Searching for Harmony: A Boston Love Novel (22 page)

My head is pounding like someone took a jackhammer to it. I haven’t had a hangover like this in years, not since college, but my buddy’s family knows how to throw an after-party like no other.

Tequila had been the drink of choice. Pretty sure his mom drank me under the table. In any case, I ended up flying to Tijuana with half the bridal party and all of the Castillos.

Forcing my eyes open wide, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and check behind me to make sure I’m alone. There’s no one with me, not even an indentation in the pillow. The bedcovers are reasonably rearranged. No condom wrappers on the floor and the morning wood I’m sporting is barely a semi.

Pushing out of bed, I go in search of coffee and pain reliever. Ms. Castillo let the entire wedding party stay at her house, which turns out to be a huge hacienda on the outskirts of the city. I can’t remember what her family is into, but based on what I’ve seen so far, it’s very lucrative.

Yawning, I scratch my chest and go through another door, which leads me straight into the kitchen. The smell of coffee fills the air and I want to kiss the pot brewing near the stove.

There’s a woman sitting at the table. From my vantage point, I can see legs, an oversized shirt…and chocolate brown hair pulled into a messy bun, like she spent the night in someone’s bed.

The lucky bastard.

Not a bad view at all.

“Good morning.” I step past her, heading straight to the coffee. “Do I have you to thank for making this?”

“No.” Her voice sounds vaguely familiar to me. “It was already brewing when I got here.”

Grabbing the pot of coffee and a mug, I lean against the counter and pour a cup so that I can get a good look at her. A flash of pink catches my eye first. She’s wearing flowers in her hair. Her chin tips up slightly, revealing a full, pink mouth, high cheekbones, and glasses that frame a pair of dark brown eyes.

I’ve always been a sucker for brown eyes. One of the bridesmaids at the wedding had eyes like that, glasses too.

“I know you.” I snap my fingers. “You’re the naughty bridesmaid, Sammy.”

“It’s Saylor.” Her head tilts to one side, then she pushes those sexy-as-fuck black glasses back up on her nose. “Saylor Dean.”

“Got it.” I grin sheepishly at her. “Sorry, I’m not my usual self.”

Her lashes flicker down, then back up. “You don’t seem any different to me.”

I frown. “Is that an insult?”

“Do you think how you normally act is offensive?” She sips daintily from her mug.

“Depends on who you ask. Need a refill?”

She shakes her head. “Not drinking.”

I look pointedly at her cup. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.” This she says right before taking another sip.

Maybe she’s just as hungover as am I? “Mind if I join you?” I flash her the infamous Walker smile, the same one my dad, the senator from the great state of North Carolina, uses in every commercial and on every campaign stop.

Unfortunately, I’ve inherited that smile.

Fortunately, it works about ninety five percent of the time. Then again, I’m not using my charms to get votes; I using it to convince a sexy woman to let me sit with her.

“Why would I mind?” she asks.

“I was being polite.”

Her dark gaze runs over me and my cock stirs. “No you weren’t.”

Something tingles at the back of my brain, but I ignore it. It’s not like I have Spidey-sense. “What was I being then?”

“Flirtatious.”

“You got me there.”

A small smile ghosts her lips. “You’re also nude.”

“What?” I look down and cover my junk, almost burning myself in the process. Shit. That’s all I need, to be labeled a perv in the press. My dad would love that and while I normally enjoy yanking his chain, this is not what I want to be known for. I’m a fire captain, for fuck’s sake, and want to be taken seriously. Hard enough as it is when you’re the guy with who not only has a silver spoon, but the entire silver set.

“I’m so sorry. I had a one-track mind this morning.”

“You really did, but…not with me.” She stands up, then places her mug in the sink. “Nice seeing all of you again.”

“You too, Saylor.”

I watch her walk away, the hem of the shirt she’s wearing barely concealing her plump ass. Giving her a head start, I wait until I can’t see her anymore until I sneak back to my room. At least Saylor didn’t have a phone with her, so I don’t have to worry about dick shots on the Internet.

Forget my father—that would embarrass my mother so horribly that I wouldn’t be able to ever look her in the eye again. Yeah, I’ll admit it. My mother is my weak spot. She’s as kind as my father is crafty. To this day, I don’t know what she sees in him, but I do know they fell in love when they were practically kids.

And I can admit my dad’s not a total prick. He’s faithful to my mom and there’s never been a scandal about him and young interns.

But he can’t wrap his head around why I don’t want to be in the business with him. Why I have no desire to continue to rub noses with the Who’s Who of American politics and world leaders.

Frankly, I can’t stand the pretentiousness of it all. The posturing, the quid pro quo at every turn, and the absolute certainty that only their point of view is gospel.

After I drink my coffee and score some pain relievers from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, I get dressed and pack the few things I brought with me. Except I can’t find the buttoned up shirt that I wore with my tux…actually, I can’t find any of my tux at all. It’s not a rental, so I don’t have to worry about that, but I do have to get to the airport because I’m scheduled to work in two days. No way am I showing up like this.

A maid in uniform enters my room. “Is there anything you need?” she asks.

“I’ve lost my shirt.”

She smiles. “Ms. Castillo had your clothes sent to the cleaners.”

“Tell her thank you.” I grab my bag and shove my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans. “Could you ask her to send them to her son’s place and I’ll pick them up?”

“
Si.
I will tell her after she wakes up
.
”

“Please tell her thank you since I have to catch a plane back to the States.”

The maid nods again.

The ride to the airport is uneventful and it takes me no time at all to get through security. I sleep the entire flight back, having bought a nonstop ticket back to Charlotte, then spend the next two days recuperating.

By the time Thursday rolls around, I’m good as new again. My day at work couldn’t be better; I have a morning-to-late-afternoon shift that will enable me to hit up the iHeart Radio concert that I’ve been planning to attend for months.

For no reason at all I wonder if Saylor would want to go. I almost pick up my phone to text my buddy, Hunter, for her number. Almost.

I don’t know why I can’t get that woman out of my mind. Maybe I should swing by where she works at the animal shelter and say hi. Or something.

What’s wrong with me?

The two of us barely know each other, our entire cute little meet-up having bee centered around coffee drinking—on my part anyway. Not my finest moment, for sure, but what can a guy do?

In any case, once I get to the venue tonight, I’ll grab a drink and a seat in the VIP section, then chill. Couldn’t ask for a better way to spend a night.

My good mood is still intact by the time I finish my shift. I check on the roster and tomorrow’s schedule before making my rounds. Saving the galley for last, I push open the door and who should I find sampling the hot wings, but…

“Saylor Dean.”

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