17

Rose woke with the banging head from hell, her mouth was dry and fuzzy and the merest hint of light, when she attempted to open her eyes, was agony. She tried to turn over, feeling unfamiliar cotton sheets around her and the unfamiliar smell of laundry detergent she did not use. Confusion breaking through the fog.

Slowly opening one eye, she took in a masculine room around her, wooden slatted blinds letting a little light peep through from outside. Just enough to make her retract under the covers until she adjusted. Her stomach was mimicking a washing machine and when she resurfaced to try again, the first thing she saw was a glass of iced water on a little wooden table. Reaching out, she took it gratefully and slowly sipped some until at least her fuzzy mouth improved. She sat up slowly, blinking and adjusting to the semi-gloom of the room, her head not spinning too much if she moved carefully and she regretted getting so crazily drunk last night.

It was obviously a male’s room. Dark wood, navy, cream, and blue bed sheets. The leather armchair, by a big stone fireplace opposite the bed, had a rumpled blanket and cushions still in place as though someone had slept there. There were large dark bookcases lining one wall, filled with various books, trophies and picture frames. Her eyesight too blurry to focus on the pictures and try and figure out where she was.

Her dress was hanging up on a wooden hanger on the front of a huge mirrored wood wardrobe door, looking tatty, ripped and stained with grass and muck. She groaned inwardly, trying not to think of how much that dress had cost. Trying not to take in the fact that repair was unlikely. Pulling back the covers, she looked down to see she was wearing a pink oversized t-shirt nightdress, printed with kittens, and sighed with relief. She had no bra on under that dress and the scantiest underwear, which could have been embarrassing. She hoped whoever dressed her had been as female as the nightie covering her fragile body.

The room smelled strongly of a very familiar male scent and as her memory came back from parts of last night she realised with a warm fuzzy feeling where she was. Followed by a suddenly dreadful thought that she had no memory of how she got here or exactly what happened. Her last memory had been dancing wildly with a group of women to a favourite popular song about Scotland, and then nothing but blackness. Her achy head and cloudy memories evading her the more she tried.

Looking around the room there were three doors. One left open wide, led to an en-suite bathroom and she made her way slowly, like a fawn trying out new legs. Her head was thumping so badly it was making her feel nauseous, so was relieved to see the pack of aspirin placed thoughtfully on the sink with a clean glass. Whoever had left her here, obviously knew what a hangover felt like.

After using the bathroom, washing the mess off her face from tear stained smeared makeup and unpinning what was left of her hair, she ventured back out. Swallowing the aspirin with her iced water and trying not to gag with the effort. She picked up her dress, noting the huge tear and chunk of missing fabric and the absolute sodden state of it; trying desperately to remember what the heck she had done.

Surely, she had not gone rolling in the garden with him, had she?

Her dress suggested she had done something unspeakable and well it did look as though someone had chewed her dress up. Ripped it open to reveal a leg or more. She rubbed her head, torn between shame and confusion. Remembering the pictures on the shelves, she turned, walking towards them just to make sure she was guessing rightly at which ‘Him’ it was. Relief flooded through her as pictures of Rob, Abby and various other Munro looking people splayed before her on the shelves. She would have cried if pictures of Matt had stood before her instead. That was some compensation at least. The confirmation gave her a warm glow inside, knowing that this was his room, his bed and he had most likely brought her here. If she had done something slutty and unthinkable, then at least it was with the right guy.

Oh my God...Abby!

Abby would never speak to her again if she had done unspeakable things in her garden with her brother!!!

Falling back to sit on the bed, she balled up her fists and rubbed her closed eyes rather aggressively. Trying to get a handle on her memories. It did not help and opening them again did not change the scene before her. Sighing and feeling utterly deflated her eyes again fell on the armchair facing her.

Wait a second.

The armchair had pillows and a blanket left crumpled and tossed aside. Someone had slept there or at least had tried too. She spun around looking at the bed, realising only the side she had woken up on was disheveled. The other side was still flat and neat and untouched on the massive king-sized bed. Falling back with relief she started to try and think over the events in a sensible manner.

If She had gone randy rolling in the garden with Rob, then he would have had no qualms sleeping in a bed with her surely?

He did not strike her as the shy type or the refrain before marriage type either. He certainly wouldn’t have had need to dress her in a kitten covered nightdress that looked more like Abby’s style than...Jesus. Morag!

Snapping upright and causing an immediate stomach lurching reaction that had her running to the bathroom to throw up, she tried to calm her racing thoughts.

He had a girlfriend!

Morag!

Where the hell was she last night? Where was she now?

As she clearly asked him to go to bed with her and he clearly scooped her in a fireman’s lift and left.

Did he have more than one bedroom? Is that where he was?

Was he that kind of guy that had a woman waiting at every turn?

Then who the hell slept in here, watching her?

Tossing and turning on the bathroom floor, with her head propped against the toilet bowl she could feel the pressure from her sore head threatening another onslaught of sickness. The stress was not exactly helping and when someone knocked lightly on the bedroom door out to the right, she almost did not want to answer.

