by Lizzie Shane
Hangover with a side of inferno.
And deathly embarrassment.
She hauled the comforter up to her eyebrows, wondering how long she could pretend the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened. Though if she was erasing history, maybe she should go further back. About six months should do it.
No more Mister Perfect. No more public humiliation or setting her apartment on fire and making an idiot of herself in front of insanely hot fireman neighbors.
She lowered the comforter enough to peek at the clock on the bedside table. Ten sixteen. She had no idea when she’d finally gotten to sleep the night before, after the rest of the fire-fighters showed up and Mimi arrived to pick her up. She’d left her apartment in their hands, Will promising to lock the building’s exterior door, since hers no longer sat right on its hinges after he’d kicked it in to get to her.
She wasn’t worried about her stuff. It was Tuller Springs, after all, where crime was pretty much limited to the occasional act of vandalism or reckless endangerment by thrill-seeking snowboarders and no one was more than two degrees of separation away from anyone else.
Which didn’t explain how she’d never met Will.
She’d had no idea her downstairs neighbor was so hot. Tall and rippling with muscle, with dark brown hair a little on the long and shaggy side and the most soulful brown eyes she’d ever seen in her life, fringed by lush black lashes that any girl would kill for.
He must be taken. It was the only reason Mimi or one of her other friends wouldn’t have tried to set them up with one another. Not surprising. That body, those eyes, a core of heroism—guys like that were never single.
But there’d been a moment last night when she’d been so certain he was about to kiss her.
Probably her imagination. She’d never been very good at reading signals. Homeschooling and world concert tours hadn’t exactly done her any favors when it came to social interactions with the opposite sex. She’d been so relieved when everything was so natural and easy with Daniel.
Daniel.
Her stomach rolled nauseously.
And kept on rolling.
Caitlyn scrambled out of bed and bolted for the bathroom, making it there just in time to empty her stomach in a wrenching heave. She flushed and groaned, sagging to the floor beside the toilet in case her stomach decided it wasn’t done rejecting the vodka. “Never again,” she promised the sink.
“That’s what they all say.”
Caitlyn looked up, grimacing as the bathroom light hit her squarely in the eyes. It was tempting to tell Mimi to get lost and let her wallow in peace, but then the objects in Mimi’s hands registered – a jumbo bottle of aspirin and a glass of water.
“Bless you.”
Mimi handed over the goods and folded herself down onto the bathroom floor beside Caitlyn, in the narrow space between her feet and the vanity. Today her yoga pants were hot pink, the streak in her hair was electric blue, and layered tank tops of yellow and purple completed the color assault. “I believe this is what is known in the business as a cry for help.”
“What business is that?” Caitlyn rinsed with the water, downed the aspirin and let her head thunk against the wall—it was entirely too heavy for her neck right now.
“I think getting drunk and setting your own house on fire is a cry for help in pretty much every business ever invented,” Mimi said dryly.
“I didn’t set my house on fire. It was a tiny little electrical issue.”
“Of course it was. But to ease my mind, you won’t be watching any more episodes by yourself. Capisce?”
“Yes, Don Mimi.” She should get up. The last thing she needed was for Mimi’s two kids to see Auntie Caitlyn in a hangover sprawl on the bathroom floor. “How long do we have before Trent and Mia Grace come investigating?”
“I had Ty drop them off at Monica’s for a play date. Figured you could use the peace and quiet. I need to pick them up at noon, but until then I’m all yours.”
Caitlyn cringed. She knew Mimi valued kid-free time like manna from heaven and jealously guarded her play dates. “Sorry you had to use one for me.”
“Shut up,” Mimi said mildly, and when Caitlyn looked over there was a suspicious shine in Mimi’s eyes. “I wanted some girl time. And I’m worried about you. Since when do you drink alone? You barely have a glass of wine with dinner and suddenly you’re binge drinking like a rock star and burning down houses?”
“I didn’t try to burn my house down, Mimi. It really was electrical. And minor. The firefighter guys said it would have happened even if I’d been stone cold sober.”
“I’m a bad friend. Friends don’t let friends get drunk and watch their hearts get broken on national television alone. I should have been there.”
Caitlyn swallowed hard. She wanted so badly to tell Mimi everything. That it wasn’t a broken heart that was making her feel sick every time she thought of the show. That she was engaged to a man she was terrified she didn’t love—and that she was becoming more and more sure she didn’t even know who he really was beneath all the layers of reality-TV hype that had been piled on him. That she’d actually agreed to marry him on the reunion show and every time she thought of walking down the aisle with America watching she had to reach for her Tums. That she wanted nothing more than to run and hide until the show was all over—but she was terrified this was going to be her only chance at the life she wanted and the universe wouldn’t give her another if she wasted it.
“You aren’t a bad friend,” she whispered. If anyone in that bathroom was, it was her. With all her damn secrets.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Mimi. She did. She trusted her not to tell on purpose—but she knew her friend well enough to know sometimes things just popped out of her mouth when they weren’t supposed to. She’d get so caught up in a story she wouldn’t even remember that part of it wasn’t supposed to be told.
