There was a ringing in my head that would not stop. I start smacking the clock next to my bed, but the ringing keeps going. I must have finally hit the damn thing because eventually it did stop. I roll over in bed and remember I was in a cheap hotel room in bumblefuck Tennessee. The incessant ringing sound begins again and I realize it’s the phone.

I pick it up and don’t even say a word before my mother starts talking, “Sweetheart are you alright? I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour and the woman at the front desk of the hotel said she could only transfer my call to your room. I thought you may have died or something so I wanted her to check on you but she wouldn’t. I think you should speak to the manager there or maybe I’ll call them. That is not the kind of service you should expect in a nice hotel. Speaking of, I never even heard of the hotel chain. Where are you? Atlanta? Or did you stop in Nash—”

“Mom, please stop. I already have a headache and you are just making it worse,” I groan. I should have just unplugged the phone from the wall.

“Why do you have a headache? I hope you were not out drinking last night. You have been doing that far too much lately and it will not help your already diminishing reputation. Also, you have to drive today, and I do not want you to get into an accident. You need to be more responsible.”

I swear my mother could make a brick wall want to commit suicide. “Mom, I am not driving anywhere today or the next two days for that matter. My—”

“What’s wrong? Did you get into an accident? Are you alright? Maybe your father and I should fly home and –”

“Mom –”

“Or maybe you could call –”

“Mom –”

“I need to know everything th—”

“MOM! Stop, please I am alright. My car broke down. That’s all. I am in a small town and I just need to get my car fixed, but the owner won’t be back until Wednesday. And fly home? Where are you? I thought you were at home.”

“Oh sweetheart, I forgot to tell you. Your father and I decided we needed some time away from our busy lives.” I hold back a snort knowing her busy life consisted of squeezing in a manicure between shopping and lunch dates. “We are in Thailand and it is so beautiful. I actually just got back from the spa –“

“THAILAND!” I yell into the phone. “You cannot be in Thailand. My car broke down and I don’t have money to fix it.”

I hear my mother sigh into the phone, “Well I do not know what you want from us. You got yourself into this mess, you need to get yourself out.”

“I did not intend for my car to break down in the middle of nowhere Tennessee. And you know I have little money from the divo—”

“I wasn’t talking about your car. Your divorce is a mess that never should have happened.”

My face starts to turn red in anger. This was not how I wanted to start my morning. The hangover was one thing, but my mother’s idiocy was a whole other problem I could not handle. “I am not getting into this with you, Mother. But like I said before the divorce was not my fault.”

“Well, you could have dealt with your husband’s indiscretions in a better way. Everyone else does. I don’t see your friends getting divorces like you did.”

“Forget it, Mom. I am not talking about this with you right now. I need some Advil and a large cup of coffee. Not a lesson on dealing with cheating scumbags.”

“Your husband is not a scumbag. He is a respectable businessman.” This lecture was getting out of hand and I wished I could have thrown the phone across the room, but that was an incidental I couldn’t afford. “If you are stuck in a town because of your car maybe you should stay there and get a job. Oh! It would be like a new adventure!”

I was over this conversation. “Fine, Mom. I don’t need your help I’ll get through this just like I get through everything else.”

“Good for you sweetheart.”

What I didn’t tell her was I was going to get through it the same way I got through it last night. Lots of whiskey. Before I let her speak another word, I tell her to send me a postcard and slam the phone on the receiver. Lucky me, the receiver cracked. I roll over and scream into the pillow. And then I do just what I told myself I would do. I take two Advil, slam a glass of water, put on pants and walk straight back to the bar, my new favorite place.

The bar was surprisingly empty, I thought, until I look at my watch and see it was two-thirty in the afternoon. I really was lowering my standards by the day. I slide into a seat at the end of the bar, opposite from what I could only assume were the town drunks. The bartender walks over to me, I vaguely remembered him from the night before and order a beer and a double shot of whiskey. He grunts and walks away to fill my drink. When he came back, he slams my beer down on the bar, sloshing the glorious hangover cure all over and reluctantly pours my whiskey.

