Page 18 of Christmas in Quincy (The Edens 0.50)

“Shh.” I patted his chest, working my way up until I felt the softness of his lips. Then I pressed in, sucking in some air as I sat sprawled across his lap.

My eyes, which had somehow stayed closed during the fiasco, cracked open. The dim light that peeked through the slit in the curtains might as well have been high-beam headlights for how they assaulted my irises and amplified the agony in my skull. It hurt so badly, my hands flew to my temples.

“Cleo—”

“Shh,” I hissed, louder this time.

On any normal day, I would have appreciated the fact that I was sitting on Austin’s lap. That I’d just touched his lips. I would have memorized the bulk of his thighs and the feel of his strong arms. But today, I was seconds from death, and survival was the only thing on my mind. I squirmed out of his hold, and rather than try to stand, I crawled to the bathroom.

Merry Christmas Eve, Cleo.

This was the most humiliating moment of my life and I didn’t have it in me to give two flying fucks.

When my palms hit the tile, I moaned as the cool marble calmed my too-hot skin. When my knees crossed the threshold, I gave up and curled into the fetal position, soaking in the chill.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh.” I winced and plugged my ears. How many times did a woman have to tell a man to shush before he listened?

“It’s four o’clock in the morning.”

Austin was scowling. I didn’t need to see it because I heard it in his voice.

“It’s three in California.” My throat burned as I spoke. Why was he even asking? Austin knew my schedule. I arrived at the bakery by five to prep before my drive-up window opened at six. And hangover be damned, my body’s alarm clock was blaring.

Okay. Off the floor.

I inhaled some oxygen, then uncurled, deciding maybe my stomach wasn’t as steady as I’d initially suspected. I managed to get myself up to a seat and leaned against the wall.

“Are you all right?”

“No.” I shook my head, then raised a hand to wave him off.

“Do you want me to shut the door?”

I nodded and pulled my legs into my chest, so they were out of his way. Then he eased it closed, leaving me in the pitch-black bathroom.

Beyond the door, Austin shuffled around the room and it sounded like he plopped down in bed. If it was only four, that meant he’d slept for a little over three hours.

On. The. Floor.

And he called me predictable.

I wasn’t sure where he’d disappeared to last night. After an hour of waiting for him to return from scoping out the place, I’d drifted off. But because I was a light sleeper, I’d awoken when he’d returned to the room after midnight. I hadn’t realized or noticed when he’d snatched a room key, but the click of the lock had startled me out of my drunken slumber. Austin had disappeared into the bathroom and I’d passed out before he’d emerged.

My mouth was dry. My body ached. I stifled a groan. What I needed was water, Advil, caffeine and calories—in that order.

The first two were easy enough to find in the bathroom, even with the lights off. After chugging three of the tiny room glasses and drowning just as many painkillers, I fumbled around until I located my toothbrush. Now all I had to do was find caffeine and calories.

With a fortifying breath, I tiptoed out of the bathroom. Austin was facedown on the bed, fully clothed and sleeping on top of the comforter. I silently walked to the drawers, sliding one open and taking out a bra, sweater and a pair of jeans.

“What are you doing?” Austin asked, not moving as he spoke.

“I need coffee.”

He grumbled something into his pillow, then pushed up from the mattress. “Give me a minute.”

“No!” Ouch. Too loud, Cleo. “Stay. Sleep.”