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  It was an argument Shane always lost because he didn’t care. Sex with Bobbi, whether she was on top or he was, was always hot. Always so fucking hot.

  His pants were now so tight that even a quick shift did nothing to alleviate the pressure between his legs. Shane’s mood blackened—how the hell could he be pissed and horny as hell at the same time? In one quick move he grabbed the bottle from her and rolled down the window, ignoring the curses thrown at him as he tossed it outside.

  “I would have finished it you Neanderthal. Want not waste not,” she muttered.

  “You’ve got that backward as usual,” he glowered at her and snapped, “buckle up.” He turned from her and glanced into mirror as he backed his truck out and pointed it toward the road.

  She spewed forth an epic amount of curse words—even for her—as she struggled with the belt buckle.

  “Been saving those up have you?”

  “What?” She blew her hair out of her eyes as she continued to fumble with the seatbelt and just when he thought he was going to have to pull over and do the damn thing up himself, she snapped it into place and grinned at him. “See?” She leaned back. “I’m not drunk.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he concentrated on the road and decided the only way to deal with Bobbi was to stay quiet and keep his head low. He would get her home and finish off the bottle of single malt scotch he’d been saving for an occasion—if this wasn’t an occasion he didn’t know what was—and he would damn well forget all about Bobbi and her wedding day fiasco.

  She settled against the door, still shivering, and he blasted the heat as an uneasy silence filled the air around him. New Waterford was well over an hour away and with the weather sucking like it was, he’d be lucky to get her home in less than two.

  In fact, the drive home took nearly four hours. An accident on the Interstate held things up and then it was slow going after that as the wet snow became mixed with freezing rain. By the time he reached New Waterford, it was nearly eleven.

  Shane glanced over at his passenger—one who’d passed out at the two hour mark. She was curled against the window, the now ratty looking fur thing draped across her chest, and her face was hidden by a tangled mess of hair.

  He pulled up at the stop light on the other side of the bridge and while he waited for it to turn green, he glanced down at his cell. There were more than a dozen text messages from Billie and only one from his buddy Logan saying, ‘you alright?’

  Shane blew out a hot breath and pressed his foot onto the gas pedal. Was he alright? Hell the fuck no. His plan for the last few months had been working—avoid Bobbi at all costs. Do not engage, and definitely don’t let her get inside your head. So how had he managed to find himself embroiled in the middle of Bobbi’s wedding day shit?

  “Fuck,” he muttered, glancing at the still slumbering woman.

  He thought of Gerald Dooley—and he couldn’t lie—a sense of something other than pity rolled over him. The guy had always been a tool. A boring, lame ass tool. What had Bobbi expected?

  He crossed the bridge, hung a left and followed the river until he turned down Bobbi’s street. It had been ages since he’d been this way and though it seemed that everything in his life had changed, he realized there was still a hell of a lot that hadn’t.

  There was still one woman who managed to screw it up even more than it already was.

  Shane stopped the truck near the edge of the driveway and put it in park, letting the engine idle as he gazed at the house. It was dark, no stars in the sky tonight, but the porch lights were on and a warm glow fell from the windows on the main level. He spied Logan’s truck as well as Dooley’s black SUV parked behind Herschel’s old Ford. Billie’s small compact was nowhere to be seen, but then he supposed it was what she had used to get to The Hard Rock.

  He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and his eyes lingered on the decorations that waved gently in the wind. A large sign on the back of Dooley’s vehicle said, ‘Just Married’ though it had come loose and it too, dangled in the breeze.

  Just like his fiancé.

  A harsh smile lifted his lips and he turned to Bobbi again. Her hand was curled underneath her chin, her breaths deep and even. That mad mess of hair was all over the place so her features were hidden, though her plump lips were visible. She moaned slightly and turned toward the window and it was then that his reality rolled away. He felt it peel back and the sensation was sharp.

  Something hard—something he couldn’t name—punched him in the gut and Shane undid his seatbelt. He slid over and before he could stop himself, gently moved the hair behind her ear. He wasn’t sure how long he stared down at the simple Gaelic symbol that was there, the same one he had tattooed onto his left bicep. It meant ‘forever.’

  It had meant that she was his forever.

  His forefinger brushed along the lines and in that moment everything he’d ever felt for Bobbi crashed into him. It left him burning. Shaking. It left him full and then empty. He remembered the day they’d gotten the tattoos. He remembered how she’d wanted hers put in that spot—the spot he loved to lick and kiss. The spot that had her trembling in his arms.

  It was his spot. And he couldn’t believe it was still there.

  She moved beneath his touch and he removed his hand as she slowly murmured something. Her eyes flickered open and she glanced out the window, wincing as her head fell back against the cold glass.

  “Please take me somewhere else,” she whispered, her shaking hand tugging at her hair as she exhaled and closed her eyes.

  Shane eyed that tattoo again and before he could stop himself, he put the truck in gear and drove off into the night.

  He knew he was crazy. Hell, he was full blown mental to even consider getting involved in her shit, but for whatever reason he didn’t want to analyze his reaction. Didn’t want to think about the consequence. All he knew was, in that moment, he didn’t want Bobbi anywhere near Gerald Dooley.

