Hot and Bothered (Sin and Tonic Book 4) Read online

  Hot and Bothered

  Sin and Tonic #4

  Athena Wright

  BLURB

  A drunk, crying bride in a bar. That was me, after running away from my own wedding.

  Luckily, the handsome bartender took pity on me.

  He dragged me home to sleep it off. He fed me breakfast the next day. He listened to my sob story. And, when he found out what happened, he offered me a place to stay.

  So now I’m temporary roommates with a hot, sympathetic, hot, generous, and did I mention hot, bartender.

  I’ve never felt this way about someone before. I’ve never had such confusing, exhilarating feelings. All of a sudden, being temporary roommates isn’t enough.

  I know I can’t rely on his kindness forever, though. After all, I’m supposed to get married. My parents will never forgive me if I don’t. I have a life I need to get back to.

  But how am I supposed to let him go when he gets me so hot and bothered?

  1

  I lifted the cocktail glass to my mouth with an unsteady hand. The rim clinked against my front teeth. Flinching, I inhaled a sharp, pained hiss, but didn’t let it stop me. I tipped my head back and gulped down the rest of my drink.

  Only a few droplets hit my tongue. I lowered my empty glass and stared down at it in mourning.

  “There’s no more,” I said to nobody in particular.

  Two guys several seats away at the bar counter looked at me. Their eyes widened in unison. I brandished my glass in the air with a wavering, French-tipped and well-manicured hand.

  “There’s no more,” I repeated, lamenting to them this time.

  The two quickly turned their heads away from me, avoiding my gaze.

  That was all right. I didn’t want people looking at me anyway. I wanted to be left alone to cry and drink in solitude.

  That was a pretty big ask, considering I was currently slumped over the middle of a counter at a local bar called Sin and Tonic with black streaks of mascara congealing on my wet cheeks while wearing a pure white, mermaid-style wedding dress.

  “How are you doing, hon?” The pretty blonde girl, who I assumed was a bartender, gave me a sympathetic look as she wiped down the counter in front of me.

  “I drank it all,” I hiccuped, gesturing to my glass. “I need another one.”

  “Maybe it’s time you think about switching to water.” She didn’t wait for me to answer before handing me a bottle. “This one’s on the house.”

  Fresh tears filled my eyes.

  “Thank you,” I blubbered as I took the water bottle from her outstretched hand. “You’re being so nice to me.”

  “What’s your name, hon?” she asked.

  “Alice,” I answered before taking a sip of water.

  “Do you want me to call someone to come pick you up, Alice?” she asked.

  “No.” My breath hitched with a liquid sob. “There’s no one.”

  Even through my drunken stupor, I could see the pity on her face.

  I wiped my cheeks with a napkin. It came back soggy and black. I sniffled and cleared my throat.

  “I’ll go pay my bill and call a cab,” I told her.

  I had no idea where I was going to go. Some hotel, probably. I hated the idea of spending my wedding night alone in a hotel room.

  I hated the alternative even more.

  The pretty bartender girl came back with my credit card and a frown on her face.

  “I’m sorry, hon, but this card is declined.”

  My heart spiked with panic.

  “What?” I sat up straight, then had to grip the bar railing to keep from tumbling over. “It can’t be declined.”

  “I tried it half a dozen times,” she said. “I’m sorry. Do you have another?”

  With a nod, I reached into my pearl-encrusted clutch purse and handed her another black card.

  But minutes later she returned with the same expression, only this time it was laced with worry.

  “This one came back declined, too,” she said.

  Both of them? It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  I dropped my forehead to the sticky bar counter and choked back a wail.

  “Get Evan,” I heard bartender girl mutter to someone.

  It was all I could to do keep from panicking. Was Evan the manager? What happened if I couldn’t pay my bar tab? Would I be forced to wash dishes in the back, or was that a made up movie thing? Would they call the cops on me? Would I get arrested?

  I moaned miserably at the thought of having wanted criminal under my name in the newspaper.

  Right next to the caption runaway bride.

  “Is there a problem here?” said a man’s deep voice from beside me.

  I craned my neck up from where I’d plunked my forehead on the counter, and was met with a large chest, fuzzy and out of focus. I craned my neck up further, blinking my bleary eyes, and found myself staring at a tall, handsome man with darkish brown hair and bright green eyes lit up with curiosity. I resisted the urge to bite down on my bottom lip, even though I was sure any lipstick and gloss I’d put on that morning had been smeared away.

  The handsome man, who was presumably Evan, tilted his head at the bartender girl, questioning without words.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out before she could explain.

  Handsome Evan blinked down at me. His eyes fell on the sparkling tiara nestled in my once-perfect, and now tangled, updo, down my pearl-lined bodice to the white satin, pointed toe heels peeking out from underneath my mermaid skirt.

  “My cards are both declined and I don’t have any cash and I can go wash dishes in the back or something, please don’t call the cops!”

  He stared at me. I blinked up at him. His lips twitched upward at the corners. He glanced at the bartender girl and raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s been sitting here quietly,” the girl told him.

