I’m not in my bed.
I wake up and I’m not in my bed.
Fuck.
The last thing I remember is peeling out of the parking lot and heading to The Grizzly Bear, which is my favorite country bar. I was upset with Parker for turning down something as simple as post-work drinks. I only invited him for drinks. That’s it. Drinks.
I don’t remember anything after getting to the bar.
How much did I drink?
And whose bed am I in?
It’s a weird thought, that I’m in someone’s home and I have no recollection of getting there. I sit up, slowly. I still have all of my clothes on. Good. I didn’t get raped or murdered last night. As strange as it is, this is reassuring to me.
The room I’m in is bright and big. The back wall of the room, across from the bedroom door, is entirely windows and the curtains are all open, so the sun is shining in. The bed is huge and sits against the right side of the room. It’s a four-poster bed and it’s got curtains attached. I feel like a medieval princess. The opposite side of the room has a little sitting area with chairs and a fireplace.
I get up out of bed and immediately groan and sit back down. Hangover it is, then. I notice a bottle of water next to the bed and I grab it and chug it, then pick up the note next to the bottle.
Rose,
I’m sorry to leave before you wake up, but I need to get to the office. Take your time getting to work. Your car is outside and I had some clothes brought in for you.
See you at work,
Parker King
As I hold the note, I slowly begin to remember bits and pieces from the night before. They come to me like snapshots of memories I didn’t know I had.
Parker showing up to the bar.
Flash.
Getting in his car.
Flash.
Him carrying me to bed.
Flash.
His goodnight kiss on my forehead.
Flash.
I close my eyes and hold the note, trying to remember more. Did I say anything? Did I do anything? I know I didn’t throw myself at him and I know Parker didn’t take advantage of me. He’s not that kind of guy, and suddenly, I realize just how lucky I really am that he picked me up.
Other people would not be as kind or as respectful.
And I’m kind of stupid for drinking so much without a way to get home. The night could have ended so much worse than it did.
I grab my purse, which is also on the nightstand, and I pull out my phone.
Five missed calls from Stephanie.
I need to call her back, but I also need to pee. Despite the hangover, despite the nausea that’s definitely going to attack me as soon as I stand up, I decide to risk it.
I manage to get out of bed and head toward the bathroom. I call Stephanie back on my way across the bedroom.
“You bitch!” She says, but there’s no malice in her voice.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say.
“What happened last night? Tell me everything.”
“Um…did I text you?”
“No!” She says. “You butt-dialed me and when I called you back, Parker answered the phone.”
“Shit.”
“No, he was really sweet,” she insists. “He told me you were going to spend the night and he gave me his personal cell number in case I got worried about you.”
Of course he did.
Because he’s the perfect gentleman.
Unfortunately, I have a feeling my drunken behavior last night not only ruined my chances of seducing Parker, but could quite possibly impact my position at work. No, there was nothing in his note to indicate that he’s thinking of firing me, but let’s get serious: apparently, I’m untrustworthy.
“I don’t remember anything,” I admit, walking into the gorgeous bathroom. It’s got a tub and a walk-in shower and not one, not two, but three sinks.
And this is Parker’s guest room. It’s just one of many, I’m guessing, and suddenly, I hope I’m able to find my way out of his house and to the driveway. A girl could get lost in a place like this. Then again, I can’t say I would actually mind getting lost here.
“Apparently, you were upset and went drinking alone. He was worried, so he followed you, and then, according to him, did what ‘any man who isn’t a total piece of shit’ would do. He took you back to his place and sent you straight to bed. Alone.”
“Alone.”
“How are you feeling?” Stephanie’s voice softens. I can hear people in the background and I realize she’s already at work. I don’t even know what time it is.
“Hungover,” I admit. “I’m sorry if I’m bugging you at work.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “And Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t over-think this. You haven’t ruined your chances. In fact, I think Parker might be a little bit into you.”
“He didn’t even make a move last night.”
“Exactly. If he wasn’t interested in you as a person, or interested in a relationship, he would have taken advantage of you, and he didn’t.”
“He didn’t,” I repeat.
She’s right.
I don’t want to get my hopes up, but suddenly I wonder if Stephanie has been right all along. She’s always insisted that Parker and I were made for each other, but I always blew her off because, well, he’s Parker.
He’s my boss.
He’s fucking hot as hell and dirty and naughty and so far out of my league.
“Listen,” I say, not ready to admit my friend is right. “You haven’t seen the women he dates. They’re thin, like really thin. They’re all models.”
“And how many of them has he gone to rescue from a bar?”
I can’t answer that.
“And how many of them has he taken the time to put to bed alone?”
I press my lips together.
“And how many of them has he called their best friend to promise they’ll be all right?”
I don’t say anything.
“Rose, this guy cares more than you want to admit, honey, but I think he’s waiting for you to make the move. It’s all up to you now. The ball is in your court. What are you going to do with it?”
That’s the big question, isn’t it?
Am I going to pussy out again, the way I have with so many other things in my life?
Or am I going to fight for Parker King?