One Last Time(19)

My pulse quickens as we stare at each other. This can’t be happening to me. There is no way that the emotions Noah is stirring in me are real. I’m married still. I’ve just left my husband, and yet, right now, I’m thinking of how much I liked Noah touching me. I’m wondering, if I leaned up a little, would it feel good to kiss him?

It has to be the remnants of the alcohol. There’s no other explanation.

Noah shifts, breaking the connection.

“Thank you for making sure I didn’t drown.” I attempt to laugh, but it sounds off.

Noah’s voice turns playful. “I enjoyed camping, too.”

What? I don’t camp. Who the hell—

“Oh, God!” I close my eyes and try to form some way to get out of this without needing an identity change. Nope. There’s no other option. “I’m going to crawl in a hole and die now,” I mutter.

“I especially liked the interview,” Noah adds on. “I will say, though, as a reporter, you didn’t ask the important questions.”

This is why I don’t like to drink. I can only imagine the crap that came out of my mouth. I already know I clung to him like a barnacle on the hull of a ship, why not make it worse?

“Please, make it stop.” I grip the sides of my head, praying it’ll explode to relieve the pressure.

His hand touches my back and slowly rubs. “Kristin?”

“Yes?” I don’t look up.

“Look at me,” Noah demands.

I lift my head, and he leans closer. “I know you probably regret last night, but I don’t. Not one minute. It also means we’ll have to spend the day together so you can really get your story. Funny who has the dirt on who now, huh?”

Noah stands, his tall frame blocking the sun for a second before I watch him walk inside.

I don’t know what to think. Everything inside my head is bouncing around, causing shooting pains as it moves. Thinking hurts.

Drinking sucks.

Heather is dead to me.

I lie back and start to laugh. This would be my life. I would be the one who has a job to do, can’t talk around him because he’s that freaking hot, and gets drunk. However, I don’t even do that half-assed. Nope, I go balls to the wall and get so hammered I fall into a pool and pass out right in front of the guy I’m supposed to be getting the scoop on.

Oh, how the article has changed now.

The one thing I’ve noticed in my hazy mind is that he didn’t look at me as if I was a drunken idiot when I woke up from God knows what I did last night. In fact, his gaze was full of tenderness. Noah didn’t make fun of me or make me feel stupid, which is what I expected. It would have been like any other time I made an error and had it flung back in my face.

Doesn’t change the fact that I made a total ass of myself.

The door slides open, and I expect to see Noah returning with his glowing tan and perfect hair, but it’s Heather. She looks exactly how I feel. Black streaks are smeared on her face, her hair is in a messy bun, and she’s sporting her sunglasses.

“How you doing?” I ask before I sit up, grab my mug, and gulp my coffee.

“Dude, how much did we drink?” She flops into the chair Noah vacated and rolls to her side.

“Way more than we should.”

Heather pulls her shades down and peeks over the rim. “What the hell happened to you? Are you naked?”

I wrap the blanket a little tighter. “No, but according to Noah, it was an interesting night.”

“Did you get your interview?”

I glare at her. “Nope. I was so hammered that I fell in the pool . . . with my clothes on. I think I tried to kiss him, but I could be drunk dreaming that part. I know I attempted an interview and remember saying something about . . .” I drop my head in my hands.

I did not do that. No, I couldn’t have said all that.

“About?” She prods with a hint of enjoyment in her voice.

“Being a good lay,” I mutter each word tentatively.

Heather bursts out laughing. She holds her stomach as she goes on and on. “You didn’t! Oh, God. You would, Kris. I love you, but you’re such a spaz-ass.”

“I would’ve been professional if my best friend hadn’t gotten me sloshed.”

Then I recall the way I couldn’t even look at him when he walked into the kitchen. I was practically drooling on myself as I sputtered out one-word responses. That is what caused me to take a stupid shot. I figured if I could get myself under control, I could manage it. Apparently, I was seriously mistaken.

“I wasn’t holding a liquor bottle to your head. You did that all on your own.” She pushes her glasses back up.

“Thanks for reminding me,” I grumble. “I can salvage this.”

She snorts and takes the coffee from me. “How?”

“I haven’t figured that part out.”

There is an advantage to this, I know a little more about him. Noah is a sweet guy. Considering he didn’t leave me out here cold and wet all night, I could also add on caretaker as well. I can work with that. If he were an asshole, he’d have left me to fend for myself. The memories come in small, random bursts. His smile, his laugh, the feel of his big, hard . . . I gasp.

“What?” Heather asks, sitting up and looking around.

“It’s fine. I just remembered something,” I say quickly.