“Would you like me to add this to your running tab here, sweetheart?” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Tab?” I asked. Please do not tell me I was so drunk last night I didn’t pay my tab.

“I’ll wait ‘til Trace gets here to discuss that with you. In the meantime, I’ll just add to it.” Before I could ask him who the hell Trace was, he turns and stalks toward the coolers to continue stocking bottles.

Seven beers later I was finally feeling like myself again. Not the girl who lost everything and wanted to cower in a hole but the woman from before. The social butterfly sans hangover. People are slowly starting to flood the bar and a band is setting up in the corner. I look at my watch again, surprised to see it is past eight o’clock, or at least it looks like it is past eight, my vision is starting to blur a bit.

It is at that moment a gloriously beautiful hunk of a man walks over to me. I cannot take my eyes off him. He is muscular all over, his chest looks like it is made of armor, grown out blonde locks hang just off his forehead. He is tall and tan and has burning sapphire eyes that freeze me in place, literally, my shot glass is stuck at my lips. Before I can even sip that sweet whiskey nectar, the jerk ripped it from my hand and set it on the bar. “I think you’ve had enough of these for today Harper.”

I stare in shock. How does he know my name? Did I meet him last night? I think I would remember a Greek god talking to me last night. He tears his eyes from mine and calls over to the bartender, “Jack, please get Harper here a water and put in an order for a burger, a big one. She needs to eat. Then, we will talk about over-serving our guests.”

Jack looks at me and then the god of the south and then back at me then mumbles something that sounds like fucking hell and runs off toward the kitchen. I curl my hands into fists suddenly nervous around this man, who must be the owner or manager of this place. A sharp pang of guilt and embarrassment starts eating at my stomach over whatever it was I did last night that put me on a first name basis with the owner.

“I take it you don’t remember me by the look on your face.”

I try to shake off whatever “look” is on my face, but he starts talking again. “I’m Trace. I own this place. I met you last night at closing.” The look of confusion on my face forces him to continue. “I take it you don’t remember.”

I try to play it cool. Well, as cool as someone on the verge of being shitfaced again would play it. “I-ugh, no-I totally remember…”

“Well, you were shitfaced last night. Fell off your bar stool twice.” I palm my face with my hands and lean on to the bar. “Hey,” Trace says gently placing a hand on my shoulder, “it happens to the best of us. If it makes you feel better, one of those times is because some douche from the next town over tried to touch you and you leaned back and fell right off. Easiest way to get that creep off your back I suppose.”

I try to put my face as deep into my hands as I can to hide the embarrassment that is spreading onto my cheeks. “And the other time?” I dare to ask.

Trace just chuckles as he says, “That was when you tried to leave. Said you had to get home to your pupples and fell right off your stool as you stood. That was when I gave you the courtesy of walking you back across the street to your hotel room and making sure you made it into bed okay.”

“I am so sorry,” I squeak. “I really should not have drunk so much. I have just had a very bad couple weeks and then yesterday was the cherry on top.”

A deep laugh erupts from him. “Oh, I know. You told me all about it on our short walk back to the hotel.”

I slam my head into the bar, shaking it with distaste. “God, I am such an embarrassment to myself and you.” Lifting my head, I remember about the tab Jack had talked about earlier. “Jack mentioned a tab, how much do I owe you for this mess?”

Jack comes over with two big glasses of water and a gigantic burger with a colossal plate of fries on the side and sets them down in front of me. Trace shakes his head. “How about you eat all that food, drink the water, then go home and sleep it off and we’ll call it even.”

I hate to admit it, but that pile of food looks mouthwatering. When was the last time I ate a real meal that wasn’t a gas station snack and coffee? “I’ll throw in forty dollars too.”

“Make it twenty. Drinks are cheap here.” With that, he pats me on the shoulder and walks off behind the bar. I eat the burger, which turns out to be delicious, and every last one of those fries like I would never have a meal again. I drop forty dollars on the bar and head back to the hotel, thinking I would have everything figured out tomorrow.

Boy, was I wrong.