Five million dollars. The nondisclosure promised to sue her for five million if she let the truth slip. So she sat on the bathroom floor and hated herself for the lie of omission, but kept her mouth shut.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mimi asked hesitantly. “About watching the show last night?”
Caitlyn grimaced. What she wanted was to pretend it wasn’t happening. Cowardice, thy name is me. All she could think about was Daniel’s smile—which she’d never thought was smarmy and smug before last night. She’d freaking loved his dimples. Maybe that was the alcohol talking. Or her own doubts. Maybe she just needed to hear his voice on the phone and she’d forget all her fears.
Damn. She’d left the MMP cell phone at her apartment.
Though that was probably for the best. She hated that she’d become this girl—this needy creature who was desperate for a call from her fiancé. She didn’t want to be that girl. Maybe she should drop the phone down the garbage disposal.
“You looked gorgeous in that silver dress,” Mimi said hesitantly, when Caitlyn had been silent for too long. “He wasn’t lying when he said you looked like an angel.”
Angelic. Caitlyn cringed. She’d been so focused on making a good impression, she couldn’t even remember what she’d thought of her first glimpse of him.
Not like last night. The moment Will burst into her life felt like it was branded into her memory, never to be erased. It was probably the adrenaline from the fire that made him seem larger than life in her memory. A dark god come to save her. The adrenaline and the alcohol. He was probably just another guy. Normal. Average. Forgettable.
But she hadn’t been scared as soon as he appeared. And then, when he’d thrown her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing…
“Are you okay?” Mimi asked. “Your face is turning all red.”
Damn redhead complexion. She’d never been able to hide her feelings. “Do you remember the first time you met Ty? Like the very first second?”
“Not really. He was a friend of a friend and we were all just sort of hanging out. I remember he said something fun
ny, but I don’t think I even knew his name until my friend said he wanted to take me out. Not like the movies. Why?”
Caitlyn shook her head. “It’s weird. The show makes such a big deal of first impressions and tries to add romantic impact to all these moments, but I can’t remember a thing from meeting him. I must have thought he was handsome, because…” She waved a hand in a well, obviously gesture. “But I was so swallowed up in nerves, I probably wouldn’t have noticed even if my heart had skipped a beat and the world stood still.”
Mimi frowned. “So you were really into him? I saw your hair a few times in the preview footage for coming weeks and thought you might have gone pretty far since at least one of the locales looked tropical, but I wasn’t sure your heart was in it. But it was?”
Again, the truth burned on her tongue. The Rock of Ages was tucked in the bottom of the overnight bag she’d brought. She could just put it on and wag her hand in front of Mimi and she wouldn’t even have to say anything.
And then get sued for five million dollars when Mimi accidentally blabbed.
“He seemed really nice.” She carefully selected her words, trying for truth without giving anything away. “He always knew the right thing to say and I thought I might have really strong feelings for him—even when I left—but now when I watch it back, I don’t know what to think.”
“I sometimes wish I could watch pieces of my life over again without the perception filter of whatever I was feeling at the time,” Mimi said. “Maybe this’ll be, like, the best break-up therapy ever. Just no more watching by yourself.”
“I repeat: the fire was not my fault.”
“Hey, no need to get testy. I believe you. But just in case we should probably head over to your place and make sure the arson investigator isn’t going to press charges.”
She’d been feeling much better—the aspirin had kicked in and her brain was no longer trying to escape her skull through brute force—but at the mention of arson charges, her stomach did another backflip and probably would have hurled its contents toward her throat if there had been anything left to hurl.
She needed a T-Shirt.
I went on a reality TV show and all I got was this lousy prison sentence for arson.
And a fiancé she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore.
Some years needed a reset button. And this one had just started.
Chapter Ten
From the outside, the chalet looked perfectly normal. The fire hadn’t made it all the way through the exterior wall, so when they pulled up in Mimi’s Mini Cooper, Caitlyn had a moment of idiotic hope that maybe the entirety of last night had been an alcohol fueled hallucination.
But inside, reality intruded. The door to her apartment was lying on its side on the landing with a note taped to it. Caitlyn plucked up the note and trailed Mimi into the apartment, nearly knocking her friend over when Mimi stopped suddenly, gaping at the damage.
“You said it was a little fire.”
“It was.”
But that little fire had blackened a ten square foot patch of the wall behind the potbelly stove, leaving the drywall hanging off the charred studs in ashy fragments. The white foam from the fire extinguisher had not miraculously evaporated, though someone had used a dingy grey beach towel to mop up the worst of it, the towel itself now spread on the floor near where she had fallen the night before. There was a smoky scent in the air, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as she’d expected it to be.
All in all, it wasn’t so bad. Better than she’d hoped for, actually.
But Mimi hadn’t come inside last night when she’d picked her up. She hadn’t known what to expect. Her friend took in the damage, pivoted, and wrapped her arms around Caitlyn, squeezing tight. “You suck. But for some reason I like you, so don’t get hurt, okay?” she muttered against her shoulder.
“Likewise,” Caitlyn said, squeezing back and gazing at the charred patch of wall over Mimi’s shoulder.
