After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(61)

Tequila had been the drink of choice. Pretty sure his mom drank me under the table. In any case, I ended up flying to Tijuana with half the bridal party and all of the Castillos.

Forcing my eyes open wide, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and check behind me to make sure I’m alone. There’s no one with me, not even an indentation in the pillow. The bedcovers are reasonably rearranged. No condom wrappers on the floor and the morning wood I’m sporting is barely a semi.

Pushing out of bed, I go in search of coffee and a pain reliever. Ms. Castillo let the entire wedding party stay at her house, which turns out to be a huge hacienda on the outskirts of the city. I can’t remember what her family is into, but based on what I’ve seen so far, it’s very lucrative.

Yawning, I scratch my chest and go through another door, which leads me straight into the kitchen. The smell of coffee fills the air and I want to kiss the pot brewing near the stove.

There’s a woman sitting at the table. From my vantage point, I can see legs, an oversized shirt…and chocolate brown hair pulled into a messy bun, like she spent the night in someone’s bed.

The lucky bastard.

Not a bad view at all.

“Good morning.” I step past her, heading straight to the coffee. “Do I have you to thank for making this?”

“No.” Her voice sounds vaguely familiar to me. “It was already brewing when I got here.”

Grabbing the pot of coffee and a mug, I lean against the counter and pour a cup so that I can get a good look at her. A flash of pink catches my eye first. She’s wearing flowers in her hair. Her chin tips up slightly, revealing a full, pink mouth, high cheekbones, and glasses that frame a pair of dark brown eyes.

I’ve always been a sucker for brown eyes. One of the bridesmaids at the wedding had eyes like that, glasses, too.

“I know you.” I snap my fingers. “You’re the naughty bridesmaid, Sammy.”

“It’s Saylor.” Her head tilts to one side, then she pushes those sexy-as-f*ck black glasses back up on her nose. “Saylor Dean.”

“Got it.” I grin sheepishly at her. “Sorry, I’m not my usual self.”

Her lashes flicker down, then back up. “You don’t seem any different to me.”

I frown. “Is that an insult?”

“Do you think how you normally act is offensive?” She sips daintily from her mug.

“Depends on who you ask. Need a refill?”

She shakes her head. “Not drinking.”

I look pointedly at her cup. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.” This she says right before taking another sip.

Maybe she’s just as hungover as I am? “Mind if I join you?” I flash her the infamous Walker smile, the same one my dad, the senator from the great state of North Carolina, uses in every commercial and on every campaign stop.

Unfortunately, I’ve inherited that smile.

Fortunately, it works about ninety-five percent of the time. Then again, I’m not using my charms to get votes; I’m using it to convince a sexy woman to let me sit with her.

“Why would I mind?” she asks.

“I was being polite.”

Her dark gaze runs over me and my cock stirs. “No you weren’t.”

Something tingles at the back of my brain, but I ignore it. It’s not like I have Spidey-sense. “What was I being then?”

“Flirtatious.”

“You got me there.”

A small smile ghosts her lips. “You’re also nude.”

“What?” I look down and cover my junk, almost burning myself in the process. Shit. That’s all I need is to be labeled a perv in the press. My dad would love that, and while I normally enjoy yanking his chain, this is not what I want to be known for. I’m a fire captain for f*ck’s sake and want to be taken seriously. Hard enough as it is when you’re the guy who not only has a silver spoon, but the entire silver set.

“I’m so sorry. I had a one-track mind this morning.”

“You really did, but…not with me.” She stands up, then places her mug in the sink. “Nice seeing all of you again.”

“You, too, Saylor.”

I watch her walk away, the hem of the shirt she’s wearing barely concealing her plump ass. Giving her a head start, I wait until I can’t see her anymore before I sneak back to my room. At least Saylor didn’t have a phone with her, so I don’t have to worry about dick shots on the Internet.

Forget my father, that would embarrass my mother so horribly that I wouldn’t be able to ever look her in the eye again. Yeah, I’ll admit it. My mother is my weak spot. She’s as kind as my father is crafty. To this day, I don’t know what she sees in him, but I do know they fell in love when they were practically kids.

And I can admit my dad’s not a total prick. He’s faithful to my mom and there’s never been a scandal about him and young interns.

But he can’t wrap his head around why I don’t want to be in the business with him. Why I have no desire to continue to rub noses with the Who’s Who of American politics and world leaders.

Frankly, I can’t stand the pretentiousness of it all. The posturing, the quid pro quo at every turn, and the absolute certainty that only their point of view is gospel.