“I thought that’s what this was.
“I’m not drunk. And you say you’re sober enough to know what you’re doing, which isn’t how a drunk one-night stand works.”
He pulled me up against him, both of my hands in his one, pinned between our bodies. My lace-clad breasts squashed against his chest, which was still rising and falling heavily, as if the effort to restrain himself was as physically demanding as sprinting a hundred yards flat out.
I wanted his lips. They were plump, looked delicious. “Seven…”
“You really gonna tell me you want it like this? You’re seeing double. Swaying on your feet. Probably fighting a topsy-turvy stomach. Turned on, sure, but you’re mixed up, babe.”
I couldn’t deny that, and opened my mouth to say…I wasn’t sure what. But he wasn’t done.
“In that state, Autumn, can you really tell me you want me to rip that thong off your sexy ass, bend you over this island, and fuck you like a ring bunny after a fight? You want it rough and quick? And then once I’m done, I just leave? Because if I fuck you like that, I’m not coming back. Ring bunnies don’t get seconds. Hear me, on this: I got two modes, babe, and I don’t mix the two. So think hard about what you really want. And realize that maybe I want more than that with you, Autumn Scott. Maybe I want you to be more than a fuck-once ring bunny notch in my belt.”
I swallowed. Heaved a sigh. “You may have a minor point.”
“A minor point,” he echoed, with a gruff laugh. And then his laugh and his grin slid away. “Shoulda stopped you two drinks sooner. Wish I had.”
“It snuck up on me. I don’t drink hard liquor all that much. I usually stick to wine.”
“Noted for next time.”
He released me. Eyes fixed on mine, he slid down to one knee, lifted my pooled dress by the straps. Stood up. Covered me with the dress. Offered me one strap, which I fed my hand and arm through, then the other. His fingers brushed my back between my shoulder blades as he lifted the zipper upward.
“That’s a new one for me,” he murmured. “Don’t often put a dress on. Usually it’s the other direction.”
“You and me both,” I grumbled.
He backed away, fists clenched at his sides. “You good?”
I shook my head. “No. I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t.”
I shrugged. “But yet, I do.”
“I’ll call you.”
“You will, huh?” It was hard to not feel cynical, bitter, and angry. At him, and more at myself.
He shook out his hands. “We’ll talk soon.”
“I hope so.” I didn’t know what to do with my hands. How to look at him. I wanted to hate him for rejecting me and admire him for his moral convictions in equal measure.
He backed up slowly, finally tearing his eyes away from mine to pivot abruptly, yanked open my door, and vanished. The door closed behind him with a soft, final click.
3
BAM-BAM-BAM! “Autumn?” A familiar voice. Female. Concerned, angry, somewhere in there. “AUTUMN!”
“Unh. Mmmm.” I tried to blink, but it hurt. “Hmmm?”
“Autumn? Open the door, goddammit, I know you’re in there.” Zoe, my sister; a very angry Zoe.
I managed the feat of opening my eyes. I was on my couch. Still in my dress. I even had my shoes on, still. I levered upright to a sitting position, swayed. Levered to my feet. Fell back down to the couch, heavily.
“Hold on!” I yelled, which was a mistake—it made my already pounding head pound worse. “Shit. Ow.”
“Autumn, let me in before I kick the door down.”
“Like you could,” I muttered. “I’m coming,” I said, as loudly as my skull would allow.
Which wasn’t loud at all.
There, on the coffee table, the evidence of my idiocy: an empty bottle of cheap red wine. Rejection clearly made me do very stupid things, like drink more when already drunk.
I made it to my feet, wobbled like a newborn giraffe, and hobbled to my door, used it to hold myself upright as I opened it.
Zoe, my twin in all but biological fact, stood with her arms crossed over her chest. Of a height with me, her hair was slightly more red than mine, with a slimmer build. “What. The. Fuck.”
“What?”
“It’s eleven a.m., Autumn. You missed your showing. They called the office to say you no-showed. Luckily I was close so I could fill in for you. I said you were sick. Which, now that I see you, I realize isn’t far from the truth. So I repeat, what—the—fuck?”
I staggered backward, held on to the doorknob to remain upright. “Stop yelling.”
“You’re never this irresponsible, Autumn. What happened?”
“Coffee. Need coffee.”
She sighed. Slid her cell out of the exterior pocket of her vintage Louis Vuitton purse, dialed, put it to her ear. “Lizzy? Yeah, it’s Zoe. I found her. No, she’s…well, alive is an accurate enough term, technically speaking. Once I’m done with her, I’m not sure if it will remain true.” A pause. “Okay, here she is.” She handed the phone to me.
“No, no, I—hi, Lizzy.”
“Autumn. Talk to me, girl. You’ve worked with me and for me for over ten years. You’ve never, ever done anything like this. What happened?”
The disappointment and concern in her voice cut me to the bone.
“Lizzy, I…I’m sorry. I really don’t have an excuse.”
“Sure you do. Maybe not a good one, but I know you, and I know you wouldn’t no-call-no-show without reason. Especially a showing for a house you’ve been working on selling for six months.”
“Fuck.” I hissed. “Fucking goddammit.”
“Zoe covered for you—the buyers are still interested. I’m not angry, Autumn, I’m worried.”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
Lizzy sighed. “Okay. Get your shit together. We’re meeting for lunch.”
“I couldn’t possibly eat.”
“Which is why you have to. A boatload of greasy, unhealthy food will do you wonders. Give me back to Zoe.”
Zoe listened, hummed affirmatively a few times, and ended the call, put away the phone. She stabbed an index finger into my chest. “You. Shower.”
“No.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Autumn.”
“Coffee.”
Zoe pushed past and kicked my door closed with an intentional slam. “Fine. Start with water and Tylenol while I get coffee going for you.”
I turned for the kitchen, wobbled, my heel going out from under me—I recovered, but it was embarrassing.
Zoe snorted. “Take the shoes off, you idiot.”
I collapsed to my butt on the couch, kicked off the shoes, and tried for my feet again. “I suck.”
“I can’t say I disagree.” She scooped coffee into a filter, added water, and started the coffeemaker. In a moment, I smelled recovery brewing. She pulled a can of water from the fridge, rummaged in my vitamin cabinet beside the fridge and dumped a pair of painkillers into her palm. Handing both to me, she waited until I’d taken them. “Now. Coffee is brewing, Lizzy is dealt with, you’ve got Tylenol and water in your system…quit stalling and spill. What happened.”