gaps between my harsh breathing: “Where should I go?”
“I don’t know.” Part of me wants to tell her to get on the next plane out of London, alone. But the selfish—and much stronger—part knows that if she did, I wouldn’t make it through the night without drinking myself sick. Again. My mouth tastes like vomit, and my throat burns from the brutal way my system expelled all that liquor.
Opening the center console between us, Tessa pulls out a napkin and begins to wipe the corners of my mouth with the rough paper. Her fingers barely touch my skin, and I flinch away at the icy cold.
“You’re freezing. Turn the car on.” But I don’t wait for her to oblige. Instead I lean across and turn the key myself, blasting the air from the vents. The air is cold at first, but this expensive-ass car has some trick to it, and warmth quickly spreads through the small space.
“We need to get gas. I don’t know how long I was driving, but the fuel light is on, and that screen says so, too.” She points to the lavish navigation screen on the dash.
The sound of her voice is killing me. “You’ve lost your voice,” I say, even though it’s incredibly obvious. She nods and turns her head away from me. My fingers wrap around her chin, and I turn her face back to me. “If you want to leave, I won’t blame you. I’ll take you to the airport right now.”
She gives me a puzzled look before opening her mouth. “You’re staying here? In London? Our flight is tonight, I thought—” The last word voice comes out as more of a squeak than anything else, and she breaks into a coughing fit.
I check the cup holders for some water or something, but they’re empty.
I rub her back until she stops coughing, then I change the subject. “Trade me places; I’ll drive over there.” I nod toward the filling station across the road. “You need water and something for your throat.”
I wait for her to move out of the driver’s seat, but she rakes her eyes over my face before shifting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot.
“You’re still over the legal limit,” she finally whispers, careful not to strain her nonexistent voice.
I can’t exactly argue with that. There is no way that a few hours of dozing in this car has sobered me completely. I drank enough liquor to black out most of the night, and the resulting headache is massive. I’ll probably be drunk for the entire fucking day, or half of it. I can’t tell. I can’t even remember how many drinks I had . . .
My jumbled counting is cut short when Tessa parks in front of a gas pump and reaches for the door handle.
“I’ll go in.” I climb out of the car before she can argue.
There aren’t many people inside at this early hour, only men dressed for work. My hands are filled with aspirin, water bottles, and bags of snacks when Tessa walks into the small store.
I watch as every head turns to look at the disheveled beauty in her dirty white dress. The men’s looks make me even more nauseated.
“Why didn’t you stay in the car?” I ask as she approaches.
She waves a hunk of black leather in front of my face. “Your wallet.”
“Oh.”
Handing it to me, she disappears for a moment, but takes her place next to me just as I reach the counter. In each hand is a large, steaming cup of coffee.
I drop my pile of things on the counter. “Can you check the location on your phone while I pay?” I ask, taking the oversize cups from her small hands.
“What?”
“The location on your phone, so we can see where we are.”
Grabbing the aspirin bottle and shaking it before he scans it, the portly man behind the counter remarks, “Allhallows. That’s where you are.” He nods at Tessa, who politely smiles back.
“Thank you.” She widens her grin, and the poor bastard flushes.
Yeah, I know she’s hot. Now look away before I rip your eyes from your head, I want to tell him. And next time you make a god-awful noise when I’m hungover, like
“I don’t know.” Part of me wants to tell her to get on the next plane out of London, alone. But the selfish—and much stronger—part knows that if she did, I wouldn’t make it through the night without drinking myself sick. Again. My mouth tastes like vomit, and my throat burns from the brutal way my system expelled all that liquor.
Opening the center console between us, Tessa pulls out a napkin and begins to wipe the corners of my mouth with the rough paper. Her fingers barely touch my skin, and I flinch away at the icy cold.
“You’re freezing. Turn the car on.” But I don’t wait for her to oblige. Instead I lean across and turn the key myself, blasting the air from the vents. The air is cold at first, but this expensive-ass car has some trick to it, and warmth quickly spreads through the small space.
“We need to get gas. I don’t know how long I was driving, but the fuel light is on, and that screen says so, too.” She points to the lavish navigation screen on the dash.
The sound of her voice is killing me. “You’ve lost your voice,” I say, even though it’s incredibly obvious. She nods and turns her head away from me. My fingers wrap around her chin, and I turn her face back to me. “If you want to leave, I won’t blame you. I’ll take you to the airport right now.”
She gives me a puzzled look before opening her mouth. “You’re staying here? In London? Our flight is tonight, I thought—” The last word voice comes out as more of a squeak than anything else, and she breaks into a coughing fit.
I check the cup holders for some water or something, but they’re empty.
I rub her back until she stops coughing, then I change the subject. “Trade me places; I’ll drive over there.” I nod toward the filling station across the road. “You need water and something for your throat.”
I wait for her to move out of the driver’s seat, but she rakes her eyes over my face before shifting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot.
“You’re still over the legal limit,” she finally whispers, careful not to strain her nonexistent voice.
I can’t exactly argue with that. There is no way that a few hours of dozing in this car has sobered me completely. I drank enough liquor to black out most of the night, and the resulting headache is massive. I’ll probably be drunk for the entire fucking day, or half of it. I can’t tell. I can’t even remember how many drinks I had . . .
My jumbled counting is cut short when Tessa parks in front of a gas pump and reaches for the door handle.
“I’ll go in.” I climb out of the car before she can argue.
There aren’t many people inside at this early hour, only men dressed for work. My hands are filled with aspirin, water bottles, and bags of snacks when Tessa walks into the small store.
I watch as every head turns to look at the disheveled beauty in her dirty white dress. The men’s looks make me even more nauseated.
“Why didn’t you stay in the car?” I ask as she approaches.
She waves a hunk of black leather in front of my face. “Your wallet.”
“Oh.”
Handing it to me, she disappears for a moment, but takes her place next to me just as I reach the counter. In each hand is a large, steaming cup of coffee.
I drop my pile of things on the counter. “Can you check the location on your phone while I pay?” I ask, taking the oversize cups from her small hands.
“What?”
“The location on your phone, so we can see where we are.”
Grabbing the aspirin bottle and shaking it before he scans it, the portly man behind the counter remarks, “Allhallows. That’s where you are.” He nods at Tessa, who politely smiles back.
“Thank you.” She widens her grin, and the poor bastard flushes.
Yeah, I know she’s hot. Now look away before I rip your eyes from your head, I want to tell him. And next time you make a god-awful noise when I’m hungover, like
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