mind skittered across the fact that she wasn’t sure she remembered everything she’d said and done last night. What if she’d forgotten something significant?
She winced, then willed herself out of bed and got in the shower. Fortunately, the adjoining bathroom was stocked with towels and toiletries, and the shower helped clear her head.
Afterward, stepping back into the bedroom, she threw on the previous evening’s clothes because she had nothing else to wear. She left her panties off, however, and stuffed them in her purse.
She reflected that she really was turning into her mother if she was walking around without underwear.
She shook off the thought as she towel dried her hair. Last night was an aberration. She was going to go home and resume life as usual.
But first she had to get out of here without a confrontation with Ryan.
When she was done fixing her hair and straightening up the bedroom, she slung her purse over her shoulder, took a deep breath and headed toward the door.
Outside in the hallway, she found herself tiptoeing without meaning to.
She told herself that she didn’t want to awaken Ryan if he was still asleep. It was only after seven in the morning. Closer to eight, really, but who was around to quibble with her?
She stole down the stairs, then crept toward the front entrance.
“Good morning.”
She jumped and turned.
Ryan stood there, an amused expression on his face. He was holding a cup of coffee, and looked relaxed and showered.
“Er—good morning.”
He was dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt, and looked not only clean, but refreshed. It wasn’t fair, she reflected, that he should look so put together, while she felt rumpled and tawdry.
“You weren’t leaving without saying goodbye, were you?” Then without waiting for an answer, he added, “Coffee?”
She regarded him suspiciously because he looked to be in a good mood.
He should be furious with her. He’d definitely seemed so last night. She had gotten wasted, hit on another guy and given him the cold shoulder. Then he’d had to drive her home.
“Um, thanks,” she responded, “but I’d prefer just to head home.”
He looked her over. “You’re looking good this morning … all things considered.”
She wanted to tell him that her outfit felt like dessert: Some things were best indulged in before regrets took hold.
His eyes came back to hers and now she could see the flicker of amusement in their depths. “I guess you didn’t have a choice but to jump back into last night’s clothes.”
She looked down at what she was wearing, trying to brazen it out. “What, this? I find a halter top a freshening change from work clothes, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he murmured, then looked at her purse. “I guess the underwear is optional.”
She followed his gaze and realized with embarrassment that her panties peeked out of her open bag.
Could life get any more humiliating?
“No underwear,” he said wickedly. “Just how I like it.”
She flushed. He was enjoying teasing her, and unfortunately she was giving him the reaction he wanted.
He seemed to be flirting with her, though that didn’t make sense.
Last night, she’d proven every preconception he’d had of her and then some. She’d acted like her mother and worse.
“Aren’t you angry at me?” she blurted.
He tilted his head. “What for?”
“For last night,” she tossed out. “I had too much to drink and you had to get me—” she almost said home, but caught herself “—back from the bar.”
There had been more to last night than merely getting drunk, of course, but she left the rest unsaid.
He shrugged. “We all make mistakes. I may have been too harsh.”
“You mean, last night?”
He shook his head. “Since running into you at Distressed Success.”
A strange skittishness seized her at his admission, but she attributed it to vestiges of her flirtation with the wild side the evening before.
“How much do you remember about last night?” he asked.
The answer seemed to matter to him. “More or less all of it,” she hedged.
“Everything?” he probed.
“Enough to know we didn’t sleep together!” She was sure she’d remember that much.
He looked at her thoughtfully, then seemed to switch gears, lightening up and nodding toward the back of the house.
“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll fix you a cup of coffee, then drive you.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
She couldn’t protest too much. The way her head felt, coffee sounded wonderful.
As they walked toward the back of the house, he asked, “How were you planning to get back, by the way? Your car’s back at the tavern.” He smiled briefly. “Or were you planning to strand me by carjacking my car?”
“I knew there were a couple of mountain bikes in the garage,” she responded reluctantly.
He looked at her inquiringly.
“I was planning to bike to the gas station down the road,” she elaborated, “and then call a cab service to take me home.”
He grinned. “You were going to ride a bike wearing a skirt and no underwear?”
She felt herself blush. “I admit it wasn’t one of my better ideas.”
Minutes later, they got into his car, coffee in hand, and began the drive over to the tavern.
“What about grabbing some breakfast nearby?” he asked.
“I need to get Distressed Success open by ten.” His attitude had changed completely this morning, and she still wasn’t sure what to make of it.
He glanced at her. “You’re the boss. Give yourself permission to show up late.”
She cupped her forehead and joked weakly, “I think my interlude of acting irresponsibly ended last night.”
“Coffee, and lots
