Several moments passed and then he murmured, “I’m his uncle. Don’t you know what that means? I protect …” His words were hard to make out until he reiterated, “I’m his uncle!” Then he inhaled sharp breaths, gulping for air. “No!” he cried.
His breathing crescendoed before halting entirely for a few seconds, then his panting slowly decelerated as he shifted around on the sofa. Sophie knew he was now awake. He sat up with a start, then brought his hand to rest on the top of his head, emitting a slow groan of pain.
“Grant?” Sophie called to him, knowing he might be disoriented in the strange apartment.
Silence. Then his confused voice, “Sophie?”
“Yes, it’s me. We’re at my friend Kirsten’s apartment.”
His tongue felt like the Sahara desert, but he managed to get out, “Why do I feel like a CO just clubbed me on the head with a billy stick?”
“Because you had way too much tequila, Grant. Come on, let’s get you some water.”
She rose from the futon and groped through the dark, finding his hand and clasping it securely in her own. “The bathroom is this way.”
He followed her obediently, and once they reached the small bathroom he haltingly requested, “Uh, Sophie, could you …?”
“Sure.” She retrieved a tall glass of water from the kitchen and waited in the hallway, hoping their late-night hijinks would not awaken her roommate. Sophie heard the toilet flush, then Grant sheepishly opened the door.
“Here you go.” She offered him the glass. “I suggest a couple of aspirin, in the medicine cabinet, for your headache.”
He immediately downed the cool liquid and refilled the glass at the tap before opening the cabinet and shaking out a couple of aspirin. After two full glasses of water, he looked at her expectantly.
“I’m surprised you didn’t throw up from all that tequila,” she whispered.
“I have a stomach of steel,” he whispered back. “But how much did I have anyway?”
“You told me you had ten shots.”
“Wow,” he responded, clearly impressed with himself.
“Let’s see how proud of yourself you are tomorrow.” She grinned.
“What does that mean?” His whisper was demanding.
Sophie guessed he was probably still drunk. “Nothing. Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay? It’s the middle of the night.”
His eyelids already drooping, he followed her back to the living room where they each collapsed on their respective makeshift beds. He was still dressed in his cruise uniform, a light-blue collared shirt and navy pants, although she and Kirsten had removed his shoes.
For a moment, Sophie and Grant each considered how much they would enjoy cuddling up to the other, but both dismissed that idea quickly—for so many reasons.
“By the way, I called the hospital, and it sounds like Roger is doing okay,” Sophie reported as she settled into the futon.
“Good,” Grant whispered into the darkness. He was quiet for a few seconds. “Thank you for taking care of me, Sophie.”
“Of course I’ll take care of you, Grant. I was the one who stupidly gave you alcohol in the first place.” After a moment she added, “Drunk Grant is a handful, though,” which caused him to chuckle.
They were quiet once again, and Sophie thought about his gratitude. It felt good to care for him. Caring for others was in her blood, as natural to her as breathing. Grant seemed to possess a similar intrinsic consideration for others.
Sophie wondered if she would hear Grant talking in his sleep again. There was so much she didn’t know about him, about what made him the man he was. Reliving his kisses from the cab ride—and hoping that there were more to come—Sophie floated off into sleep with a soft smile.
15. Sexy Vegetables
He awoke to a splitting headache and the return of cotton mouth.
“Evil,” he whispered. “Tequila is pure evil.”
With a groan, he lifted his sore neck from the sofa armrest and caught a glimpse of tousled strawberry hair splayed across the pillow on the futon. Slats of morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, surrounding Sophie with a warm yellow glow. She was lying on her side with her back to him, and she had kicked off the sheet and blanket, which afforded him a nice view of her curvy behind and revealed the thin T-shirt and shorts clothing her body. Her shirt had ridden up in her sleep, leaving the small of her back exposed. Her smooth, milky skin enticed him.
Though his temples throbbed to the beat of his pounding pulse, he felt no pain as his cool blue eyes traveled up and down her body, taking in every curve, every angle, every freckle. Those long legs, responsible for her five-foot-nine height, caught his attention most of all. His college girlfriend, Pamela, had been barely over five feet, forcing Grant to lean down awkwardly to kiss her. They’d always seemed like a mismatch. He felt certain kissing Sophie would be a much smoother and well-matched endeavor.
Drinking in Sophie’s smooth, sexy legs, Grant imagined those endless limbs wrapped around him, entangling him, trapping him like their prey. He could almost feel the warmth of her skin, and he craved such intimacy with her.
She shifted in her sleep and slowly rolled over, causing Grant to tear his eyes away. Laying his head back on the armrest, he pretended to sleep.
“Grant?”
“Yeah?” He took the risk of opening his eyes and looked in her direction, only to find her staring back at him.
“Good morning.” She grinned. “How do you feel, tequila boy?”
“Stop smiling. It’s not funny.”
She kept grinning. “Yeah, it kind of is, actually.”
He narrowed his eyes in feigned anger before his expression turned more serious. “How is Rog?”
“You don’t remember my midnight report?” she teased. “He seems to be fine, but I was thinking we could go to the hospital this morning to check on him.”
“Good plan.”
She studied his wrinkled shirt, which had partially unbuttoned in his sleep, rewarding her with a view of his strong, defined chest. Trailing her eyes upward to find his gaze boring into her, she nervously cleared her throat. “Would you like to shower first?”
A bemused expression danced in his eyes. “But I don’t have any clean clothes.”
Who cares about clothes? she almost said out loud. “Oh,” she murmured instead. “I could try to find some baggy sweats that might fit.” It might take me awhile. And while I’m looking, it would be quite all right for you to stand there dripping in a towel.
While he considered her offer she added, “And I could make us some breakfast.”
Grant shook his head. “No food.”
“What happened to your stomach of steel?”
“How do you know about that?”
“You told me last night. There are lots you don’t seem to remember.”
“Drunken boasting, I guess. Apparently tequila can burn a hole through steel, judging by how my stomach feels right now.” He paused a moment and then confided, “I do have a strong stomach though. I had to have one in my former career.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t be too cool to get seasick on an aircraft carrier.”
Once again he looked at her with disbelief. “How did you know I was in the Navy?”