‘Bathroom...being sick!’ She called out weakly and managed to use her foot to reach out and swing the bathroom door a little shut. Concealing her from prying eyes. Whoever had knocked, entered the room and she heard the clinking of dishes as they slid something onto the bed. She stayed curled up, listening by the toilet, wishing she had lifted her glass of water to cradle in here, she needed to remove the burning awful taste in her mouth.

Almost reading her mind, the door slowly moved open, revealing bare male feet, sweat pant clad legs, a muscular torso that was clothed in a grey t-shirt and manly hands holding her glass of water. Rob smiled down at her, bending to hand her the cold glass. He looked bright and cheerful with no hint of a hangover at all and far too attractive for Rose’s liking, she felt completely dishevelled.

‘How are you feeling? Besides the needing to throw up that is.’ He smiled her way, having the good grace to not recoil at what must have been an awful sight.

She took the glass gratefully, shyly and a little reluctant to look him in the eye, suddenly aware how her seating position was making the short nightie ride up even more, exposing her lace thong. Pulling it down over her legs to create a cocoon only widened the neck, revealing her cleavage and lack of bra. There was no winning with this one and struggling with it only made her stomach lurch some more.

‘Like there’s a herd of horses stamping on my skull and my insides have been replaced by a spin dryer.’ She grimaced and took a much-needed sip of water in a bid to avoid eye contact. Mortification creeping over her slowly.

‘Hangover from hell, then? Not that I’m surprised considering the state you were in.’ He walked out of the bathroom, returning seconds later and handed her a white fluffy bathrobe, obviously realising how uncomfortable she must have been feeling. Gratefully, she pulled herself up and shrugged into it with help from him. Aware of how close and just how good he looked this morning. There was no hint in his manner that anything sexual had happened between them. He stood back, leant against the bathroom door and watched her silently.

‘I didn’t do anything stupid last night, did I?’ she couldn’t meet his gaze.

You know, like let you ravage me in the bushes.

Turning her back to him as she tied the robe, needing a moment to gain control of her body and its usual crazy routine of falling to bits at his arrival, she caught sight of them both in the mirror and the amused smile playing on his face as his eyes wandered down over her back.

‘Besides crawling through the garden, scaling fences and sleeping in rose bushes? Nah you were the picture of sophistication. I do now realise why your name is Rose though; flower baby.’ He smirked her way and caught her eye in the mirror, making her blush instantly.

‘Oh, my god! I did what??’ She spun round, eyes large with disbelief and then laughter. Embarrassment tinging her cheeks.

‘I found you snoozing in the garden, rather damp and grass stained but completely out cold.’ Still lazily leaning on the door frame his eyes looking over her unashamedly.

‘Oh God!’ Rose groaned, cringing at that statement.

‘Next time you want to drink yourself into a coma and go rambling in the wildlife, give me a heads up so I can at least escort you!’ He extended a hand towards her, beckoning with his head to follow.

Like an obedient pup but awash with shame, she reached out, placing her hand into his and reveling at the touch that was becoming familiar. Inwardly scolding herself for being pathetic and acting like a prepubescent teen.

He turned slowly, enveloping her hand in his securely, before he led her to the bedroom in a very authorative manner, sending shivers running the length of her body at both her hangover and his close proximity. On the bed was a tray of food, scrambled eggs, toast and coffee.

‘Eat! I’ll come back with some clothes for you from Abby and you can use the shower, or the bathtub if you prefer. I need to nip out for a bit, but I’ll take you home when I get back. I’ll drive your car over later before I go for my run.’ He let go of her, sliding past her, their bodies briefly touching and sending a hundred tingles through her already alert self. He stopped catching her eye as they touched and seemed to shake himself mentally too. Moving off to give her space and grabbing a hooded top from a nearby coat rack. She felt the coldness wave over her as he moved off, disappointment at the loss of his touch.

‘Rob?’ she stopped him as he was walking out of the room. ‘Who stood guard?’ she motioned to the armchair where the blankets were strewn across the arm.

‘Me!... Had to make sure you didn’t choke in your sleep ...Abby dressed you with the help of Alice McKay, if you’re worried I took advantage.’ He winked and smiled oddly at her, pausing a moment to look down briefly where the robe had moved open, revealing a hint of cleavage, before turning to head back out. Rose felt her cheeks colour and pulled the robe tighter. Sparks flying off inside her like the fourth of July.

‘Thank you... Thank them.’ She wavered a little breathlessly.

Not that I would mind you taking advantage.

She would just like to have a memory of it if he had.

She had to drag away her eyes from his departing form, a little too aware of how much his shirt and sweat pants clung in very muscular places and showcased his perfect physique a little too well. Aware of how little oxygen was left in this room as she struggled to take a breath and steady her jelly legs.

‘You will probably see them before I do.’ He yelled back from the hall before heading off, opening another door and disappearing.