City of Champions (21 page)

"Up and at 'em, sleepyhead," Wyatt said cheerfully, as he plopped on the bed beside Jenna, making her lean body bounce up and down on the mattress. He'd been watching her sleep for a while and was sick of waiting — he needed to know if he'd broken through for real, if she was really willing to give him the opening he'd been working toward for weeks.

"What? What's going on?" She opened her bleary eyes. For a moment they flashed something that looked like happiness at seeing him, which quickly contorted into panic. "Oh, hell. What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"Oh, hell, again. Then what am
I
doing here?" she asked, shooting up to a seated position, only to quickly grasp her head with her right hand and flop back down on the pillow.

"Not a morning person, are you, sunshine?" Wyatt asked mercilessly.

"Not this morning, I'm not. And now you're calling me 'sunshine?' Do you spend your days coming up with annoying things to call me? Jenna is also an acceptable name for me, you know."

"I like that one, too, but that would annoy you less, so that wouldn’t be as much fun. I was testing out sunshine, but I think it's a no-go — doesn't seem to fit you today."

"Ugh, of course it doesn't, that's because I think I'm dying."

"You're the doctor, not me, but I'm going to bet you'll be okay."

She grunted deeply and rolled over, pulling the blanket over her head, only to pull it back away with a gasp.

"Why am I just in your shirt and my panties? Where is my dress? Oh God, please tell me we didn't…"

"Christ, woman, I'm not
that
bad a guy. I put you to bed and thought you'd be more comfortable like this. I was a perfect gentleman. I barely even touched you."

"I'm sure you didn't," she snorted out.

"Hey, Doc, news flash — you're the one that demanded I touch you. You were pretty mad at me, too — didn't want to take no for an answer."

"Oh,
hell
…this is getting worse by the second. I think you're trying to torture me."

"I didn't even peek, I promise, well, maybe a little. And I lent you my shirt. That little sparkly thing you had on was hella hot, but didn't look too comfortable."

"Aren't you so chivalrous," her voice broke a little and she made this funny smacking gesture with her lips. With a chuckle, Wyatt handed her a big glass of ice water, which she gulped gratefully, before plunking it on the table beside her. "Thank you. And, I got here, how?"

"You sent me a text me to come get you, so I did."

"Oh, the text. It's all coming back now. Unfortunately. Ugh, I can't even do a booty call right anymore. I really am a disaster." She threw the cover back over her head. "I can't believe I did that. If I didn't feel like I was about to die, I'd run and hide right now."

"Of course, you would, Doc." He smirked and pulled the cover back to hand her a fizzy glass of water.

"What is that?
Alka-Seltzer
?" she croaked out.  "Are you eighty years old or something?"

Wyatt couldn't help but chuckle a little. She was clearly trying to keep up her stoic front, but all he saw was an adorably grumpy ball of blonde sexiness curled up in his bed.

"Hey, come on, Doc, don't hate on
Alka-Seltzer
. It's saved my life a couple of times, or at least it felt like it. Drink up."

"Fine," she muttered, sitting up in bed with jerky movements that made Wyatt's mouth go dry at the look of her in his favorite old University of Texas tee shirt. The two horns were touching her breasts and it was really distracting — so much so, he didn't even notice her finish off the glass and place it down on the bedside table with a clank.

"I guess I better get going."

"What? So soon? I mean, I didn't mind taking care of you, but I haven't really gotten the good end of the deal here."

"And this is the good end?"

"Well, you're conscious, so that's an improvement. And you look good in my tee shirt, so I'd say I'm okay with this morning so far. But I have some other ideas about your good end."

"Lovely. So let me get this straight, you apparently turned me down last night? Wow, my self-esteem has had better days."

"Oh, come on, Doc. You know I think you're incredibly hot, but you were practically unconscious. Give me some credit. I mean, I'm an asshole, but I'm not a dick."

Jenna moved her head so her hazy-blue eyes could focus on his face.

"You're not an asshole or a dick, Wyatt," she said on a deliberate sigh.

"Wow!
Now my
self-esteem is through the roof. Easy with the praise, Doc. I could get used to this."