Thanks to the windows, the room was still bright, even without power, but it was eerily silent without the subtle hums of the appliances in the kitchen.
“You want lunch? Everything we don’t eat today is going to go bad if the electricity stays off for long.”
Mimi nodded, shoving away and swiping at her eyes before squaring her shoulders to tackle the task at hand. “I’ll make us a feast. Then we’ll clean up.”
While Mimi went to investigate feast options, Caitlyn unfolded the note, tamping down the little shiver of excitement at the thought of who it was from.
She should not be excited about reading words Will had written. He was taken and she was engaged.
But that didn’t stop her from smiling when she saw his oddly formal salutation, Dear Ms. Gregg.
She should not be charmed. But lately she wasn’t doing so well at obeying the shoulds.
I spoke with the arson investigator and the electrical short was definitely the culprit. I also spoke with the landlord and as soon as the investigator’s official report is in, he’ll file the insurance claim and we can get started on the repairs. I have a brother-in-law who is a contractor, if you’d like me to get him out here to put in a bid for the wall. I know he’ll give a fair price. I’ll repair your door since that one was on me. The electrician said he would be by at two o’clock to check out the rest of the wiring in the house so we can find out if it’s safe to turn the power back on. I have a class to teach, but I should be back by two to meet him, if you can’t be here then. Take care.
P.S. Your smoke detector battery was dead. I’ve replaced it.
Somehow Caitlyn resisted the urge to press the paper to her chest like a Victorian maiden. She’d begun grinning at “culprit” and by the time he mentioned the smoke detector, her knees were downright wobbly. He’d thought of everything, taken care of everything. Not only had he saved her life—he’d saved her half a dozen awkward or time consuming conversations.
She’d been dreading contacting the landlord and letting him know she’d burned a hole in his wall. Done.
She hadn’t had the first idea who to contact about repairs or checking the wiring. Done and done.
He was her one man fix-it team. She’d never be able to repay him.
And damn if the way he swept in and took care of her wasn’t sexy as hell.
Would Daniel have stepped up in such a manly way?
Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind came the guilt chaser. The niggling sense that she was betraying Daniel by doubting he would be as magnificent as Will had been. It wasn’t fair of her to compare them. Her fiancé was hundreds of miles away, oblivious to any troubles she might be facing. He deserved better than to be judged and found lacking in absentia.
Will was taken and so was she—by a man who always did the right thing and would probably have been her knight in shining armor himself, given the chance—so she mentally smacked the stars from her eyes, folded the note and tucked it into her pocket, striding over to the kitchen area to see what Mimi had found in her rapidly warming fridge.
After a quick hodge-podge lunch and a dozen reassurances that she would be fine on her own, she shooed Mimi off to pick up her kids. As soon as the door closed behind her friend, Caitlyn made a beeline for the loft and the MMP cell phone she vaguely remembered dropping on her bed while she was packing her overnight bag.
Ever since she realized she’d left it behind, she’d been haunted by visions of the phone ringing while the firefighters or the fire investigators were in her apartment and one of the guys answering it—just to be neighborly, just to tell the caller that she wasn’t available and take a message—but if it was Daniel and he gave away his identity before he realized who he was talking to…
Hello, Five Million Dollar Lawsuit.
It had been agony, waiting for Mimi to leave, but if it had happened, the damage was already done. She rapidly scrolled through the call log. One missed call from Daniel. No message. And a text from Miranda. What looked like the ingredients to a hangover cure.
No sign of anything that would put her in debt to the network for the rest of her life.
And no indication that anyone in the Marrying Mister Perfect family knew she’d had a minor incendiary incident last night. A ten pound weight seemed to float off her chest.
Until she felt that weight lifting, she hadn’t realized how certain she’d been that they would know somehow. For months they had known every little movement of her life. The idea that something so dramatic could happen and it would be no one’s business but her own... it was beyond liberating.
But the wild, heady sense of freedom didn’t last.
She would have to tell them. It was one call Will couldn’t make for her. Better she let Miranda know what had happened and let the PR people spin it than to have it come out on TMZ. Though maybe it wouldn’t. She was just one of many Suitorettes right now, no reason she should be stalked like a celebrity.
“Ms. Gregg?”
The voice floated up to the loft from her open doorway and Caitlyn felt a giddy rush that she told herself was just a result of the timely distraction. She stepped to the loft railing, pressing her stomach against it. “You can call me Caitlyn, you know. After carrying me out of a burning building over your shoulder, I think we can dispense with formality.”
Will looked up at her first word, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Hey.”
Caitlyn’s brain short circuited as her hormones threw a party. Yep, not a hallucination, they declared. He’s just as hot as we remembered. Messy brown hair, luscious black lashes, and the eyes a girl could fall into for days.
“Hi.”
Oh, brilliant, Caitlyn. Dazzle him with your witty repartee.
“I, uh…” She wet her lips, trying to restart her brain. “Thank you. For everything. You’ve been amazing.”
His grin widened. “I never argue when a pretty girl tells me I’m amazing.”
A blush burned her cheeks. She pushed away from the railing and scrambled down the stairs from the loft with more speed than grace. “I can’t thank you enough—”
