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  “Stupid shoe, thanks for the blister.” She tossed it again. This time it came to rest perfectly inside her small suitcase, which was open on the ottoman in front of the room’s armchair.

  “She shoots, she scores!” Dani quickly raised both her arms high in victory and her dress hiked up. The only thing standing between Tyson and a peep show was the sheer black control top of her panty hose.

  And as much as it pained him to do so, Tyson remained in his spot just inside the entrance to her room and chivalrously concentrated on the curtains. He crossed his arms over his chest and let out a cough-­laugh combo to remind her he was still in the room at the same time she felt the cool breeze between her legs.

  She was too sloshed to be self-­conscious. The only thought running through her mind was that the love of her life was standing in her room looking every bit as hot as she felt.

  “Like what ya see?”

  “Always have,” he confirmed, checking to see if her dress was pulled back down. Not quite far enough, but it would have to do.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Tonight? Absolutely nothing.”

  Dani blew him some raspberries and stumbled her way over to her suitcase. She fished around and pulled out the lacy lavender teddy she had packed just in case the occasion arose. It had been part of a very different plan. She held it up by its spaghetti straps and dangled it, then swished it from side to side to make it look like it was dancing in front of him. “Oh yeah? What do you think about this?”

  “I think it’s very sexy.” That was his monotone reaction as he finally moved away from his post near the door. He picked up her other discarded shoe on the way over to her and dropped it into her suitcase, followed by the teddy he had no trouble taking out of her hands. “Got any pajamas in there?”

  Dani searched around the suitcase again and this time came up with her only slightly less erection-­inducing baby-­doll nightgown. “I’ve got this?” She threw it on the bed and began swaying provocatively to some imaginary music, her dress still showing more than it was covering.

  “Well, it’s a start.” He sighed right before she presented her back and started vigorously twerking.

  Damn, even three sheets to the wind, she was good at it.

  He looked away and ran a hand through his hair as she took off the dress and slipped the nightgown over her head. As torturous as it was, he took it as a good sign that he was at least getting a step closer to the end of this episode.

  And then she touched him, brazenly running her hand up the front of his pants, stopping just short of his zipper.

  There is only so much a red-­blooded man can stand. He took her hand and placed it firmly at her side before taking her by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. She went still.

  “Look at me, Dani,” he commanded and waited until she obeyed. “You’re going to hate yourself in the morning as it is. And I made a promise to myself that the next time we shared a bed, the only high involved was going to be from a rush of endorphins. That applies to you too. I’m flattered, I really am. And I want you bad, but not like this. Do you understand?”

  Dani stared at him through dilated pupils and blinked. Her head lolled back a little bit. Then she went ramrod stiff and clamped a hand over her mouth. She wrenched herself from his grip, making a quick albeit clumsy rush for the bathroom. She fell to her knees when she got there, all erotic notions left in the ether.

  The next sounds Tyson heard were the night’s festivities coming to a lurching, gut-­twisting end. He shook his head in amusement while listening to her alternate between moaning and violently retching. He waited for a break in the action and the sound of the toilet flushing, then went into the bathroom to find Dani with her face hovering over the toilet, too afraid to move, waiting for the next round of protest from her stomach. He took a washcloth off the vanity and ran it under cold water.

  “How much did you drink, Dani?” he asked, just to make sure she wasn’t in danger of alcohol poisoning and in need of an ambulance.

  “Five shots. No, wait. No, maybe six. And some champagne.”

  “Mixing is never advisable,” he said amiably, confident he could handle the fallout without embarrassing her further. How had she managed to consume so much in so little time? He couldn’t have been gone for more than ten minutes. But now wasn’t the time to interrogate her.

  “Fireball is so deceiving!” Her wail echoed from inside the commode.

  “I know.” He tried to commiserate but bit back a smile. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and began to pat her face with the cool damp cloth. Or at least, the side of her face that wasn’t pressed up against the toilet seat. “That stuff is really whiskey. It likes to slam you out of nowhere. Of course, by anyone’s standards, you were there to party.”

  “I’m a hot mess.” She had begun to sound more like herself, but nowhere near back to normal. They both knew the worst was yet to come. And she couldn’t explain the reasoning behind it. She had made a promise. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t really me. It just sort of happened.”

  “That’s okay. I got you. You owed me one.”

  “Yeah.” She moaned, leaning back away from the toilet and onto her haunches. She began to wipe her own face with the washcloth. “Only when it was you, there wasn’t the overwhelming stench of vomit-­encrusted salmon in the air.”

  “Don’t worry, darlin’. It stopped being food a while ago. Now you just sort of smell like warm cinnamon.”

  “That explains the burning in my nose.”

  She leaned over the toilet one more time, but there was no other sound except her painful dry heaves. Tyson left the bathroom, and after she was done, she fell away from the bowl and limply to the floor.

  “These tiles are nice and cold,” she said to no one in particular.

  Dani didn’t know how long Tyson left her there, but when she heard him speak, it sounded far away.

