“Because I needed a week to cool down after you gave me the brush off? Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Whitehall. I can walk from here.” Liese grabbed the door handle.

  The automatic locks clicked into place. Ryder massaged his temples. “Just let me get you home, please,” he replied as he put the car in gear. “I don’t think I could live with myself if something happened to you because I let you walk home in the dark.”

  “It’s seven-thirty.”

  “It’s still dark.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “I’m certainly aware of that.”

  “Dickhead.”

  The rest of the drive passed in silence. Ryder turned onto her street, and the sky opened up, rain battering the windshield, making her driveway hard to see. Ryder parked as close as humanly possible to the front porch, and Liese fumbled with her seatbelt. Once she’d freed herself, she wrenched on the door handle, which didn’t budge.

  “Will you please just let me out?” she asked, her voice catching as she spoke. The combination of alcohol and Ryder’s disapproving silence had done nothing for her composure. Only her anger kept her from a complete meltdown.

  Ryder removed his keys from the ignition and stepped out into the downpour. By the time he’d rounded the vehicle and opened the passenger side door, he was soaked through, but he didn’t seem to care. Liese lurched out of her seat straight into his arms. Embarrassed, she tried to find her footing, but ended up with her face mashed into his chest. Within seconds, the rain soaked through her jacket to her skin.

  She pushed away from him, the physical contact too much to handle. She stumbled up the steps of the front porch and had to hold onto the doorjamb to keep from falling while she searched for her keys. Her vision blurred through a haze of unshed tears, and she realized her intoxication had increased significantly during the ride home. The world spun, and Liese worried she was dangerously close to blacking out, something that had only happened once before in her entire life—and that had been in college.

  She finally managed to locate her keys but dropped them on the mat. Ryder retrieved them and unlocked the door, ushering her inside. The hall light came on, and Liese cringed in the brightness. Ryder stood beneath the harsh glow, his face a mask of disappointment.

  “You can go now,” she said, tossing her purse on the side table. She missed, and it dropped to the floor, the contents spilling everywhere. “You’ve done your job.” Her hair, wet and windblown, hung in her face. She flicked it out of the way, another biting remark ready to fly until she made the fatal mistake of looking him directly in the eye. That was all it took for her emotions to get the better of her. She felt the tears before she could regain control.

  “Are you crying?” he asked, his eyes wide with panic. She wished men didn’t have that kind of reaction to tears; it only made things worse.

  “Just leave!” Liese swiped at the wetness.

  “You’re soaked and freezing, let me at least help you get dried off and warmed up.”

  He started to unzip her jacket, and she swatted his hand away, the sudden movement sending her off balance. “Are you fucking sssssserious?” she slurred. “You have to be out of your damn mind if you think for a second I want to fuck you right now!”

  “That’s not—I’m not trying to sleep with you.” Ryder raised his hands in supplication. “I didn’t mean . . . shit.”

  She wrestled her way out of her jacket, and it landed on the floor with a wet thud. “I don’t know what you want from me. I’m not going to say anything to anyone about what happened between us, okay? It’s humiliating enough that you know I’ve been fantasizing about you. I’m not about to share that information with my colleagues, so you don’t have to monitor me.” She refused to look at him again for fear it would incite a fresh round of tears.

  “Is that why you think I came to the bar? To monitor you?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Would you please look at me?” he asked.

  “Christ, even when it’s a question it sounds like an order with you,” Liese groused.

  “I said please.”

  She shifted her gaze from her feet to his face. He looked so remorseful—at least she thought he did. Her inebriated state left a lot open for interpretation. But the longer she stood there, the less opposed she became to the idea of having sex with him again.

  Ryder moved toward her, and she backed away. He started talking again, probably providing the explanation she’d been looking for, but Liese missed most of it, too focused on the way the room spun. She caught the last of his elucidation.

  “. . . You have every right to be upset with me.”

  Liese squinted, hoping to dispel the fuzzy edge around his form. It didn’t help.

  “I wanted a chance to redeem myself.” He continued as though she’d heard every word.

  “So you thought you’d hang with your subordinates?” Subordinates came out sounding surprisingly clear.

  “It wasn’t a well-thought-out plan,” Ryder admitted. “I want to fix this with you. I don’t know if I can, but I want to. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “You can’t stop thinking about me?” Liese parroted, testing the way it sounded. The impending hangover made their conversation difficult to process. She wobbled and used the wall to steady herself. It dawned on her that he wasn’t trying to take her clothes off. “Wait, does this mean you didn’t drive me home just so you could have sex with me again?”

  She suddenly found herself in his arms, not quite sure how she’d gotten there since she’d been leaning against the wall a second ago. She grabbed the lapels of his suit and noticed how wet it was. Water dripped down her hands when she squeezed the fabric.

  Ryder swept back the hair that had fallen in her face and slid his fingers through the wet strands, then cupped her head in his palm. Liese’s stomach clenched.

  His lips bypassed hers and caressed her cheek, stopping at her ear. “However appealing the idea of having you naked with me inside you might be, I’d rather you be sober for the experience.”

