Much Ado About You(18)

“Aye. And Roane Robson is a well-known bachelor along the entire coast.”

This knowledge irritated and disappointed me. “A player?”

“Oh God, no.”

Milly’s vehemence surprised me.

She shook her head. “You must have noticed he’s a grand-looking man. He’s got his share of admirers, locals and tourists, but he’s no lothario. In fact, he’s the opposite. Never met a man more monogamous than Roane. He gets a right ribbing from the men round here for it. But he is who he is, and he never shows an interest in tourists.” She grinned. “Unless they save his best friend’s life.” She nodded to Shadow before looking back at me. “And have legs that go on forever.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve already told him I’ve sworn off men. This is a friendly drink to say thank you for saving Shadow.”

Milly chuckled. “If you say so.”

A few minutes later Dexter and Roane returned, and over the course of the next few hours I overimbibed as I was introduced to more locals; people whose names I forgot as soon as they said them . . . because things got very foggy. The last thing I remembered was finishing the sixth bottle of cider.



* * *



? ? ?

Which was probably why the next thing I remembered was waking up in bed with Roane Robson.





Six


The shock of seeing Roane’s handsome sleeping face on the pillow next to mine caused me to jolt upward, and with that sudden movement, a huge wave of nausea rose from my gut. Clasping my mouth, I threw myself off the bed and momentarily panicked as the world spun. Pushing through the dizziness, I lurched into the master bathroom and got the toilet lid up in time.

Ugh, vomiting was miserable.

And my body just didn’t seem to want to stop.

As the worst of it began to settle and I rested my head over the bowl, trying to catch my breath and pretty much luxuriate in my misery, I realized there were gentle hands on me. One was holding my hair away from my face, while the other rubbed my back in comfort.

Roane.

An image of what I’d woken up to flashed across my mind.

Roane, fully dressed, sleeping above the duvet on my bed.

Spitting up the last of the bile, I flinched at the sudden appearance of a washcloth in my face and with shaking hands took it from Roane. Wiping my mouth, I slumped back against the side of the bathtub and watched, pained, as Roane flushed the toilet.

Fragile.

The best word to describe how I felt with the hangover from hell was “fragile.” Like I might break apart at any second. My head pounded, my throat burned, and I felt sick, light-headed, and shaky.

Basically, I felt like I’d poisoned myself, which I had.

Why was Roane here?

I glanced down at myself. I was still wearing the same clothes from last night, so I hadn’t gotten undressed at any point. I didn’t think.

Looking none the worse for wear, Roane strolled out of the bathroom and returned a minute later with two glasses of water and Shadow on his heels. The huge dog came right up to me, towering over me as Roane handed me the glass of water and two pills.

“Take those and then I’ll make a quick breakfast before I leave for the farm.”

Seriously, why was he here? Had something happened last night between us?

Oh God. I hoped not. Not like that.

Not at all! I reminded myself.

“What time is it?” I asked, scratching Shadow behind the ear.

“Just before five in the morning.”

I nodded and took the pills, finishing the water in a few gulps.

While I did this, I watched Roane’s expression veer between amusement and concern.

There was no way I didn’t look like shit. Still in my clothes from last night, I studied my legs for any new bruises and was grateful to find none. Hopefully that meant I hadn’t done any falling down.

“Come on.” Roane held out his hand. “Let’s get some food in you.”

My stomach revolted at the idea. “Please no,” I begged, even though I took his hand.

He slowly helped me to my feet, and although there was nausea and dizziness, I seemed to have emptied all the contents of my stomach for now. “You have to eat something.”

Leading me by the hand, Roane brought me to the living area and sat me down on a stool at the kitchen counter. It was still dark outside, so the kitchen lights felt overly bright to my sore, hungover eyes.

“Why are you here?” I finally asked.

He glanced at me over his shoulder as he opened the refrigerator. “You were wasted last night. So drunk I was worried you might get sick in your sleep. I brought you home and stayed to watch over you.” He turned back to the refrigerator. “I must have fallen asleep too.”

Warmth spread through me. “That was a nice thing to do.”

“Aye, well.” Roane grinned as he pulled eggs out of the fridge. “I owe you.”

Somehow I thought it was something Roane would do for a friend even if that friend hadn’t saved his dog’s life. Watching him as he pottered around the kitchen making me a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast (which I did not want to eat), I realized I wasn’t embarrassed.

Shouldn’t I be mortified to have this gorgeous man witness me drunk and then throwing up the next morning? There was no way I didn’t have mascara streaks on my cheeks and that my pallor wasn’t deathly pale.