  He wanted her back at his place. In his bed. He wanted her trembling in his arms while he nuzzled that spot. His spot.

  After everything he’d been through, what the hell was that all about?

  Chapter Five

  Bobbi woke up swimming in a haze of sunlight and pain. With a groan she rolled over and winced, burying her head in the pillow in an attempt to block out the light.

  Oh God, what the hell had she done last night? It felt as if she had drank an entire bottle of…

  Oh, wait. Something stirred in her mind and she groaned again. She had downed an entire bottle of whiskey, or damn near all of it. And maybe some tequila thrown in as well. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol other than the occasional glass of wine in years.

  Intoxication and control didn’t go hand in hand, and lord knows she was all about control these days. What the hell had she been thinking?

  Right. She hadn’t been thinking. Because thinking and control went hand in hand and the alcohol had totally trumped them both.

  Bobbi waited a few seconds for her head to settle and then a few more while her stomach stopped rolling, and then she opened one eye, swearing as the sunlight streaming in from the window hit her dead center. Slowly, her vision focused, and she let out a yelp—which only made her head pound worse—and rolled off the bed in a hurry.

  Clutching her cranium she turned back and stared into the dark eyes of a dog with a longish coat the color of caramel. No, not so much a dog but a mutt really, one who was on the bed as if it had every right to be—which for all Bobbi knew, it did.

  The dog rose and hopped off the bed. It ran over to Bobbi’s side as if waiting for her to do something. Its ears were overly long, with tufts of white hair gracing the ends and its eyes were as big as a deer’s. Its short stubby tail wagged madly, so hard in fact that Bobbi was afraid it would fall over.

  “Who are you?” she murmured, glancing down at herself and noticing for the first time she was dressed in nothing but a T-shirt—a large men’s T-s
hirt that hung nearly to her knees. She flipped up the edge and felt a wave of relief when she saw her black panties were still on. Though, as her hands crept up to her chest she realized she was braless.

  That feeling in her gut—the one that told her shit was about to hit—shot up a few notches as she pushed her tangled hair from her face and glanced around what was, without a doubt, a bedroom. There was a bed. And it was in a room.

  She was in someone’s bedroom. Shit.

  She spied her wedding dress draped over a comfy looking chair and crossed over to it quickly, her hand at her temples as she reached for the expensive raw silk gown. Memories were slowly starting to filter through the haze inside her head as she gazed at the stains that marred the otherwise perfect dress. Then the dread in her stomach ramped up to an extreme level of alarm.

  Where was she?

  Her fingers trailed over the bodice and then her gaze moved to the jeans slung over the arm rest. Faded jeans.

  Guy jeans.

  Faded guy jeans.

  For one second her world tipped a little to the left and if she hadn’t immediately reached for the chair she probably would have fallen on her ass. Hold on, she thought, breathing through her nose and exhaling slowly as she fought to keep her world balanced.

  The Hard Rock.

  Danny the bartender.

  Whiskey.

  She shuddered. Tequila.

  Damn, the tequila.

  Shane.

  Her head whipped up, which was the wrong thing to do because pain took over again and she stumbled to her right, stubbing her toe on the edge of the chair and cursing like a sailor as she struggled to keep herself from falling on her ass.

  What the hell had she done?

  Carefully Bobbi turned in a circle. She saw the massive king size bed, the plain navy blue bed sheets—bed sheets that were a tangled mess—and she swallowed hard as she dragged her eyes away. There wasn’t much furniture in the room. A large armoire stood between two floor to ceiling windows, its elegant design simple, and other than the chair and a desk on the opposite wall, the room was empty.

  The floors were dark wood, from the looks of them refurbished. And they were cold. Cripes, were they cold. She curled her toes and ran her hands along her arms, her eyes falling back to the dog. A dog that had a pink collar with silver studs and diamonds that twinkled. The fear inside her tripled. Shane had a dog. She was sure she’d heard Billie talking about the animal. It had a weird name.

  Bobbi glanced toward the closed door and then bent toward the animal, “Come here doggie.”

  The animal cocked its head to the side and for a brief moment, Bobbi felt as if she were staring into the eyes of a human—one who knew way too much.

  The dog’s tail wagged even harder, its entire back end rocking, and then it ran to her side, tongue lolling to the side as it barked.

  “Shush,” she whispered, glancing at the door once more as she bent over and grabbed the tag. It was as pink as the collar, with a phone number engraved on the back and when she turned it over, she saw the animal’s name.

  Pia.

  “That’s it,” she said hoarsely, reeling away from the animal. “You’re Shane’s.”

  The dog looked at her as if she was an idiot—which apparently she was considering the day after her wedding-that-never-happened, she was dressed in next to nothing…in Shane’s bedroom.

  She stared at the bed once more, wracking her brain, reaching for something more than the fuzzy memories of the Hard Rock. Something more than Shane coming to her rescue. Something that could tell her what happened after…

  After the bar.

  After they had come back to New Waterford.