  Traitorous warmth spread through her limbs, but she had enough sense to come up with a snarky, albeit slurry, comeback. “Oh,” Liese breathed as she sagged against him. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I don’t want to fuck you right now, ’cause I don’t think I’m very sober.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s fortunate.”

  And then she passed out.

  On Saturday morning, Liese woke at a heinous hour with a hazy memory of the previous evening. She had no recollection of how she got home.

  The full force of her hangover hit when she sat up. She stumbled out of bed and into her bathroom. After a round with the porcelain throne, she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and rinsed with mouthwash for good measure. She pushed off the vanity, and the room spun wildly before it let her off the carousel ride. Getting her bearings, she braced herself on the wall, looking out the window. No car in the driveway. Flashes of Ryder standing on her front porch surfaced through the fog in her brain. Had he driven her home? That seemed unlikely. But if so, had she invited him in? And what exactly had she invited him to do?

  Vague images flitted through her mind, but she had no context as to whether they were real or dreamed. Unable to process anything further until she’d taken some Tylenol, Liese dragged herself to the kitchen, cracked open a bottle, and downed two pills with a huge glass of water. The clock on the stove read 5:25—way too early to be up on a Saturday morning.

  Not inspired enough to make it back to her bedroom, she passed out on the couch. Several hours later, the obnoxious ring of her cell phone roused her. The sound came from somewhere down the hall, but Liese couldn’t muster enough energy to get up and answer it. Whoever it was could leave a message. Thirty seconds later, her cell went off again. She groaned and rolled off the couch, landing in a heap on the floor. Using the coffee table to pull herself up, she moved toward the persistent ringing and found her phone on the entry table by the front door.

  Answering the call, she sagged against the wall. “Yeah?” It sounded like her vocal cords had gone a round with a cheese grater. She cleared her throat, but it didn’t help much.

  “Hello?”

  She should have hit the end button the moment she heard his voice, but her sluggish brain killed her ability to make speedy decisions.

  “Liese? Babydoll, is that you?”

  She exhaled on an obscenity. “Sean, why are you calling me?”

  “Didn’t you get my messages? You haven’t called me back.” His whine had the same effect on her as nails on a chalkboard.

  “I got them. I’ve been busy.” She considered adding “fucking my boss” to the end of that statement but decided against it.

  “You couldn’t even shoot me a text?” Whiny turned to angry in the flip of a switch, highlighting one of the many reasons Liese had dumped his sorry ass.

  “We’ve been broken up for almost four months, Sean. I didn’t think calling you back or texting you would be a good idea considering the number of times I’ve asked you to leave me alone.”

  “I’ve given you space. It’s been almost a month since I talked to you last.”

  “Only because I haven’t been responding to your messages,” she fired back, her irritation mounting until her hands shook with the effort not to throw her phone against the wall. “Why am I even bothering to justify this to you? I have to go.” Liese ended the call and almost screamed when it buzzed five seconds later—but her voice already sounded like she’d smoked a pack of cigarettes while yelling at the top of her lungs. She let it go to voicemail and deleted it straightaway. Sadly, she knew he would call or message her again.

  Picking herself up off the floor, she went back to the kitchen, in desperate need of some caffeine. Starting her day with a hangover and a call from Sean put her in a crusty mood. She tossed her phone on the table and went about setting up her coffeemaker, opting to make toast as well to help ease her raw stomach.

  Her cell rang four times between making coffee and waiting for the bread to toast. The pop of the toaster coincided with another call, and her cell vibrated again, moving across the table toward her like a stalker. She gave it the evil eye and snatched it up, answering without checking the number.

  “Why the hell won’t you just back off?”

  “Fine then, if you’re going to be a bitch—” Marissa’s voice came through the line.

  “Mar? Oh, God, sorry. Sean just called, and I hung up on him. I thought he was calling back.”

  “I have two words for you: restraining order. You need to get one stat.”

  “He’s calling my cell, not living outside my house in a tent serenading me every night,” Liese countered. It was hard not to agree, though.

  “He will be soon if he keeps this crap up. Honestly, you need to get rid of this loser. I can’t believe he’s still calling you, even after you freaked out on him over those Voodoo bears.”

  “Please don’t remind me.” The stuffed bears had been creepy, especially the one that looked like a bear version of Sean. The effort he’d gone to was astounding, as well as disturbing, as he’d recreated his own likeness and hers in stuffed-bear format. Liese had kept them in her closet for a week before discarding them in a dumpster. “Can we not do this right now? I have bigger problems,” she pleaded.

  “Bigger problems? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Things have gotten more complicated.” Liese poured a cup of coffee. “By the way, how are you finding time to call me? Don’t you have a huge project to finish this weekend?”

  “It’s done. Turns out three pots of dark roast and no sleep makes me ultra creative. I figured you might want to reconsider coming to visit me.” Marissa sounded hopeful. “Am I to assume the bigger problems include Ryder?”

  “Yup.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not one hundred-percent sure, but I got drunk last night, and he drove me home.” Liese rubbed her forehead, willing her memory to return.

  “Oh, God, like, puking drunk? Did you puke on him?”

