For a moment, I couldn’t feel anything except confusion. This wasn’t Clint’s parents’ house, that was for sure, but how was that possible? I hadn’t been inside a single home except theirs in over a week.
What the hell happened last night? I remembered the club. Those super-hot strippers. And a whole lot of drinks.
Oh.
The drinks must’ve been what happened. I normally wasn’t much of a drinker, but how often do you get unengaged at your own bachelorette party?
Gingerly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, trying to concentrate. How had I gotten here last night? The last thing I could recall was the writhing bodies of those two sinfully hot men. What were their names? Houston and something? No, Boston and something.
Except that wasn’t right, either.
As I tried to get my brain into gear, I ran my hand absently down my bare thigh. Wait, why was it bare? I yelped as I looked down, seeing only my black lace bra and panties. Where the hell had my dress gone?
I scooted to the edge of the bed, scanning the room as I tried to muster the strength—and balance—to stand. It was a nice room, actually. Nicer than the guest bedroom at Clint’s parents’ house. The walls were a light gray and they were lined with bookshelves. There was a desk by the window.
Good, maybe I could figure out where I was. Carefully, I stood, making my way over to the window, walking like a ninety-year-old. It didn’t even occur to me to wonder whose room this was until I spotted my small purse on the desk and then noticed the framed photo next to it. It was of two tanned, smiling, good-looking men. They looked familiar, but it took me a moment to place them.
The strippers!
My heart thumped erratically as I tried to make sense of it all. The headache didn’t help. I must be at one of their homes, but why? Had I… had I gone home with one of them? Like… to sleep with? After all, I’d woken up without my dress on.
But no, I wouldn’t have done that. Even after all those drinks. The only man I’d ever slept with was my fiancé. Ex-fiancé, I meant. There’s no way I would’ve gone home with a stranger.
Besides, those guys were hot as hell. Like movie-star gorgeous. There was no way either one of them would’ve picked me from the crowd of screaming women last night. There had to be another explanation.
If only my brain would start working.
Cautiously, I moved to the door, listening intently. The last thing I wanted to do was to make noise and have someone burst in on me while I was practically naked. Pressing my ear to the door, I listened but didn’t hear anything. Maybe no one else was awake? I still had no idea what time it was, but I didn’t want to reach for my phone just yet. The last time I’d looked at my phone, it hadn’t exactly been good news.
Helplessly, I turned in a slow circle. I didn’t have the slightest clue what to do next, and my brain was in no hurry to kick in.
Then I spotted a pile of clothes on top of a shelf near the door. Gratefully, I picked them up. There was a white V-neck t-shirt and gray sweatpants. They were obviously men’s, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stand to be in my underwear in a stranger’s house for one second longer, and there was still no sign of my dress. I shuddered… maybe it was in as bad of shape as I was.
A crisp, clean scent surrounded me as I pulled on the clothes. It smelled like pine or evergreen or something. Once the shirt was on, I grabbed the front and lifted it to my nose. It was a calming aroma, one that somehow made my jumpy stomach still.
It was better being dressed, but I still didn’t know what the hell to do. I drifted to the window, which had a view of a large tree and a small backyard. It didn’t provide any hint of where I was.
Even if I knew where I was, what would that help? I had nowhere to go. All my stuff was at Clint’s parents’ house. No way was I going back there—you couldn’t pay me enough. I’d moved out here to be with him and he dumped me. For his model-perfect high school girlfriend! I couldn’t bear to face him after that. He was the only man who’d ever said he loved me. Hell, he might have been the only person who’d ever said that to me. Certainly my grandmother who’d raised me didn’t say things like that.
As I absently paced the small room, the truth of my situation sank in. I had no job. No place to live. No reason to be in Riverside now that I wasn’t with him. Should I move back to Pennsylvania? Try to get my old job back? It wasn’t a welcome thought. Whatever happened, I wouldn’t live with my grandmother again. That place had never felt like home, and I hadn’t been back for any longer than an afternoon since I started college.