I get a lick on my face, as I almost always do when it’s time to get up in the morning. I open my eyes and sit up in bed. I feel like I was hit by a truck, and then that truck backed up and ran me over again.

How much did I drink last night?

I feel my stomach heaving, and I run, making it to the toilet just in time for the alcohol to all start coming back up. Apparently, I drank way too much.

I sit on the cold floor for a minute before I stand and clean my mouth out with water and brush my teeth. I vaguely remember the pain. I remember the tequila. And I remember Brody.

Ugh, why did he have to come back into my life?

He’s a giant dick, but he’s a dick that I want to ride. And, even though I can’t deal with him right now, he’s all I’m going to be able to think about until he leaves town. Maybe I can just fuck him once like he wants, and then he will leave.

I doubt it, but maybe the sex will suck, and I’ll realize that what we had in the Bahamas was just a fantasy that I played up in my head. It wasn’t real.

I take a deep breath and get a whiff of what smells like pancakes. Except it can’t be. I don’t live with anyone else. I must be dreaming.

I walk out into my living area, and the smell gets stronger. I’m greeted by my dogs and cats, which I give each of them some attention before rounding the corner and continuing into my kitchen.

My stomach flips at the sight of Brody cooking shirtless in my kitchen. Of course, he stayed. And of course, my body doesn’t understand that it shouldn’t get excited about backstabbers like Brody, no matter how hot they are.

“You know how to cook?” I ask, surprised.

He turns his head as he continues to stand in front of my stove. “I have many talents. Cooking isn’t one of them, but I can make a basic meal.”

I want to yell at him to get out, but I really want the pancakes. My stomach is aching for some carbs to soak up the alcohol still causing havoc in my stomach.

“Sit down,” he commands.

I walk over to my two-seater kitchen table and take a seat. I don’t have the strength to argue with him.

He brings me a large glass of water and Advil.

I take the water and drink until the glass is completely empty.

“I made you a Bloody Mary, too. Not sure if you want it though, but it might help to fight the hangover with a little more alcohol.”

I stare at the glass; there is no way I can drink it.

“Nope, I’m good,” I say, scrunching my nose up at the sight.

He grins, and my heart melts a little at the sight of his dimples.

“The pancakes should help,” he says, placing a large plate of pancakes drenched in syrup in front of me.

I dig in without a thank-you. He’s the reason I drank too much last night anyway. He provided the alcohol. He amplified my emotions by coming here.

He watches me as I eat while he does dishes at the sink. I continue to eat while discreetly looking around at my house. It’s clean. Like really, really clean. The dog and cat hair has been swept off the floor. The counters and end tables are dusted and clean. The clutter of mail I usually leave scattered on the counter is now sitting in an organized pile. The dog toys have been picked up and placed in a basket. And he’s not only washed the dishes he created but the dishes from yesterday as well.

I put my fork down as my stomach finally starts to feel better.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Dishes.”

“No, why did you clean up my house?”

“Because, despite what you think about me, I can be a nice guy if I want to.”

“No, you’re a dick. You would only ever be a nice guy in order to get something. What do you want?”

He tosses the dish towel he was using to dry the dishes down onto the counter next to the sink.

“I would think it’s obvious.” His eyes show a desire that takes over his entire body.

I roll my eyes, trying to act like I can easily just forget about him. That nothing he does affects me. Not his stare. Not his muscular body. Not his intense grin. Nothing can touch me.

But he knows my body too well. He knows it’s all a lie.

He pulls out the chair across from me and casually sits down, his legs spread and his body leaning back in the chair like he owns it.

Grumpy walks over to Brody and licks him on his arm. Brody gently pets his head.

I frown, staring at my dog that hates everybody. He hates Alicia and everyone else from work. He hates Gabe. He hates strangers. He won’t go near them, except to bark. Not Brody, though. Apparently, he’s decided, the one person he should hate the most, he actually likes. I’ll have to talk to Grumpy later.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says.

I take a bite of my pancake so that I can answer him with my mouth full. Maybe, if I’m as disgusting as possible, he won’t want anything to do with me. “Let’s hear it then.”

He watches my mouth as I talk, but it seems to just get him more excited.

“I want to continue our arrangement from before.”

“For how long?” I ask before I realize what I’m doing.

He grins and cocks his head from side to side, like this is way easier than he thought it was going to be.

I shouldn’t have given him any indication that I was interested in continuing our arrangement. I should have just said no right away. But my big mouth always seems to get me into trouble.

“You tell me. You owe me at least one more day, but I don’t think you want to stop at just one more day. I’m good with another day, a week, a year. What do you want, baby?”

I hate how he speaks like he already knows the answer to the question that he is asking. He thinks I’m going to say I want a year. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of being right.

“You think you can come here, clean up my house a bit, and make me breakfast, and then all is forgiven, huh?” I grin, taking another bite of my pancake.

“I didn’t think I needed forgiveness because you don’t give a shit about me.”

I narrow my eyes, glaring at him. “You’re right. I don’t. But I’ve had enough pricks in my life to know that the only thing to do with them is throw them out with the trash, not make arrangements that only benefit one side.”

I get up from the table and walk to my bedroom. I pull out a suitcase and start throwing clothes into it.

I continue to throw clothes into my suitcase, not bothering to look at what I’m throwing in until the suitcase is filled with clothes. I can’t think straight. All I can think about is that Brody wants to have sex with me again. And, despite the pain that it will likely cause me, I want to fuck him again, too. But I can’t. I walk a few feet to my small bathroom and grab my already-packed toiletry bag from my last trip to LA. I toss it into my suitcase. I have to sit on the suitcase to get it to close.

Then, I look into my closet and find a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I put them on and pull my hair up into a ponytail. I give myself a quick glance in the mirror and then grab my suitcase. I walk out of the bedroom, carrying my suitcase, hoping that Brody will get the hint and just leave me alone.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t look at him. If I look at him again, I’ll just start drooling over his shirtless, hard body. I’ll start remembering how good it felt to have his strong arms wrapped around me and how good it felt to lick every inch of his chest. I’ll start caving, and I can’t afford to cave.

“I have a flight to catch. Don’t worry about the animals. I have a babysitter coming in a few hours to watch them. But make sure you take the snake back to the clinic.”

I walk to the door and throw it open, pulling my suitcase out behind me. The door slams shut behind me. I don’t say good-bye to my animals, and I definitely don’t say good-bye to Brody. If I spend one more second in the house, I might stay instead of leaving.

I walk to my truck and throw the suitcase in the back. I start it up and drive off. Only when I’ve driven a few miles away do I allow myself to look into the rearview mirror. He’s not behind me as much as I wish on some level that he were. I could really use some distraction even if I can’t do his arrangement. It’s wrong in more ways than one.