Luv U2.
Typing those words out came easily. My momentary panic washed away as quickly as it had come. Yeah, letting someone into my life was scary but I wasn’t better off without Sam. I lay down on the sofa. When I slept off some of the liquor, I’d drive over to the condo and tell her how much I loved her and how stupid I was for doubting us for a second. She’d understand. I knew she would.
The next thing I knew I woke up in a puddle of my own drool face down on the leather sofa. I wiped it up with the bottom of my T-shirt. The sunlight coming in through the windows wasn’t early morning sun, it was late morning sun—I couldn’t see the orb on the horizon. And it was bright. Really fucking bright.
Shit. I must have drank too much and overslept. As I sat up, my head started pounding. I needed water, aspirin, and a shower in exactly that order. My whole pity party seemed stupid in the light of day. I needed to get back to Sam. Picking up my phone, I was relieved to see that I’d texted Sam last night before passing out. My messages were slightly cringeworthy, but hell, I’d been drunk. At least I wasn’t spouting poetry or something. She’d have real concerns then. My phone showed she called twice this morning. Once at nine and again ten minutes later. Then nothing. I’d call her as soon as I showered.
The front door opened and Adam and Finn came in. They stopped near the sofa and Adam gave me a weird look.
“What’s up?” I jerked my chin upward in acknowledgment and then winced when the motion sent a spike through my temple. Ugh. Water. I needed rehydrating.
“Left your friend over at Sam’s this morning.”
“My friend?” I pushed off the sofa and headed for the kitchen. Hand on one hip, I surveyed the room. If I were aspirin, where would I be? Next to the sink. Wait, I’d just ask Adam. “Aspirin.”
He pointed to the cupboard next to the sink, just as I’d guessed. Smart man. Inside I found glasses, aspirin, mints, and a big box of condoms. This was definitely a house full of men.
“Ethan Drake,” he said as I swallowed four aspirin dry and then filled up a glass.
“Yeah, not my friend. Freeloader that came to see if Noah had room in his entourage.”
“Huh.” Adam swirled his keys around his finger.
There was loads unstated in that sound. A sense of foreboding settled over me. I glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was close to eleven in the morning. A lot of time had passed since I’d texted Sam and since she’d tried to call me.
“What?” I asked almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Sam called and asked for you this morning.”
“I saw that,” I replied impatiently.
“She wanted some help taking something down, so I told her Finn and I would do it. Your pal Drake said that he needed to come along because he was delivering a message from you.”
“Oh fuck me, no.”
I got up, ignoring the stabbing pain in my head. “I need to get over to Sam’s right away.”
Adam threw me the keys. “Have it at. Don’t like that guy and didn’t like leaving him there, but he insisted and Sam, well, she seemed eager to talk to him.”
I didn’t like the sound of that either and for a moment, I wondered whether Drake would succeed in seducing her. And then I woke up from my stupid hangover stupor and mentally punched myself. The likelihood of Sam cheating was matched by the likelihood that Drake would stop being a fuckhead. Meaning no likelihood at all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Samantha
“SO YOU’RE OLD FRIENDS WITH Gray?” I asked after Adam and Finn had left. Ethan Drake made me feel uncomfortable and I wished they hadn’t left. I called Gray again but he wasn’t answering his phone. I didn’t want to be here alone with Drake so while Ethan was looking at every corner of my small condo with an appraising eye, I texted Tucker. He was probably on his way into his shop. Maybe he could stop by.
Ethan whistled as he looked around the small place. "Nice setup you've got here.” He stretched out his arms as if measuring the square footage of the place. “So you’re Gray’s new lady.”
He sounded like he knew Gray, sounded like they were friends but there was something off about him. His eyes were really bright and he looked flushed, like he’d just got done exercising or something. Oh, who knows. I was being far too judgmental.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
"Beer'd be great." He sat down and raised his feet to rest them on my coffee table and then thought better for it. I was relieved. I didn't really like when strangers touched my things. But beer in the morning? That seemed…weird but again, who was I to judge?