The First Night Read Online Free

bringing back a rush of memories, though they were jumbled and impossible to place. She tossed them from her mind, too hungover to pay them attention, and slowly followed the scent down the hall, doing her best to recall anything that had happened the night before—after her second trip to the bar.
    It was blank.
    A void.
    A never-ending abyss that gave her no knowledge of whose house she might be in. Or who was cooking breakfast.
    When she came to the end of the hall and rounded the corner she was forced to plant her right hand against the wall for stability. Damn tequila!
    She wanted to hide. Or run. Or put on an invisible cloak. Or snap her fingers and disappear. The bartender. The hot bartender with smoldering eyes was maneuvering through the kitchen. As he turned around, she did her best to wipe the shock from her face in hopes of leaving her expression illegible.
    “Hey light-weight.” His full lips turned up, showing a hint of teeth. He stood there barefoot, with nothing on but thin, gray, cotton, drawstring pajama pants. They sat low on his hips, showing off the well-defined v-shape of his lower torso, boasting more of his tan body than she thought she could handle. Despite her headache and the searing mortification of waking in his bed, Kayla found herself wanting to peel the pants off of him.
    She dropped her head to look at the floor in order to give her mouth a chance to close. “Sorry about that, I don’t drink much.” Horror went over her. She couldn’t remember his name. Gavin? Gammil? Garrett? Ugh! Embarrassing!
    As if he were able to see the pulsing in her head, he went to the cabinet and pulled out a package of BC powder, tossing it on the kitchen island. “You’ll need water,” he said, filling a glass at the sink and setting it beside the hangover meds. When she didn’t reach for the glass, he added, “The sooner you take this, the sooner you’ll feel better.”
    Once she choked it down, she said, “Thanks. I need to get going.” Because I can’t remember your name and I don’t want to ask, and I don’t even know how I got here…or where ‘here’ is.
    “Food…you need food. It’ll help, and not to brag or anything, but I am a master pancake chef.”
    Unable to turn down her favorite food ever, she allowed the smell to compromise her judgment. “Yeah? Well, I happen to be a pancake connoisseur, so I guess I’ll have to be the judge of that.” She leaned against the counter and dropped her shoes on the floor.
    “Challenge accepted.” He grinned, and it lit up his eyes.
    The bartender moved to the stove top, his back to her, and she admired his every move. It was hard not to. His broad shoulders alone commanded attention and his back, lean and toned, showed every muscle as he worked.
    Kayla caught herself before she fell into a drooling trance, and cleared her throat in an attempt to simultaneously clear her head. “I have a question.”
    “What’s that?” He turned and looked at her quizzically as he moved close to set a short stack of pancakes in front of her. He didn’t back away. He stayed close.
    The heat from his body made Kayla’s skin tingle, and she had a hard time not staring at his chest from the corner of her eye. Smooth and strong. She pictured her hands on him. Ugh! Concentrate. What is wrong with you?
    Forcing her gaze not to stray from the plate, she took a bite of food. The pancakes were fabulous. “Mm…these are really good. Are you not eating?” She took another mouthful, hoping the mundane gesture of eating would dull the energy that was obviously building toward him.
    “That’s your question? Am I eating? You got all tensed up for that?”
    Was it that obvious he made her nervous? She chose to ignore his comment. “No…I mean…it was a question. Not the one I planned to ask though.” She sounded like a blubbering idiot. The bartender stepped away, taking his heat with him, and Kayla let out air she didn’t know she was holding. “I just, well,