“Truth or a pretty princess story?” Blake asked.
Her chest tightened at how sexy he was, standing there like a mythical god with pajama pants riding low on his hips, a wife beater shirt stretched out across his muscular chest, and barefoot. She told herself that men did not have sexy feet but when she looked back at his, they really were. His hair was tousled like he’d gotten out of bed after a night of wild sex. Oh, God, did they have sex?
“Truth?” She pulled herself up and propped her back against the pillows.
“Don’t even want a little bit of the pretty story?” he asked. “I worked one up for you about a princess who was poisoned by her wicked sister who was going to marry a preacher.” He grinned.
The laugh made it past her chest and partially out of her mouth before it stopped and she grabbed her head again. “Just the truth.”
“You got drunker than a rabid skunk, drove your truck over here, and evidently you didn’t want to walk across the yard so you parked right up next to the porch, and passed out cold in my arms. So I put you to bed, and now it’s time to get rid of the hangover.” He poured honey from a cute little bear-shaped bottle into a spoon and said, “Open your mouth.”
She clamped her mouth shut and mumbled. “Will it make my headache stop?”
“It’s the first step. Open up.” He started toward her mouth and she obeyed. She didn’t care if it was arsenic, as long as it made the throbbing between her eyes stop without killing her.
“Don’t move. Next step is coming up.”
Shooter peeked out from under the covers.
She tucked her chin down and glared at him. “If it’s gravy, you can have it all. I’ll gag on gravy this morning. Just thinking about it makes my stomach churn.”
“It’s not gravy. It’s really strong black coffee and two aspirin. This is a four-step program, but it works.” Blake carried in two cups of steaming hot coffee.
He handed her two aspirin, his fingertips tickling the palm of her hand. She tossed them into her mouth and swallowed them with the first sip of coffee. He was right about it being strong. It could melt enamel off her teeth if she held it in her mouth too long.
“Where did you get the liquor?” Blake asked.
Allie shut her eyes tightly. “Granny hides things. I found it in her closet when I was straightening her shoes. Where is it?”
“About half of the Jack is gone and maybe a third of the tequila.”
She groaned. “I’ve never been drunk and believe me I won’t be again. What did I say or do.”
“We had a great talk and cleared up that shit about you saying you didn’t care and then you did some real good snoring.”
She knew exactly how her grandmother felt because she couldn’t remember a damn thing about a talk of any kind. She remembered finding all sorts of things in the closet and drinking from the two bottles. Then there was an argument with Lizzy in the foyer. And then she was going to talk to Nadine but nothing about a talk with Blake came to mind.
“We did?” She opened one eye.
Blake grinned. “Of course we did. You drink the rest of that and don’t move. I’ll bring the third dose back in a few minutes.”
As he left the room, a clear memory flashed and both eyes opened wide. “Oh, no! I wrecked my truck!” She set the coffee on the floor and threw her head back against the pillows with a groan as her stomach did a flip-flop and the memory of her truck rammed into the house came clear. “Plowed right into the house and the horn was so loud.”
Shooter moved over and laid his head in her lap. She propped up enough to continue to sip her coffee with one hand and scratch his ears with the other.
“Scrambled eggs and toast.” Blake returned carrying a plate of food.
She couldn’t eat eggs. Lord have mercy! Was he trying to kill her? “I can’t eat eggs. My stomach can’t handle them. I’ll try a few bites of the toast.”
Blake picked up the fork. “No, ma’am. You will eat every bite of the eggs. There’s only two. Big men like Toby or me, well, we have to eat four.”
“I can feed myself,” she protested.
“You handle the coffee. I’ll do the feeding.” He grinned.
Sensual. Sexy. Hot.
Those words came to Allie and they had nothing to do with the eggs that Blake kept putting into her mouth. There was something sensual and sexy about a man feeding her breakfast in bed, even if it was a hangover cure. Not once in the two years she’d been married to Riley had he ever brought her breakfast in bed or fed her. But she didn’t want to think about Riley; she wanted to focus on the man feeding her the hangover cure.
“No!” she said.
He put another bite into her mouth. “No, what?”
She swallowed quickly. “We are fighting. You shouldn’t be nice to me.”
“We got all that settled last night,” he said.
“I don’t remember it and until I remember it’s not settled. Four steps? What’s the last one?” she asked.
“A banana and then a warm shower,” he said. “Don’t snarl your pretty nose. Trust me! It works.”