Chapter 6
Backaches and Hangovers
“Ladies?” The sound of Rhett yelling through the house startled me awake.
My head was pounding, I had a crick in my neck, and my back felt like I had slept on a pile of concrete.
“I can’t believe we drank all of the wine,” Caroline mumbled, groaning next to me.
“I can’t believe we slept on the floor when there are three brand-new beds in this house,” Harper added in with a little squealing yawn.
Rhett walked in and immediately doubled over, laughing at us. “What am I going to do with all of you crazy women? What in the hell were you thinking?”
“Blame the booze and Facebook stalking,” Annie mumbled, scrambling to her feet. “I need to get to the barn. Jessup and Cara are going to kill me for being so late.”
I jumped out of my skin. “What time is it?”
“Eight,” Rhett answered, setting a carryout tray of coffees on the dresser for us.
“Shit! I have to be shooting a wedding in an hour.”
“You’ll make it.” Harper lazily rooted for me while clutching her blanket, one eye still shut.
“Fuck, I hope so.”
After scrubbing my teeth with an extra toothbrush Harper gave me and borrowing her deodorant, I gathered up all of my stuff and ordered an Uber.
I said my goodbyes and dove into the back of the driver’s car within minutes. I was frantic, but I didn’t forget the coffee Rhett had been nice enough to bring—I could never forget my coffee.
* * *
I couldn’t believeI made it to the wedding on time. With only minutes to spare and a hangover that could have downed an elephant, I leapt feet first into shooting the couple’s special day.
It was completely routine for me at that point. Getting ready pictures in both of the dressing rooms, staging what looked like candid shots of the mothers and fathers fawning over their children, a first look where the groom could barely contain himself, the ceremony, and then an afternoon reception—completely standard, nothing special. It was simple and perfect.
As the fog of my hangover finally started lifting, the wedding was wrapping up right on time. After getting all my gear into my hatchback, I sent a message to Trace:Just finished up. I am going to go put myself together and then head to your place.
Trace: Come straight here. You’re fine just the way you are.
Me: What if I smell?
Trace: Then be stinky with me. I’m impatient and just want to see you.
I smiled to myself as I plugged his address into the navigation app on my phone. I really did want to take a shower to get the booze and closet floor off of my body, but the need to see Trace won out.
It only took me about twenty minutes to pull up to his front gate.Of course his driveway is gated.Instantly, I felt completely out of place. He totally was out of my league. He was the star pitcher on a no-hitter hot streak, and I was the lowly batboy.
I hit the call button, and the intercom beeped as the wrought iron gate slowly opened.
Pulling down the long drive, I finally made it to an enormous mansion with brick walls and vine-covered trellises. Right when I parked, Trace opened the front door, letting his goofy pup lumber out and head right for my car.
I was greeted with sloppy kisses before I could even get out of my seat.
“Clint!” Trace yelled, grabbing the dog’s collar. “Sorry. He gets really excited to meet new people.”
I took Trace’s hand as he helped me out. “I get excited to meet adorable pups, so I think we’re even.”
I bent down to pet Clint as he wiggled and flopped around me. He whimpered at my feet while rolling over, begging me to scratch his belly.