  “I think you’ve slept here long enough,” he said matter-­of-­factly before bending down to scoop her up into his strong capable arms. She weakly curled up within them and laid her head on his shoulder.

  “You really are the total package, Tyson.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, sister,” he replied as he carried her back into the bedroom. The sheets were already turned down and there were ten bottles of water lined up in rows on the nightstand. He gently placed her on the bed and opened one of the bottles before saying, “I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but you need to drink as much of this as you can.”

  Being a good girl, she obediently sat up and tried to follow his instructions by taking several sips. Then she lay back down. A minute later, her eyes opened wide and she was back to moaning.

  “I can’t stop the room from spinning.”

  “Take one of your feet and put it on the floor. It’ll make you feel grounded,” he told her.

  She planted a foot flat on the floor. Much to her relief it worked. It was completely awkward, but she was willing to stay in the ridiculous position all night if it kept the nausea to a minimum.

  “Ha-­ha. Grounded. That’s what I should be. For like two weeks.” She gave him one more giggle.

  “I have a pretty good idea your day tomorrow will be punishment enough,” he replied, letting himself enjoy the adorableness of it one last time.

  “You know all the tricks,” she murmured before passing out.

  Tyson covered her up as best he could and tucked her in with a kiss to her forehead. He stood beside the bed and watched her, waiting a few minutes to make sure she was going to stay asleep. Before leaving to make his way back to the party he leaned over to kiss her one more time and said, “Except the one to get you outta my head.”

  CHAPTER 15

  DANI’S EYES FELT like crusty, burning pits before she opened them. She kept them closed as she debated which was mo
re debilitating, her pounding head or her queasy stomach. Her mouth felt like an army had marched through it and half the troops had wiped their boots on her tongue.

  But her eyes shot open as soon as the memory of how she spent her New Year’s Eve came flooding back. Dani quickly sat up, and with the movement her stomach took the lead in the “what’s worse” contest.

  With a slow and mortified turn of her head, she checked the other side of the bed and found it empty, with no indication that the covers had been moved in any way. Her panty hose and bra were still on under her nightgown.

  Of course he went back to his own room, she thought miserably, carefully swinging both feet over the side of the bed and onto the floor. She placed her elbows on her knees and the heels of her palms on her eyes in an effort to stop the throbbing. Not even Tiger Woods could get turned on by last night’s display.

  She picked her head back up and spied all the bottles of water lined up on the nightstand. She also found the notepad with the DoubleTree heading and Tyson’s neat, legible handwriting.

  Happy New Year, Dani. Breakfast is 9 at Aqua. Checkout is noon.

  He had the unmitigated gall to add a smiley face.

  Dani covered one eye and glanced over at the digital clock at the opposite side of the bed: 9:45. Too late to join whoever else was downstairs in the hotel’s restaurant. That was probably for the best. Not only was the mere thought of food revolting, but she also had no desire to do the walk of shame in front of Mr. God’s-­Gift-­to-­Women and his new bride. Or Chase Walker and his sassy wife, who hadn’t touched a drop. She had embarrassed herself and Tyson enough.

  “Tyson,” Dani groaned out loud as a new wave of queasiness, this one mixed with a hearty dose of humiliation, washed over her. She fell back onto the bed praying another hour would be enough to sleep it off.

  DANI AWOKE WITH A START an hour and a half later. She scrambled to take a quick shower and pack up, forced to temporarily put her suffering on hold. She didn’t bother looking into the mirror after taking off what was left of last night’s smeared makeup. Her face was sallow, and her eyes had circles around them dark enough to get the job as the cover model for Raccoon Quarterly. No amount of concealer or blush in her little bag of tricks would save her. The only thing that was going to help change how she looked was time and a whole lot of sleep. It was impossible for Dani to wrap her head around the fact that there were ­people who indulged in such behavior on a regular basis.

  She sat on the bed after getting dressed, trying to stall until the last possible minute before going down to the lobby and facing him. At 11:55 there was a light knock on her door. Thinking it was housekeeping, she went to let them in. She opened the door to find Tyson instead.

  “Morning, Dani,” he said with a small telling smile as he walked into her room to get her suitcase. Without asking, he reached for her hand and placed two Advil in it. “How you feeling?”

  “That question is rhetorical, right?” she groaned. Her fingers curled around the much-­needed pain medication like they were diamonds.

  “That good?” he continued, glancing over at the nightstand and the still untouched bottles of water. He took one and held it out to her. “I promise, the more of these you drink, the quicker you’ll start feeling up to snuff. You have to hydrate. Your brain is banging all around in there from lack of water.”

  He pulled up the handle on her bag and began to roll it behind him. “We’re all checked out. I made your good-­byes to the Montgomerys and the Walkers. They asked me to tell you it was nice to meet you. And they hope you feel better.”

