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Chapter 1: Spencer Nash
What the Fuck Happened Last Night?
As consciousness plows into me, I’m reminded why I don’t drink tequila anymore.
My entire body aches as I try to remember how the hell I even got here, and…nope.
The night is a complete and total blank.
The last thing I remember is tequila. An allergic reaction. Benadryl. Mixing tequila and Benadryl is never a good idea.
Never.
I try to remember the last time I got black-out drunk, and just as a vague, faded memory starts to spark in my foggy brain, a voice beside me startles the hell out of me.
Apparently, I’m not alone.
“Oh shit!” the voice says, and the woman darts out of bed and runs for the bathroom, slamming the door.
What the fuck?
Where am I right now?
I open my eyes slowly and glance around. I’m in a hotel room. My hotel room in Las Vegas. I’ve been staying at the Aria for the last few days.
Why am I here?
My three brothers and my father live here. I’m a frequent visitor. This time I came for my brother’s weeklong bachelor party, and apparently last night, the liquor was flowing.
And was that woman running to the bathroom…my ex-fiancée?
I’m honestly not entirely sure, but I don’t think it was. Amelia has blonde hair. It’s dark in here despite the light trying to get in on each side of the drawn drapes, but I don’t think that was blonde hair swirling around the woman who bolted.
And just as I think of Amelia, another realization plows into me.
As far as I know, Amelia’s not here in Vegas.
Her sister, however, is.
I freeze as I wonder if that was Gracie Newman running to the bathroom just now.
Oh shit. Did I hook up with my ex’s sister last night?
Is that Gracie Newman retching in the bathroom right now?
Should I go help her? Hold her hair back? Do…something?
Wait. Gracie was here to tell me about something. It was a warning. My memory is starting to come back, but the thunder clapping in my head isn’t helping me make much sense of anything.
I can’t make myself move with the way my head is pounding and my stomach is rolling.
I suck in a deep breath. Did I sleep with her last night?
Fuck. If I did, and I don’t remember it—
There’s no way the commander-in-briefs could’ve worked after a night of tequila that resulted in a morning of complete memory loss, but I suppose anything is possible where Grace is concerned.
I raise my hands to rub my face as I sit up against the headboard, and that’s when I feel it.