  It was polite of her to say so. I’d been moaning, and sobbing, and generally making a nuisance of myself all night.

  “I’m not going to call the cops.” He pulled up a stool and sat himself next to me. “It looks like you’re not having a very good night.” He left the question open-ended, letting me decide how much I wanted to spill.

  “I’m not,” I hiccuped again.

  Evan propped an elbow on the counter and leaned toward me.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  I supposed that was what bartenders did. Talked to their customers like therapists. There was something about alcohol that loosened the tongue, and who better to dish to than a stranger who had no doubt heard worse stories than yours?

  “I ran away,” I said in a small voice. “I ran away from my own wedding.”

  Compassion lined his face.

  “Did you catch him cheating?” he asked, which I thought was terribly forthright of him.

  “No,” I replied.

  “Was he not a nice guy?” Evan continued, speaking in low, soothing tones.

  “He’s a good guy. I just—” My eyes watered again. “I don’t love him.”

  “A very good reason not to get married,” Evan said with a sympathetic nod.

  “My parents are going to kill me for doing this,” I said.

  “I’m sure they’ll understand,” he said.

  “They’ve already cut off my credit cards,” I said. “That’s their way of showing how angry they are. Reminding me of how much control they have over me.” I took a shuddering breath. “They’re going to be so ashamed. I bet all their friends and business partners are already gossiping about it. And Jacob’s family…” I buried my face in my hands. “They’re going to be so mad at my parents. They might even pull out of the m
erger.”

  Evan’s eyebrow lifted higher and higher on his forehead the longer I continued to speak.

  “I see,” he said slowly.

  The world was starting to go fuzzy again.

  “No, you don’t,” I said. “The whole family business is in jeopardy now. And it’s all my fault.”

  I continued babbling about who knows what, but Evan sat by me the entire time, nodding and listening.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I slurred. “I can’t go back. I just can’t.”

  I listed precariously to the side. Evan caught me by the shoulders before I could slump to the ground.

  He was warm and strong. I found myself cuddling down into his embrace.

  “How about we get you home?” he said. “I’m sure things will look better in the morning.”

  “I don’t think I have a home anymore,” I murmured.

  My vision started to go dark. My body felt heavy, as if my limbs had turned to lead. I rested my cheek against Evan’s chest and let my eyes flutter shut.

  “Lizzy, we’ve got a problem here,” I heard him say through a rush of static as his arms tightened around me. “I think she’s passing out.”

  The world went black.

  2

  A pounding in my head woke me from a restless slumber. Unkempt hair covered my face, with a clump of strands having made their way into my mouth.

  I dared to crack open an eyelid. The bright sunlight streaming through the curtains pierced through me. It was as if a dozen needles had been stuck into my eyeballs. My eyes shut reflexively as I groaned in pain.

  My mouth tasted like a skunk had sprayed the inside, and I could sense the remnants of half a can of hairspray. My cheek was squished into the sheets. I didn’t know where the pillow had gone. The bed underneath me was hard and flat, nothing like the soft, fluffy mattress I was used to.

  My eyes flew open in a panic.

  I didn’t know where I was. Or how I had gotten there.

  I rubbed my temples and tried to remember what happened the previous night. I had a vague recollection of strong arms carrying me. The scent of something earthy but sweet, like a dense, lush forest.

  The night played backward in my head. That handsome guy with the soothing voice. The pretty girl behind a counter. The people staring at me. And the many, many drinks I’d consumed.

  I struggled to roll over onto my side and pushed myself up onto my hip, half-sitting, half-slouching. As my heart pounded, I took stock of my situation.

  I was lying on a sofa bed. The room I was in was small. A desk and small filing cabinet were shoved in one corner. A rack of dumbbells and a workout mat was in the other.

  And there, draped across a chair, was a rumpled and dirt-smeared wedding dress.

  I let out a pathetic moan.

  I remembered now.

  I remembered getting up early that morning to get my hair and makeup done. I remembered my sister spending the entire afternoon lecturing me for one reason or another. I remembered sitting in the bridal suite and listening to the murmuring of hundreds of people waiting in their seats.

  I remembered the anxiety squeezing my chest. The despair thrumming through my heart. I remembered my trembling hands and clammy palms.

  I remembered grabbing my small clutch purse and running out the back door.

  I buried my face in my hands. Two of my once-perfect nails had broken off and three more were chipped.

  I took in a shuddering breath.

  What the hell was I going to do now?

  I peeked through my fingers at the wedding dress. I looked down at my bare legs. I was wearing men’s boxer shorts. The collar of a soft, oversized t-shirt slipped down over one shoulder.

  Someone had undressed me.

  I knew how hard it had been to get into that wedding dress. I couldn’t imagine how long it had taken to get it off, especially when the person wearing it was unconscious.

  I still had no idea where I was, but I had an inkling. The memory of a smooth voice and warm arms had settled into the back of my mind.

  I ambled out of the sheets and padded over to the closed door on bare feet with trepidation. I turned the knob and found myself at the end of a short hallway leading into a living room. There was the sound of rustling and someone murmuring in the kitchen off to the side.