  Dani was still too muddled and fuzzy to tell if he was being sarcastic. She only knew one thing: she wasn’t going to get a read by looking at him, since shame prevented her from meeting his eyes. And that was a real pity, because under normal circumstances, looking at him always made her top-­ten list.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to say good-­bye,” she mumbled, contrite.

  “It was only the Montgomerys this morning, all forty of them. The Walkers left last night. Chase was all hyped and yelling something about getting back to living the dream.”

  Dani kept her eyes on the floor. Right about now, Chase Walker was lavishing love and affection on his wife after finding out he was going to become a father.

  Mercifully, Tyson led her out through a side door. Dani poured herself into the passenger’s seat and let him drive them back to the airport. They were quiet, but for different reasons she was sure. She was in twelve kinds of agony, and not all of them included the amber liquid that had turned her inside out. He was merely thoughtful. At first she didn’t think much of it. Too many things were hurting her. And Tyson was good with comfortable silences. She had just worked up the nerve to start slipping in a few random glances at him when he spoke up.

  “Dani,” Tyson began slowly. “I think you may have been right in saying it was bad policy for us to be seeing each other. I think us going to this wedding together was a mistake.”

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” she said immediately.

  “No, it’s not that,” he was quick to assure her. “But it is a stark reminder of just how different we really are. You got so blasted last night, but other than a wicked hangover, you don’t have a problem. And by that I mean, you can go out socially, tie one on, suffer the consequences, and not drink for another six months without missing it. I’ll never have that luxury. It’s not fair for me to expect you to give up cocktails at a party or a beer at a game just because I have to. But it’s also not fair to me to have to sit by and watch you do it. I make you so uncomfortable you didn’t even feel like you could drink in front of me last night. I can’t be responsible for something like that.”

  “I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but I swear this was a very, very rare occurrence. I don’t know what came over me.” She knew exactly why she did it, but how was she supposed to tell him any of her reasons now? Even the one about her shoes turning against her would just make her look reckless and stupid. She tried to make a small joke out of it. “It’s another first I got to share with you.”

  Tyson continued like she hadn’t spoken. He sounded resolved, although not actually sad. “There are just too many painful memories attached to it for me.”

  Dani knew in that one sentence he had already made up his mind. He wasn’t lecturing her, and this wasn’t about making her repent. He had thought about it rationally, then decided his course of action, what he thought was best for everyone involved. But for Dani, the disappointment was sudden, and crushing. Her response was to once again erect her wall of anger.

  “You’re probably right. We’re not really a good fit,” she told him curtly. She knew Tyson well enough to know there was really nothing else to say that would make any difference.

  “If it’s all right with you, I’d love to go back to being friends. I still think you’re amazing. I’m just not the guy for you.”

  But his kindness was too little, too late. How nice of him to decide what was and was not right for her. She nodded, stone-­faced, and he took her silence to mean she was still suffering and left her to nursing her hangover.

  Nothing more was said for the rest of the ride, except that Tyson insisted that she keep drinking the bottles of water he brought along. Sometimes she took his advice, sometimes she didn’t; all the while she intermittently stole glances at him. His face was unreadable.

  “You going to be okay to drive home?” he asked politely as they got off the turnpike exit for the airport.

  “Of course,” she replied stiffly. I’m used to you getting your jockstrap twisted in a bunch and discarding me.

  Tyson pulled the car in front of the terminal and they both got out. He went to grab his garment bag out of the trunk and she started making her way around the car to take the driver’s seat. They met at the rear bumper, finally coming face-­to-­face. His look had softened
and hers had turned to stone.

  “I’ll see you back in Austin?” he asked encouragingly.

  “Unless you get me fired before then” was her ice-­cold response.

  Tyson shook his head and sighed. He hated the look on her face, and fought the urge to wrap his arms around her. He knew if he kissed her, all he had just put her through would be for naught. “Dani, it’s not like that, and you know it.”

  Before he could say anything more, they heard the shrill yet familiar sounds of strangers shrieking, “Hey! It’s Tyson Palmer. Over there!”

  “Your public awaits,” she said, her tone bland. Then she brushed past him to get back into the car. She looked over her shoulder as she opened the door. “Happy New Year, Tyson.”

  “Happy New Year, darlin’.” Tyson watched the taillights of the Mercedes as she drove away.

  Dani headed back to Ardmore and probably would’ve started to cry, but she was too dehydrated to produce any tears. There wasn’t a single part of her body that didn’t feel sick and sore. Now she could add her heart to the mix, the only part that wouldn’t feel better over time and was already used to the ache. By the time she reached the rest area right before her exit to the Pennsylvania Turnpike, the water caught up to her and she made a pit stop. She dragged herself out of the car to the restroom, telling herself that she should be grateful and relieved. He had made it easy for her. She would never subject Brendon to someone as rigid and unyielding as Tyson. Her secret could forever remain just that. Hers.

  She was so preoccupied with the stern self-­lecture of all the things she would need to do moving forward, she never felt her iPhone slip out of her jacket pocket. It fell silently onto the bathroom stall floor, secure in its thin protective case.