Deliciously Damaged (Reckless Bastards MC 3)

“Then we can talk about what’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he laughed again. “Then we can talk about what’s wrong with me.”

It took a good minute to haul myself up off the floor but I managed to without breaking anything. I scooped the phone up and carried it with me as I checked the front door. “It’s locked,” I reported.

“Good. Now tell me, what’s wrong with me?”

“You won’t get out of my head.”

“I’m sorry about that. In all fairness, you won’t get out of mine, either.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. My energy was depleting rapidly and the last thing I remember was collapsing onto the couch.

Chapter Two

I opened my eyes and quickly snapped them shut again against the harsh light glaring into the room.

“Where the hell am I?” I wondered aloud, wincing against the volume of my own voice, even though I’m pretty sure it was only a groggy whisper. I placed my hand on my forehead and massaged my temples with my thumb and middle finger. As I massaged, my brain struggled to kick into gear, but after a few moments, little glimpses of the night before starting floating in my memory.

Drinks with Hannah…dancing with a random dude…Jett? Jeff?...Hannah leaving with random hot guy…wait…wasn’t that the guy I was dancing with?...Weird…Marx showing up…Tank taking care of me…talking to Cooper…

Cooper!

My eyes flew open again and I quickly moved to cover them with my hand, shielding against the light coming in from the window. I realized I was lying on my couch, in the living room of my apartment. Alone. I patted myself down. Fully clothed. Okay…so that’s all good.

But shit…I started to remember bits of conversation—hating myself a little more with each embarrassing detail of my late night drunk dial.

Eventually, my eyes adjusted to the light, at least as well as they were going to with the raging headache pounding the inside of my skull. I grabbed my phone off the floor and stumbled into my bedroom, blessing the darkness, and eased my way into bed, careful not to move too fast. I lay down next to Sam and stroked his fur, letting the motion soothe me back to sleep.

A few hours later, I awoke to the sound of my doorbell chiming.

“Balls,” I groaned. I covered my face in the safety of a pillow and waited for whatever vacuum cleaner salesperson, “tell-you-about-Jesus” fanatic, or cookie-peddling Girl Scout to give it up as a lost cause, vacate my welcome mat and let me go back to wallowing in my stupor in blissful silence.

The ringing continued.

My eyes darted to the clock on my nightstand: 6:58.

It was a little late for salespeople or Bible thumpers to be out. Maybe it was cookies. Come to think of it…cookies could really hit the spot right now. I heaved my stiff body out of bed and shuffled to the door. I couldn’t believe I’d slept all day. And damn I was thirsty!

I knew I looked like hell. My haggard appearance might be enough to scare the Girl Scouts away, but maybe they’d chuck a box of cookies at me as they made their escape.

I opened the door, not thinking to check the peephole first, and gasped when I found Cooper standing on my stoop.

“Well, fuck,” I finally said.

“Is that a greeting or an invitation?” he asked, flashing me his wolfish smile.

I started to shut the door on him.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry. Come on, don’t be like that. I brought you a present,” he said, stepping forward to block me from completely closing the door in his face.

I looked down and saw the large, handled paper bag he had in his hand. I stepped back and waved him in, too shocked to fully register what I was doing.

“Cooper, what are you doing here? Come to think of it, how did you even know where I was?” I asked as I watched him cross into the kitchen and casually start unloading groceries, as if he had been here a million times before.

“You told me last night, remember?”

“Barely,” I mumbled.