jaw as her anger bloomed. ‘Yup.’