  She avoided the bed and stared out the window, her hands falling to her chest as a wave of hot and cold rolled over her. Snow whipped by the glass and she knew they were in the middle of one hell of a storm. The window panes shuddered and she closed her eyes tightly.

  Maybe this was just a dream. Maybe she hadn’t run out on Gerald and left him at the altar. Maybe she’d gone through with it and had just had way too much to drink at the expensive reception. Maybe she’d danced until her feet could take no more, twirling around the Country Club like a princess.

  The dog barked once more, interrupting her fantasies.

  Yeah, and maybe she’d taken a trip to the moon and back as well.

  “Oh, Bobbi,” she whispered, “you’ve really screwed up this time.”

  A thought entered her head and she stumbled across the room searching everywhere for her small clutch bag and when she found it, she immediately dug inside, feeling a huge sense of relief when her fingers closed over her cell phone. She whipped it open and froze when she saw Gerald’s name come up. He’d called her several times though the last one had come through just after midnight.

  She ignored the text icon—which showed nearly twenty-five messages—and called her sister Billie.

  Who picked up on the second ring.

  “Holy hell, Bobbi, I’ve been waiting forever for you to call. Are you alright?”

  Bobbi swallowed and took more than a few seconds to answer, unsure if she could even do so until she cleared her throat. “I think so.”

  Silence followed her words.

  “Okay, you don’t sound like you’re about to lose it or anything, which considering you spent the night with Shane, is kind of surprising but…”

  “I didn’t spend the night with Shane.”

  Once more silence followed her words.

  “Okay, but you’re with him right? He told us that he had you and that you were drunk but would be fine.”

  Bobbi chose to ignore that comment and instead focused on something else. “So, does everyone hate me?”

  A pause.

  “Well, not everyone. I still love you.”

  Bobbi couldn’t even muster a half smile at that. “I don’t know where to start. What to say. Gerald must be livid, and Dad,” the knot in her throat became too much and she had to work extra hard to clear it. “How is he?”

  “He’s fine, Bobbi. Don’t worry about us. Don’t worry about anyone other than yourself right now.”

  A pause.

  “So, how did you and Shane end up together?” Billie asked quietly.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know,” she repeated. “After Gramps took me home I had to get away so I hopped into my car and drove.” She sighed and glanced out the window again. “I can’t believe Shane and I both ended up at the Hard Rock over in Chesterfield.”

  “That dive? Really? So what happened after you got to Shane’s?”

  Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut and blocked out the bed. The big ass bed with the tangled sheets. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think anything happened.”

  “You don’t think? You can’t remember?”

  She shook her head and whispered, “No.””

  “Well, Shane would never take advantage of you. He’s not that guy.”

  “It’s not Shane I’m worried about. I wasn’t exactly myself last night and when I get that way sometimes things tend to...well, get out of control and I do stupid things.”

  “Like sleeping with the man you’re still in love with?”

  Shock held Bobbi’s tongue and she inhaled sharply, wincing as the pain inside her head exploded once more.

  “How can you say…” She needed to catch her breath. “Why would you say that?” she sputtered. “I haven’t been involved with Shane for years and in case you’ve forgotten, the man is an ex-con. In what world would I ever get involved with someone who’s been in jail?” She groaned as another shot of pain rifled across her forehead. “Besides, I’m engaged! Why the hell would I…”

  Bobbi’s knees were shaking so hard they almost gave out. Fuck. How could she still be engaged when she’d…

  “You walked out on your wedding, Bobbi. So, tell me again that you have no feelings for Shane.”

  “Look,” she exhaled. “I
just had a case of the jitters. There’s no way Shane factored in on any of what went down yesterday.”

  “Uh huh. You know what I think?”

  Now irritated, Bobbi’s tone sharpened. “No, I don’t want to know what you think.”

  “I think that the only reason you got engaged in the first place, is because Shane came back home. And—”

  “Shut-up, Billie.”

  “And I think that the reason you hurried your engagement along and decided to get married so quickly, was because of—”

  “Billie,” she warned.

  “Shane. I think you had your version of a perfect life all mapped out and then he came home and screwed it up because the two of you have still have feelings for each other.”

  “Oh my god, you’ve seriously lost it. Are you drunk?” Bobbi asked harshly.

  “Nope. Apparently that was you last night. I feel pretty damn good if you wanna know the truth.”

  “Where are you?” Bobbi asked, an abrupt change of subject, but a smart move when she felt cornered.

  “Home, with Dad and Gramps. Why?”

  “Oh, I thought you’d be at Logan’s.”

  “No, he had a family thing this morning that he couldn’t get out of and I didn’t want to leave Gramps and Dad alone.”

  “Where’s Betty?”

  “Who knows? After the reception she left with—”

  “Reception? They went ahead with it?”

  “Yeah, they did which I thought was really nice of Gerry. And can I just say how much the menu rocked? Like, the scallops were divine and those little stuffed mushroom thingies? Heck I don’t know what they were stuffed with but—”

  “How’s Gerald?” she interrupted, her lips tight, her face flushed. Would he ever forgive her?

  She heard Billie sigh. “Well, for a guy who was stood up on his wedding day and left at the altar, he seems sorta, well….”