“You got fired,” he deadpanned. “Again.”
I shrugged. “I was at the end of my contract anyway. Two days!” I held up two fingers in a rude gesture and he swiped my hand down, wrapping my fingers in his.
“What am I going to do with you, Fitz?” He chuckled.
“Buy me a beer?” I suggested hopefully.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Detective Kade Galloway drawled, one brow arching over steel grey eyes. “Seems you can barely walk in a straight line sober.”
I ignored him. Linking my arm through Ben’s, I urged us forward. “What are you doing here anyway? On a job?” The detective fell into step behind us and I couldn’t help but be acutely aware of his presence.
“Business meeting,” Ben muttered, glancing down at me. We stopped at the light and he placed an arm protectively in front of me, as if expecting me to cross against the red light.
“Ha ha.” Slapping his arm away, I folded my arms. “Oh? A runaway cat? Cheating spouse?” Those had been Ben’s typical cases since opening his doors a couple of years ago when he left the force.
“Actually, this is a good one.”
“A step up from a cat then.”
“Indeed.”
“If you’re finished with your meeting, how about joining me for a drink? I’ve got a couple of hours to kill—you can tell me all about it.”
The blaring of my alarm jerked me out of my torturous slumber the following morning. Groaning, I reached out a hand, fumbling to silence the headache-inducing screech emerging from the device I usually loved but at right this minute held in extreme contempt. Finally, my fingers landed on my phone and, peeling my eyelids open, I blearily peered at the screen, focusing around the cracks.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I’d forgotten to cancel the alarm. Punching angrily at the red cross, I eventually managed to silence it, tossing it back onto the bedside table, listening as it slid across the surface and fell off the other side and onto the floor with a thunk. I pulled the covers up to my chin, rolled over and attempted to get back to sleep. I don’t know how long I lay there. Minutes? Hours? Possibly days. But eventually, it became apparent that sleep would not be returning and I may as well get up and face my day.
Throwing back the covers, I slid out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, not bothering to check my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t need confirmation. I would bet money I looked as bad as I felt. Hungover didn’t begin to describe it. After the bathroom, I made my way to the kitchen. It wasn’t a long commute. My apartment was small, open-plan. The foot of my bed was literally my living room, sans walls.
With a yawn, I shoved a pod into my Keurig and hit the magical button. While I waited, I pulled out a drawer and dug around inside, my fingers closing around a box of painkillers. Popping two in my mouth, I turned on the faucet, ducking my head to drink directly from the flow. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I leaned back against the kitchen counter, surveying my apartment. Heels, blazer and purse on the floor by the front door. Check. Skirt and stained T-shirt in the middle of the floor, en route to the bed. Check. A random person asleep on my sofa. Check.
Wait. What?
Frowning, I tried to recall last night’s events. Ben had been a champ and joined me at the pub. He’d invited the detective to join us, but he’d declined, much to my chagrin, saying he’d catch up with Ben later. Ben had a drink, maybe two, and I remember playing darts and pool with him. Then Joey had arrived and Ben had left. A couple of others from the office had turned up. There were tequila shots, and then it all gets a bit fuzzy.
So who on earth had I brought home with me? And did we…but no. I was in my PJs and he was on the sofa. Nothing had happened in that department, I was sure of it. But then, who was currently snoring on my sofa?
Creeping forward, I peeked over the back. At that exact moment, he sat up and we almost collided. I leaped back in fright, squealing as I did, promptly losing my balance and landing on my rear.
“Audrey?” Ben propped his arms on the back of the sofa and peered down at me. “You okay?”
“Ben?” I blinked at him. He blinked back.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, scrambling to my feet. The aroma of coffee filled the air so I returned to the kitchen, opened an overhead cupboard, and took down a second cup. “Coffee?” I asked.
“Please.” I heard movement, looked out of the corner of my eye to see him sit up, elbows resting on his jean-clad knees as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“So,” I said, preparing his coffee, “what a night.” I had no recollection of Ben even returning to the pub, let alone coming home with me.
“Yeah.” His voice was muffled and I jerked my head up. He was rubbing his face, vigorously, with both hands.
“You okay?” Crossing to him, I set his coffee on the table in front of the sofa. “Hungover?”
He cocked his head, looking at me. “I guess? I feel…strange.”
“Strange how?” Cupping my hands around my coffee, I took a tentative sip and burned my tongue. Pursing my lips, I softly blew on the black brew.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel weird. How did I get here?”
My eyebrows shot into my hairline. “You don’t remember?” We were both screwed if that was the case. He was shaking his head. I plopped down beside him.
“I don’t either,” I admitted. “I don’t remember you coming back to the Crown & Anchor. I vaguely remember leaving. Pretty sure I got a cab. Damn—that means I’ve gotta go back and get my car.”
He chuckled. “I’ll give you a lift. Later. When you’re sober.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “When you stop reeking like a brewery.”
“Ha ha. So what do you remember?” I tried my drink again, closing my eyes as the blissful kick of caffeine hit my stomach.
Ben was silent for so long that I cracked an eye open to check on him. He was staring at the wall, a blank expression on his face. I frowned. Had he had a stroke? I was just reaching out to poke his shoulder when he swung his head to look at me, making me jump and spill my coffee in my lap.
“Shit!” I jumped up, placing the cup on the table and rushing to the bathroom. Darn, it was hot, hot, hot. I quickly stripped out of my PJ pants, the skin of my thighs bright red from the hot drink.
“You okay?” Ben called.
“I’m just going to jump in the shower,” I called back. Might as well, since I was partially undressed. And he hadn’t been wrong when he said I smelled like a brewery. Anyone would think I’d marinated myself in tequila. Grabbing a strand of blonde hair, I pulled it in front of my nose, rearing back at the stench. Gross. God, I must have dragged my hair through the contents of the bar—and goodness knows what else.
Keeping the water cool, I stepped beneath the spray, wincing a little as it hit my heated flesh. After a few minutes, the sting disappeared and I cranked up the heat, steaming up the bathroom. Freshly washed and shampooed, I eventually dried myself, slipped on a robe and wrapped my hair in my turban towel. I cracked open the door and peeked out. Was Ben still here or had he gotten tired of waiting? I spotted him in the same position on the sofa. Pulling the belt of my robe tighter around my waist, I went and sat down. My coffee was almost cold, but I didn’t care. I slugged it down.