  “No!” Liese exclaimed, then paused, not entirely sure. “At least I don’t think I did.”

  “Too bad. That would have been awesome.” Marissa lapsed into silence briefly before yelling, “Oh, shit! Did you fuck him again? You totally did.”

  “I did not. I’m not stupid.” Liese shifted on her chair. Nope. No tenderness, which meant there had been no sex. She definitely would have felt the aftermath, even if she didn’t remember the act.

  “I know that. However, people do stupid things when they’re drunk. I also know how long you’ve been flicking the bean over this guy. Anything can happen in a moment of weakness.”

  “Did you really just say flicking the bean?”

  “Don’t try to distract me with distractions.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” Liese tried not to laugh and failed.

  “So are you sober enough to get your ass to the city so I can see your face and make sure you’re not lying to me about riding Ryder again?”

  “Ha ha, you’re so witty,” Liese deadpanned. “I’ll pack a bag and be there in a few hours.”

  “Awesome. Can’t wait to see you!” Marissa’s excitement made Liese smile, despite feeling like absolute crap.

  “Me too.”

  Liese hung up and nursed her coffee on her way upstairs to get ready. After packing the essentials, she crawled into the shower to freshen up. Wrapped in a towel a few minutes later, she felt much less like yesterday’s garbage and more like a human being. She went to step over her clothes from the previous day, but they weren’t in their usual spot on the floor in front of her closet.

  More flashes of memory came back to her: her face buried in Ryder’s neck, the taste of his skin on her tongue, being laid out gently on her bed. It had to be a dream. But another image popped into her mind, this one clearer than the last. She’d started to undress. While Ryder was still there. Her clothes were folded neatly on her dresser, and there were no signs of hanky-panky, which meant only one thing: she’d propositioned him, and he’d rejected her.

  Liese checked herself over again, desperate to find some indication they’d been intimate, but nothing. Devastated for reasons she didn’t want to own, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door . . . only to find her car wasn’t in the driveway because it was still at the bar.

  Twenty minutes and a ten-dollar cab ride later, she tossed her bag in the trunk and headed for Marissa’s.

  By midafternoon she’d arrived at her old apartment to find Marissa waiting at the door with cocktail in hand. “So, tell me what happened with Ride-Me,” she said as she ushered Liese inside, evidently not interested in preliminaries such as “Hi” and “How are you?”

  “His name is Ryder.” Liese shot her an unimpressed look, and Marissa handed her a cocktail of her own. “Thanks for the drink.”

  “What are friends for if not to help your hangover by giving you another one? Now fill me in on the Ryder situation, and start from the beginning.”

  Liese followed Marissa to the modest living room, and they both dropped onto the couch. Liese adjusted the pillows and sank in, immediately comfortable. “I don’t know why I’m so worked up about this man.” That was a bald-faced lie; she knew exactly why. “First he propositioned me after he found the photoshopped pictures, then later that day we almost had sex in my office, except we were interrupted. That in itself should have been a sign. But he invited me to his house, and I was hormonal enough to go. Then he buttered me up by making dinner before getting down and dirty.” She flushed at the memory of how down and dirty things had gotten. “And as if that wasn’t enough, he coerced me into staying the night, and we had sex again the following morning. All of that would have been fine, except he didn’t talk to me for the rest of the week.” She paused, raising her finger to drive home the next point. “Then . . .” Liese waited for dramatic effect. “Oh my God, just when I think maybe I’m going to be able to get over it, do you know what he did?”

  Marissa shook her head, remaining silent while Liese continued her diatribe.

  “He called me into his office at the end of the day yesterday and told me he wanted to see me—after not speaking to me for four days. What the hell am I supposed to think?” Liese took a sip of her drink and coughed. Vodka. Nothing beat the hair of the dog.

  “That he’s a huge wang,” Marissa supplied sympathetically.

  “So I told him I had plans, because I did.” Liese shot up off the couch. Running her fingers through her hair, she began to pace. “I wasn’t going to cancel for him, even if the sex is out of this world. There’s just something about the way he words things, as if it’s a suggestion, but it’s not . . .” Liese trailed off, her fingers at her throat as memories of their night together came flooding back.

  “But that wasn’t the end of it. Do you want know what happened next?” Liese barreled on, the question rhetorical. “He showed up at the bar with the school’s other administrator, crashed our table, and I got so blitzed I couldn’t drive my own ass home.” Liese flailed her arms and circled the living room like a caged bird, unable to escape the rising fear that came with not remembering how she’d acted.

  “Which is when he swooped in and saved you by driving you home and trying to get into your pants again?”

  “No. Yes.” Liese shook her head vehemently. “I mean, yes, he drove me home, but no, he didn’t try to have sex with me. At least I don’t think he did. I have a feeling I may have propositioned him, but apparently I’m not all that fuckable when I’m wasted,” Liese replied.

  “Well, that’s one redeeming quality about him, isn’t it?”

  “How is that redeeming?”

  “Um, well, Liese, don’t you think it’s more respectable that he didn’t try to have sex with you when you were passed-out drunk?” Marissa asked. “Or would it have been better if you’d woken up sore with no recollection of how you got that way?”