The pounding createda level of pain Chloe had never even dreamed about. Why would her dreams cause her pain? She eased an eyelid up and the blinding light from the window stabbed her brain.
She rolled over and discovered there was nowhere to move because she was on her couch. Her stomach flipped and her brain revolted against the movement. “Oh, God.”
Then the pounding happened again and she realized it wasn’t in her head.
“Chloe. Open up.”
She drew in as much air as she could and held it as she levered herself off the cushion. She stumbled to the door, carefully released the breath as she moved. She could handle her liquor. She would not throw up.
As she grabbed the doorknob, a sticky note stared at her. Don’t hate me. You said you wanted to forget, but you might want to call the brooding hulk that showed up last night. – J
Another quick rap on the door. Chloe clenched her jaw and swung the door open, but even that little movement took all her energy and she leaned on the slab of wood.
Brendan stood on the other side. He took one look at her and cringed.
“Thanks.” She turned to go curl back into a ball. “What’re you doing here?”
“You told me to stop by and tell you how to install the bug at Cahill’s table.”
Parts of her night flooded back. Yeah, that conversation was why her ass was sore right now. She rubbed her right ass cheek and collapsed on the couch.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded slowly.
“Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll make some coffee?”
The thought of anything going down her throat threatened to make her puke. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. And you stink like a barroom floor.”
She sniffed. Her eyes rolled shut.
“Come on.” He held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve got the best hangover fix.”
“I’m not hungover. I can handle a few drinks.”
“Sure you can. Go wash off the stink.”
“Whatever.” But she shuffled to the bathroom. A shower couldn’t hurt. Brushing her teeth. That needed to happen first. The inside of her mouth felt like a carpet. An old seventies shag carpet. She leaned heavily on the sink and managed to brush her teeth with only gagging twice. Then she stood under the hot spray of the shower. Her head went from a full thump to a nagging throb. Good enough.
Now she could try to piece together the last part of her night. After pulling on a pair of shorts and a nightshirt—because she sure as hell was going back to sleep after Brendan left—she went to the kitchen where he had a cup of coffee poured and a breakfast sandwich made. Like made—not bought.
She took a bite. It was the exact right amount of greasy and filling. After she swallowed, she moaned.
Brendan leaned against her counter and sipped coffee with a wicked grin on his face. She wondered if he knew how much he and Ronan looked like each other when he did that. “How are you not married yet?”
“Haven’t found the one. Why aren’t you?”
She sighed and sank to a chair. “I’m not the right type for marrying.”
He laughed. “You’re definitely the marrying type. Maybe you’re shopping in the wrong stores.”
Her head hurt too much to try to analyze metaphors. “Why are you here again?”
“To give you this.” He pulled a small box from his pocket and lifted the lid. A small black button sat inside. “Take this and stick it to the underside of the table.”
She made a face at that. Tables could be gross.
“Unless Alan always sits in the same spot and there happens to be a plant or something next to him. It has to be in a position to pick up his conversation without being drowned out by other customers.”
She took another bite of the heavenly sandwich and closed her eyes. There was a pillar behind where Danny usually sat. But nothing next to Alan’s seat. And they always sat in the same places. “I think it’s going to have to be under the table.” She chewed thoughtfully. “Or, I can add new centerpieces and tuck it in there.”