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“Okay.” She said amiably.
And when I started for the steps leading up onto the porch, she did too, trailing after me like a faithful kitten.
It was dark, and I had no idea where the door was, so I crept along slowly, only to curse under my breath when I rammed my shin into the armrest of a wicker porch chair. “Son of a bitch!”
“Be careful,” the girl cautioned from behind me. “Are you okay?”
“Yep,” I said, gritting my teeth through the nip of pain until we turned a corner, and I finally found a door halfway down the walkway. “All good.”
When it opened with ease, I stepped inside the cottage, saying, “Give me a second to find a light.” I patted around the wall until my fingers encountered what they were seeking. “Here we go.”
Then I flipped the switch, and the room exploded with brightness. I took a few moments, squinting through the sudden glare before my eyes adjusted.
She had a nice place. I was jealous. When I was younger, I’d always dreamed of living in a beach house just like this one. It reminded me of my grandma’s cottage.
Turning to tell her I liked her house, I stopped cold, realizing the dark had really concealed her looks. This was the first time I was seeing her.
And damn.
There was no question why someone had targeted her with a date rape drug. The girl was fucking gorgeous. Everything on her was simply stunning, from the springingly lively curls in her long, reddish-brown hair to the shapely curve in her hips and legs.
Her face was smooth with thick, long eyelashes, peach lips, and blushed cheeks. And her breasts were?—
Damn, I should not be checking out how full and lush her breasts were.
But I certainly wasn’t the only one looking.
“Holy crackers, you’re beautiful,” she blurted as she gaped back.
I laughed, a little unnerved by her blunt appraisal, while also charmed at the same time, especially by the way she saidholy crackers. It was cute as hell.
Tipping her head as she kept watching me, she finally lifted a finger and shook it in my direction. “But don’t I know you?”
Ah shit. Here it came. She seemed to be the same age as me, if not a year or two younger, so I said, “Do you attend HaveU?”
She looked confused for a second before her face lit up with a big smile. “Yes!” she said as if just then realizing that she did. “Idogo to Haverick. And you…” She was back to shaking her finger at me. “I know you,” she murmured in growing excitement. “You’rethe guy I’m in love with.”
Well.
That escalated quickly.
Cringing, she wrung her hands and confessed, “I hope you don’t mind that I just promised someone we’d name our first baby after him. But you can name the second one all by yourself, I swear.”
“Um.” Not sure what I was supposed to do withthat, I laughed uneasily. “Thank…you?” I spoke slowly, turning my words into a question before I added, “But first, how about I get you some water. That sound okay?”
“That sounds nice. Gosh, Iknewyou’d be a total sweetheart.” Following me into the kitchen, she added, “Kinsey was convinced you had to be a conceited asshole since you’re all famous and everything, but I refused to believe it. I mean, no one who remains living at home through college just to help his parents take care of his slew of younger siblings could be a selfish prick, am I right?”
I glanced back in surprise, startled that she actually did know something about me after all. “I guess,” I said before trying the first cabinet I came to, in the hopes of finding her a cup. “I hope I’m not, anyway.”
“You’re not,” the girl assured as she sat in a chair at the table that had never been pushed in. “Foster Union’s an all-around good guy. I can feel it in my bones. Oh!” Pressing both hands to her lips, she shifted wide eyes my way. “I know your name. You’re Foster.”
“I am,” I answered, finally finding a glass. Dragging it off a shelf, I went to the sink and began to fill it. “And you are?”
“I’m…” The girl at the table slumped her shoulders with a frown. “Huh. How can I rememberyourname but not my own? This is so freaking weird.”
Wait. She couldn’t remember her own name? Yeah, thatwasweird.
“Maybe it’s some kind of selective amnesia,” I said, “from the date rape drug that you won’t let me take you to the hospital to treat.”
