Make Me Hot (Bayshore Book 5) by Ember Leigh

Author:Ember Leigh [Leigh, Ember]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

MAVERICK

The next morning, I sleep through my alarm. It goes off so many times that a pillow is launched against my head.

“Turn it off!” Scarlett groans.

I grunt, groping blindingly for the phone. I can’t open my eyes yet. My mouth is dry as sandpaper, and I’ve got a sunflower of headaches—one big main headache with side shoots, all blossoming with their own headaches.

I’m not going to say that I got depressed and drank all my sadness away last night, but…

Well, yes. I did exactly that.

Not the brightest idea, but I’m not what you’d call proficient at dealing with the storm of emotions that ruined my fucking day yesterday. Jealousy? Possessiveness? Stormy emotions were why I stopped dabbling in relationships in the first place, but apparently I fell into a sexless relationship with Scarlett somewhere along the way. She’s my girlfriend without benefits, which is the actual worst fucking arrangement on the planet, in case anyone was considering trying it.

Except now that I’m trying to add sex into the mix, she ran like the guinea pig I was supposed to see her as.

I’m so confused. Nothing makes sense. And she’s five feet away from me, probably bent over with those off-limits ass cheeks just waiting to wink at me.

Great.

I haul myself to sitting and finally turn off the alarm. I spend a long time sitting there, gathering my willpower to stand up, trying to remember the details from the end of the night. After excusing myself from Scarlett so I didn’t say shit I regretted, I came to the room, realized I needed to be literally anywhere else, and then went straight to the bar.

But there was one good thing in drinking away my sorrows.

I got to know the bartender, as well as one of the other food truck participants. Turns out, I befriended Uncle Lobster himself. He’s a flat-billed ballcap-wearing, half shaved–half long-haired punk with facial tattoos and gauged earrings who goes by Kru. By the end of the night, I had my arm slung around his shoulders crooning “True Kruuuu.” Curiously enough, he is not a lobster in disguise, but he is an uncle. The name came from the fact that his youngest niece always called him Uncle Lobster due to the sheer amount of lobster bisque he’d bring to family gatherings.

That’s enough for me to call him a best friend already.

Something hard hits my low back. I twist to find a water bottle lying behind me. Scarlett wordlessly disappears from the room.

“Thanks,” I croak. If I were even slightly less hung over, I’d be able to register the sheer amount of tension between us. But right now, I don’t care. I’m pissed and hurt and hungover. Worst combo ever.

Our challenge assignment is at eleven downstairs. I have two hours to get functional. I start with some ibuprofen and a cold shower, cursing myself every second of the way for drinking those last shots of rum. Why does it always seem like a good idea at the time?

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