Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
The thought of these two disappearing in a taxi terrifies me. “Let me drive you home,” I say to Elle.
She looks up at me with a smirk. “Nup, no way,” she says. “Besides, I thought she was driving,” she says as she looks to Sara who’s now asleep on her husband’s shoulder.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” I say before nodding to Sean. “Come on. I’ll drop you guys home, too.”
Sean nudges Sara and lets her know we’re leaving. She fishes through her purse and hands me the keys before letting Sean help her up. “You coming?” I say to Elle who looks completely undecided.
“Nope,” she says.
I stop in my tracks and look down at her, realising she’s just being stubborn. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need you to come in and save me. I’ve been taking care of myself long enough,” she tells me.
“Babe, you’re being stupid. Get your ass out of that chair. I’m taking you girls home.” She presses her lips together in consideration and I can see she’s still leaning towards a big fat no, but unfortunately for her, I’m not taking no as an answer. “I’m not going to take you home and take advantage of you. I just want to make sure you get home safe.”
She rolls her eyes as she gets to her feet. “Fine. You win this round, Captain, but only because I don’t want to sit in the back of a dirty taxi.”
“Noted,” I grin.
Chapter 8
Elle
The blinding sun coming through my bedroom window is enough to wake me and realise that maybe I drunk a few too many glasses of champagne last night. My head aches and I’m pretty sure if I don’t make it to the bathroom within the next few seconds, I’ll be seeing last night’s dinner all over my bed.
I groan as I get myself up out of bed and to my feet. I have to use the wall to stabilize myself as I head down the hallway and find the bathroom. After finishing my business, I take a good look at myself in the mirror. Holy crap. I look like a train wreck. My hair looks like Louie has been living in it for the past few months, mascara is smudged all over my face and for some reason, I’m wearing a shirt that certainly is not mine.
What the hell happened last night?
The last thing I remember is being in the club after that big buffoon crashed my girl’s night with Jaz. Then he ordered round after round, we danced, he said something that is way too blurry for my mind to recall and then I somehow got myself home. Though, I should probably go check in with Jaz to make sure she made it home safely as well, even though neither of us would have left the club without the other. You know, safety in numbers and all that crap.
I look down at the shirt that comes down to my knees and try to remember why it’s familiar to me. I know for a fact that it’s not one of Brendan’s as this is way too expensive for our kind of budget and besides, I buy all his clothes for him and I certainly didn’t get him this.
I wrack my brain as I go about brushing my teeth and washing the mascara off my face. I'm halfway through brushing the nest out of my hair when it hits me. This is the shirt Logan was wearing last night. But how the hell did it get on me and more importantly, why the hell is it on me?
Though… I have to admit, I like the way it looks on me… and smells.
Did something happen last night that I’m not remembering? Shit… is my underwear still intact? I raise up the bottom of his shirt and take a peek. Oh, thank god, there they are. I couldn’t have lost my virginity without knowing, right? I’m sure if that had happened he would have been right there in my bed this morning… or maybe he’s the kind to screw me and leave but then he would have left with his shirt on… right?
Why the hell am I in his shirt? And why the hell do I like it so much?
Shit. There are way too many questions that need to be answered and I’m sure Jaz might have a few of them for me, she tends to do a little better the morning after a big night but first, I need coffee.
I leave Logan’s shirt on as I trudge up to the kitchen, I mean, why not. It’s comfy as hell and smells just like him. I can live in the fantasy for just a little while longer.
I bypass the kitchen and flick the button on the kettle before cutting across the back of the lounge to say good morning to Louie. I take the blanket off his cage and give him a smile that kind of hurts my head. "Hey, little guy. Did you miss me last night?" I ask as I let him out.