Attached (Coronado Series Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

fall at my feet. Why do you keep saying that?”
    “Never mind. I’m tired, and I think the last margarita I had might’ve put me over my limit. I’m going to bed.”
    She walked across the parking lot and over to the motel, and he watched go into her room. Well, he’d officially screwed that up, pissed her off and hurt her feelings. Damn, he was good with women. It was good to know he hadn’t lost his touch. He made his way over to his truck, grabbed his bag and headed for his room.  

CHAPTER THREE

    Cary woke up with a massive headache. She rolled over, took a slug of water and tried to look at the clock. Her head started to pound with the effort, so she put it back down on the pillow and tried to go back to sleep. She was just about to nod off when she heard knocking. That was strange…her head was knocking instead of pounding. She pulled the covers over her head and hoped it would stop soon. She finally realized it was the door, so she stumbled out of bed and opened the door and was immediately hit with sun directly in her eyes. Her head was starting to pound again, and she was beginning to feel sick. She finally managed to open one eye and saw that it was the arch-angel of doom. She tried to close the door, but he was already half-way in. “I think it’s too early for you to ruin my day.”
    Travis looked at Cary and felt his heart skip a beat. He admired her curly hair sticking out in every direction and her mascara-smudged eyes. He’d never seen anything sexier in his life. He was rewarded with a glimpse of pretty lace underwear as she lifted her arm. “Good morning sunshine-I brought you coffee and donuts.”
    “Why are you shouting? Stop shouting.” Her head was pounding furiously, and she felt her stomach start to heave up. She made a dash for the bathroom and managed to slam the door shut before she started throwing up into the toilet. She leaned over and lost last night’s dinner and all the margaritas she’d drunk. It took longer than she would’ve liked before she felt the nausea slowly subside. Managing to sit up, she leaned herself against the cool tile wall as she prayed for death. It somehow seemed appropriate since the arch-angel of doom was right outside the door. Maybe he’d left. Certainly hearing someone throw up would tarnish the shine on even the prettiest penny. She heard the front door open and close and said a silent prayer of thanks. Next time she wanted to get rid of a man, she would just drink too much and throw up-something to keep in mind for the future. She finally felt a little better and was able to get into the shower. She stood under the spray for a long time and almost fell asleep. The water had cooled, and she finally roused herself and got out. As she was drying off, she noticed a large soda on the sink. How did that get there? She took a sip and discovered it was Diet Coke, her favorite. She combed her hair, washed her face and took four aspirin while enjoying her cold soda. She opened the door slightly. “Can you hand me my robe and some underwear? It’s there in my suitcase.” She reached her hand out and felt the robe and underwear drop into her hand. “Thank you.”
    She wrapped herself up and slowly opened the door. She’d hoped that he’d left, but luck wasn’t on her side. He sat in the chair drinking his coffee and reading the paper, looking totally relaxed and gorgeous.  
    He looked at her and tried to determine how bad off she was. “How do you feel?”
    “Why are you talking so loudly? Talk in a normal voice, please.”
    “I’m not speaking loudly. You’re just hung-over. Drink your soda and eat this Egg McMuffin. You’ll feel better.”
    He handed her a bag from McDonald’s, and she almost felt like kissing him. Maybe he wasn’t the arch-angel of doom after all. “I’m mentally taking back half of the nasty things I’ve thought about you in the last twenty-four hours. You’ve redeemed yourself with this food.” She opened the bag and