Four
My eyes flutteredopen as cotton mouth and a pounding headache started to overwhelm my senses. I rolled over to find that I was in my bed, naked, with damp hair from a shower I didn’t remember taking. There was a note on the pillow in Mitch’s handwriting.
I’m on your couch. I have your phone and purse. Don’t freak. Take the Advil on your nightstand and drink the water. If it is before 9 AM go back to bed. You were up until five.
I glanced over at my nightstand to see the two pills next to a water bottle by my alarm clock, which read 8:49.
Close enough.
I threw back the medicine, chugged the water, and cinched my robe tightly around my waist. Peeking out my bedroom door, I saw Mitch lying with one leg hanging off my couch, mouth open, snoring like a freight train.
My hangover was slamming into my temples. After starting the coffee maker and scrambling up some eggs as quietly as humanly possible, Mitch finally stopped snoring. I peered across the room to see him stretching.
“Morning!” My scratchy throat tried to project but I could barely hear myself.
Mitch glanced up at me, squinting from the light. “Hey. How are you feeling?”
I poured both of us coffee and made our plates of eggs. “I’ve had better mornings. What happened last night?”
Mitch ran a hand over his jaw as a devilish grin grew wide. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
I slurped some of my coffee, trying to bring back something, anything out of the blackness. “Dancing with you, and then, very vaguely, I remember taking a second shot of something. Was it tequila?”
Even the thought of that clear liquid made my skin crawl, and suddenly my eggs were the most unappetizing thing in the world to even look at.
Mitch chewed his bite, still smirking. “You went a little wild last night. Nothing bad. Yes it was tequila, per your request. And then lemon drops, buttery nipples, and some blue bomb shot that made you puke up blue foam in the back seat of the cab.”
“What the hell? How did I get so trashed?”
Mitch shrugged. “You were celebrating. It happens. Now take a shower and get dressed. You have to take me to my truck and get to that dress fitting before Mags kicks your ass.”
With a groan, I stomped my feet a little. “I want to get back in bed!”
Mitch grabbed my hand and started pulling me into my room. “Shower, put makeup on, and do your hair.” I felt like a six-year-old being scolded for not wanting to go to kindergarten.
“Fine.” I shuffled my feet behind him and made my way into the bathroom.
I made quick work of my normal morning routine while getting bombarded with texts from Mags.
Mags: You’re not going to be late right?
Cali: No, promise. Curling my hair now.
Mags: I am so flipping nervous!
Cali: Why? It’s going to be so fun. We’ll drink champagne and get our measurements perfect!
Mags: What if I hate the dress.
Cali: Shut your mouth. It’s stunning. Ok. I have get Mitch back to his truck at The Saloon and then I will be on my way to pick you up.
Mags: See you soon.
Pulling up to the front of Mags’ building, I shot off a quick text to let her know I was waiting downstairs.
Within a couple minutes she was sliding into my passenger’s seat. “Right on time!” Her wide grin was infectious as she bounced in her seat a little.
“I cannot believe we are going to pick up your fricking wedding dress!” I hit play for our normal car music and let the sweet, rugged timbre of Rodney’s voice flow from my speakers.