Part 6 (2/2)

Chapter 6.

”f.u.c.k me.”

Sydney jerked out of sleep when Gavin groaned and muttered the explicative. They were spooning, she realized. Her backside was pressed intimately against his p.e.n.i.s, which was swiftly growing in size. Gavin rolled over onto his back and Sydney immediately felt bereft, almost lost for a moment.

She glanced over her shoulder. He lay there with his arm thrown over his face.

”Gavin?”

”What?” His voice was more gravelly than usual, and gruff.

”Are you okay?”

”I drank a f.u.c.king fifth of Jack last night. Do you think I'm okay?”

Not a morning person, she decided. Certainly not after a night of heavy drinking.

”Can I get you anything?”

”You can make the G.o.dd.a.m.ned hammers in my head stop. And water. Jesus, my mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton.”

”Bear,” Sydney muttered as she slid out of the bed. He was as grumpy as a bear disturbed in the middle of hibernation.

”f.u.c.k off.”

Okay, worse than a bear. Sydney hurried from the room.

”Took you long enough,” he complained when she returned and handed him a gla.s.s of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. He ripped off the cap with his teeth, dumped four capsules into his hand, tossed them into his mouth, and then drank the entire gla.s.s of water.

”I had to wait for someone to get out of the bathroom so I could get the ibuprofen,” she said defensively. She felt oddly hurt by his gruff treatment this morning. He'd been so sweet and nice last night. And he called her by name. He had been beginning to show signs of acting like the sort of man she might actually consider mating with. Maybe.

Apparently, it had been the liquor talking.

”Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are still here? You can kick them out, you know.”

”I know. But it doesn't feel right. Not when they travelled so far. Ignacio came all the way from Spain.”

”He may have been born in Spain, but he lives in f.u.c.king Milwaukee now. That's only a day's drive from here. Send him home.”

”I'm going to leave this room now, before this conversation deteriorates any further. If you think it would be better for all involved, I'll bring you breakfast in here, so that you don't have to pretend to be nice to everyone out there.”

”I would never pretend to be nice to those a.s.sholes, even if I didn't have the hangover from h.e.l.l. Get out of here. It p.i.s.ses me off when you're nice to me while I'm being an a.s.shole.”

She left.

As far as Sydney was concerned, this day could be ripped from her life and burned. Nothing went right. It started out lousy, and progressed down that same path until she wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and bury her head under the covers until it was over.

But she couldn't even do that, because Gavin had determined her bedroom was his bedroom, and she was half afraid she would either run into him, or he would walk in on her, and he was the very last person she wanted to be alone with at the moment.

Mostly, it was because she felt humiliated. He had been so nice and considerate the night before. She had willingly climbed into bed next to him, lay there while he curled himself around her like a positively toasty coc.o.o.n. And he purred. He had actually purred, like a content cat. It was oddly endearing and strangely comforting, and Sydney had fallen into one of the best sleeps she'd had in a very long time.

She had even contemplated doing more than just sleep with him. The man positively radiated s.e.x, and he kept insisting they were mates, and Sydney could not deny the way her body felt whenever he was in her presence. Where was the harm in sleeping with him? Maybe, just maybe, they would enjoy themselves, and one time would turn into another time and another and maybe, eventually, she would find herself in love, and wouldn't that just be, well, wonderful?

Fat chance now, she thought gloomily. As much of a jerk he had been when he woke up this morning, Sydney had no intention of letting him back into her bed, even if it was just to sleep. Which she found terribly depressing. And then she got mad at herself for still wanting to sleep with him, even after the way he treated her.

”How is your steak, mi Chala?”

Sydney blinked and regarded the man seated across the table from her. Ignacio was tall, dark, and handsome, by any woman's standards, and his accent would no doubt make lesser women swoon. He was unfailingly polite, and she was confident every day would be Valentine's Day, if she chose to mate with him. When she agreed to this date, he had immediately left the house, and when he returned to sweep her off to dinner, he produced a box of chocolates, a bouquet of flowers, and an ornate gold brooch, all gifts for Sydney.

But her thoughts were on another s.h.i.+fter, and he was making it difficult for her to enjoy this evening out.

The sad fact was, she never would have agreed to this date if Gavin had his head on straight. If he would have acted half as nice this morning as he had the night before, when he had been under the influence of a fifth of Jack Daniels, Sydney would have happily booted every single one of her suitors and focused on attempting to grow a relations.h.i.+p with Gavin. It was his fault she was on this date, and it was his fault she wasn't enjoying it.

Mostly, it was his fault she wasn't enjoying it, because she could actually feel him. It was annoying, this strange connection between them. She would have thought her anger at his behavior this morning would have severed whatever mild connection they had been forming, but that was not the case. The connection had grown so strong, it felt as if he was in the restaurant with her. But he wasn't.

When the feeling first washed over her, she had immediately lifted her gaze and scanned the entire area. And when it did not go away, she excused herself to use the ladies' room, and then she made a circuit of the place, searching for him. If he was there, she intended to give him a serious piece of her mind. He had no claim on her. He had made that perfectly clear this morning.

”I'm not really a steak person,” Sydney admitted as she pushed the prime cut of beef around on her plate.

Ignacio had taken her to one of the best steakhouses in the state. They had a secluded table in the back, and no less than five servers fawned over them. When she took a sip of water, someone reached over her shoulder to refill the gla.s.s. Every time a course was removed, another person appeared to sc.r.a.pe the crumbs from the table. The manager hovered, introducing himself and informing them that he was at their service, should they need anything, anything at all. It should have been the best dining experience of her life.

”My Chala does not like steak?” Ignacio said, a little too loudly. He lifted a hand and beckoned a server, who immediately rushed to their table.

”No, Ignacio, it's fine. There's nothing wrong with-”

The server's appearance cut her off.

”Take this away. My Chala is not pleased.”

”Stop calling me that,” Sydney said through gritted teeth. The man was worse than Gavin.

Ignacio ignored her protest. ”It is not good enough. Nothing is good enough for my Chala.”

The server slid the plate away and stammered apologies.

”Ignacio, it was fine, really. I'm just not very-” She was interrupted again when the manager swooped down upon the table.

”Mr. Arroyo-Lopez, my sincerest apologies. I told the chef that cut was too well done. Should I bring another? What can I do to make this up to you?”

Sydney shook her head. ”I really don't want-”

Ignacio cut her off and nodded. ”Bring me another filet, with that crab bearnaise on top. Rare, this time.”

The manager apologized again and hurried off to do his bidding. Sydney stared at him. ”I don't like my steak rare.”

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