Bait (Wake, #1)(9)

I look down our bodies and found his feet sticking out from under the sheets. They were huge. I guessed in his case, what they said about big feet was accurate.

Looking at him, studying him, I should have felt guilty and I noted, surprisingly, I wasn't. Well, not yet anyway. I was sure as soon as he wasn't lying naked beside me that I'd see the error of my ways. I moved my thumb over his nose and traced his eyebrows.

I was being seriously creepy.

And my phone was ringing.

Shit. How long had it been ringing?

I wrangled free, the arm that was trapped under Casey's head, and rolled off the bed toward the sound of Grant's ringtone. If I didn't answer it, he'd keep calling. I didn't answer him the night before. I didn't even text him when I got up here to let him know I'd made it okay. He was probably freaking out.

Bringing the phone to my face, I read that I'd missed seven calls and I had ten new text messages. It stopped ringing while I was on my way over, but only for a second. He didn't leave a message; he called again.

“Good morning,” I said quietly, but somewhat chipper. But then again, I was chipper. I'd had a fantastic night and sex with a sinfully gorgeous man. The problem was that it wasn't with my boyfriend. My almost fiancé. It was with a stranger and he was still there.

“Jesus, Blake. It's about time. I almost called your parents. Are you okay?” His tone was harsh, but I would have been be worried, too. That was, if I’d been calling him all night without any response.

Would I have done that though? Called that much? Probably not. Especially, if he was merely spending time with friends who he hadn't seen in a long time.

Traditional.

Trying to keep my voice low, as not to wake up my guest—I didn't want to be inhospitable—I answered, “Sorry, I didn't hear my phone last night and fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow. I'm fine. How was your night?”

“I can hardly hear you. Why are you whispering? Hung-over?” He laughed a little, teasing me, but he was right. I shouldn't have been whispering. I wouldn't if I were alone.

Trying to compensate for my negligence, I spoke at a normal morning volume, “A little? It was fun though.”

“Listen, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ditched you. I thought that was why you weren't answering. I thought you were mad and you have every right to be. I should have come with you. I'm a stupid man. I'm sorry.” Very stupid as it turned out. And I was easy to distract.

Apparently, we both sucked.

“You better be. Listen, my luggage got lost on the flight. I have to go buy some clothes and get some things. I'll call you later, all right?” All true. Oh and there was a naked surfer-type guy in my king-sized hotel bed sleeping.

“That sucks. Not a very good trip, huh?”

“Uh, actually it's been pretty great. A girl can always use more clothes. Right?”

I hated shopping. I'd rather saw my arm off.

“Right. Well, pick up something nice. I'm taking you out Monday.” I heard the smile in his voice and I felt dread like I'd never felt before. What if he wanted to propose then?

I almost heaved. In my hotel room. With the very visible left-overs of my one-night stand still in my hotel bed. I spared a glance at a sleeping Casey. My conscience demanded explanations, but looking at him, I realized I would have a difficult time listing them all. Who are you and what have you done with the real Blake?

“Okay, I need a shower though. I have a lot to do. I'll call you later.”

“All right, I love you. Have fun,” he said sweetly and my vision blurred.

What had I done?

I turned away from the bed so I wasn’t facing Casey. It didn't seem right to profess love to one man, while I lusted over another. Merely turning away from him didn't make him disappear though, not like I wanted him to or like it would offer any kind of privacy, but I did it anyway not wanting Casey to hear. “Love you, too. ’Bye.” And I quickly hung up.

Before I turned back around, I heard a faint, “Lucky bastard,” come from my messed-up sheets. I looked over my shoulder and smiled. I lifted my phone showing him that I had been talking to someone, “Grant. Boyfriend.”

“Casey. Horny.” I chuckled. I supposed there wasn't any point in hiding anything from him. He was in the same situation that I was.

“Blake. Slut.” He frowned.

“You're a slut? Shit. I wish you would have told me that before.” He patted the bed were I slept beside him all night and I went to him and sat. “Regrets?” he asked.

Regrets? I thought about it and picked at my thumbnail. Do I regret it? I searched myself for the regret and it wasn't there. “No, I don't regret it. Do you?”

“I can't really remember what happened.” He bit his bottom lip. “You might have to refresh my memory.” Then, his smile broke free. There he went again smiling and wiping clean away any trace of sensible thought I had. That toothy, lopsided smile equaled big trouble.

“Nope. If you can't remember it, then maybe I dreamt it. That makes more sense anyway.” I replied to him facetiously as I thought about how I would very much enjoy to doing it again.

I inwardly chastised myself. But I had been drinking more than normal the night before, when I slept with a guy I had just met. I could explain it away with lots of excuses.