  People always talked about the walk of shame. I was going to outclass that a hundredfold.

  I made my way down the hallway with tiny baby steps. I finally got to the corner where the living room met the kitchen. My shoulders hunched over on themselves as I braced myself.

  I peeked around the corner.

  Handsome Evan was there. His hair fell over his face as he looked down at a tablet, a stylus in hand. He was clean-shaven. That smooth jawline called to me. A distant part of me, deep inside, itched to feel it against my palm.

  Last night, I’d drunkenly ranted to Evan for who knows how long. I remembered bits and pieces, but I couldn’t remember everything.

  What had I told him? How much had I babbled?

  My stomach roiled and turned sour. I was going to be sick. Was it the hangover or the humiliation?

  I cleared my throat.

  Evan looked up. Surprise crossed his face as he flicked his gaze to the clock on the wall, then back to me.

  “Hey there,” he said. “Alice, right? I didn’t expect you to be up this early.”

  I winced and brought a hand to my head. Why was he shouting?

  “Sorry.” He lowered his voice. “Bad headache?”

  I nodded without speaking.

  “I’ll get you something for that.” He put the tablet down and took a bottle down from on top of the fridge, then poured a glass of water. He tried to hand them to me, but I was still cringing, half-hidden behind the corner.

  “You can come sit down.” His eyes glinted with an amused sort of pity.

  I shuffled into the kitchen and sat down gingerly across from him. He put the bottle of pain reliever and the glass of water in the middle of the table. I took it with shaky fingers and downed three pills. The water was refreshing, and I realized how thirsty I was. I chugged the whole thing down in huge gulps. I didn’t even care that I was making unladylike noises.

  When the glass was drained, I let out an exhausted sigh and brought my hands to my face, rubbing at my forehead.

  “Do you want some breakfast?” Evan asked, waving to his own half-empty plate. “Bacon, eggs? There’s still some left.”

  My stomach roiled again as I swallowed back nausea.

  “Maybe just toast, then,” Evan said.

  He pushed his leftover breakfast over to me. His fingers were long but sturdy looking. His palm was so large it would have engulfed mine if he were to take it in his.

  “Thank you,” I said in a croaking voice as I took a piece of buttered toast from his plate.

  Evan watched me as I nibbled on it. I avoided his gaze, pretending to be fascinated with the ticking clock, but watched him back out of the corner of my eye.

  Was he thinking about the previous night? Was he remembering all the things I’d told him? The things I couldn’t even remember saying?

  The kitchen was silent. I was acutely aware of every breath he took, every rise and fall of that broad chest. It seemed as if our breaths had synced, as if my heartbeat was thumping in time with his.

  “Do you have somewhere to be?” Evan asked.

  My breath hitched. The backs of my eyes stung.

  “I should be getting ready to leave for my honeymoon.” My bottom lip trembled. I put down the toast. I finally faced him. “Were you the one who undressed me?”

  “No, Lizzy came with me and helped get you settled in,” he replied.

  “She’s the pretty girl who works at the bar?” I asked.

  “That’s her.”

  “She was nice to me, even though I was being a nuisance.” I took another nibble of the toast before freezing. A sudden thought occurred to me.

  “You’re not a ser
ial killer, are you?” I blurted out.

  “Asking the important questions, I see.” His eyes sparkled with good humor. “Even if I was, would I tell you?”

  I looked down at my toast.

  “I guess not,” I said.

  I continued nibbling. If he was a serial killer, I’d probably have woken up in a dungeon somewhere, tied up or drugged. Besides, I didn’t get any weird vibes from Evan. Or, at least, the vibes I was getting from him weren’t a bad kind of weird.

  Instead, something about him felt warm. Comforting. Familiar, almost.

  “I’m sorry for making a scene at your bar last night,” I told him.

  “Considering how your day was going, I think I can let it slide,” he said.

  “And thank you for bringing me to your place,” I said. “I’m sorry for being so much trouble.”

  “I’ve got to say, taking a drunk, unconscious, runaway bride home with me has never been on my to-do list,” he said.

  At the words runaway bride, my chest clenched with another pang of anxiety and dread.

  “I can’t believe I did that,” I whispered. “Everyone’s going to be so angry. All the money they spent on the wedding is wasted, and now the merger probably won’t go through.”

  “Interesting,” Evan said. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

  I nodded.

  “You didn’t want to marry the guy, right?” Evan asked. I remembered telling him that much. “It’s better to make a few people upset now than to live a life of misery.”

  “My parents won’t see it that way. Neither will Jacob. He’s such a great guy. He treats me well. There’s no reason for me not to marry him.”

  “Except you don’t want to,” Evan said easily, leaning back in his chair. He stretched his long legs out. His socked foot touched my bare one briefly before he shifted it away, leaving a tingling feeling in all my toes. “That’s reason enough, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe.” As I finished the last of the toast, tears began to well up in my eyes. “I don’t know what to do now.”

  “Why don’t you go home and take a few days to yourself?” he suggested.