"Oh, stop it." She halfheartedly threw a pillow at him.

"Oof. Oh, I think you hurt me. I may need you to examine me. Make sure I'm all right."

"You're fine," she huffed out, sitting up. "I mean it, though, I really should go."

"Wait a second. I thought we would discuss your offer from last night a bit more."

"I'm not even entertaining that comment until I brush my teeth and feel half human for the first time this morning."      

Wyatt smiled. That wasn't a flat-out rejection, so he had some faith.

She awkwardly hoisted herself out of bed, slapping her bare feet on his hardwood floor as she pulled his threadbare tee shirt further across her curvy, athletic ass.

"Hey, cut it out!" she shouted, turning to glare at him.

"What?" he asked with feigned innocence.

"Stop staring at my ass."

"I'm not staring. I'm just appreciating it…intensely."

"Fine. I'm too tired to fight you. Can you show me to the bathroom? I need some toothpaste."

"Of course, Doc. I will set your mouth up perfectly."

"Right. Charming as ever, Wyatt."

"I aim to please. Follow me."

He stood and began to lead her out when she stopped short.

"What's that? Is that a guitar?"

"Yep."

"You play?"

"I do. I sing, too."

"You're kidding me."

"Don't act so surprised. I'm not half bad, I mean my abuela is a fan. More so of my Spanish guitar playing. That one is in another room. This one's more for my Irish-beer-drinking half."

"Ugh, don't mention beer, I'm still trying to let that
Alka-Seltzer
work its magic. Talking about alcohol could have unpleasant consequences."

"Duly noted. Now, about that toothbrush."

"Yeah, please show me the way," she whispered, still studying the guitar with confused eyes.

Jenna grasped the edge of Wyatt's marble bathroom basin with white-knuckled force, as she tried to fight back the emotions of complete shame and panic rising in her chest. He'd been pleasant enough, especially considering she'd practically jumped him the night before. She'd been so bold only a handful of drunken hours before — ready to put a lifetime of responsible decisions behind her, only to get rebuffed and humiliated. A rational part of her brain appreciated that he'd done the right thing, but the rest of her couldn't get over the feeling of embarrassment and self-disgust.

She looked in the mirror and was shocked to see the same face that had greeted her for the last three decades of her life. Jenna had imagined a different woman would be there, one who handled challenges with grace, but no — it was just her, with some extra mascara streaks on the tops of her cheeks.

"It looks like I don't wear 'dangerous fun' well," she said out loud, into the cavernous room, which could've swallowed her entire bedroom. She turned around and let herself take it all in. There was a glass shower with a dozen shower heads that her logical eye could tell weren't just for comfort, and an enormous bathtub that ignited a slew of fantasies of sloshing around in there with Wyatt.

"It looks like my sex drive still hasn't learned its lesson. Time to brush my teeth, stop talking to myself, and get out of here."

She turned around and finally noticed there was indeed a brand-new toothbrush already on the sink for her next to his toothbrush and toothpaste. She snorted to herself, assuming he had a hundred of these fresh toothbrushes for his overnight lady friend guests, most likely buying them in bulk.

A pang of guilt struck when she saw the name of his dentist on the handle.

"Okay, maybe I'm being too hard on the guy. And…I'm still talking to myself. Jesus, woman, pull yourself together," she mumbled out loud, right before she shoved the toothpaste-soaked bristles into her mouth.

With her face scrubbed, teeth polished, and dignity slightly more intact, Jenna ventured back into his bedroom. She hadn't gotten much of a chance to explore his home when she'd trampled into it the night before like some kind of a blonde tornado.

She grabbed her bra off the chair, feeling impressed it wasn't thrown on the floor. Looking toward the door to make sure she’d be alone, she quickly lifted the shirt and put the bra on, closing the clasp in the front. She was starting to feel normal again. Yet, all that relief flew away when she realized her neck was bare. She yanked the shirt down and scrambled to the bed, tearing at the covers and pillows, desperate to find that most-prized connection to her mother.

Just when she was beginning to fear it may be lost forever, like so many other things Jenna had once loved, she saw a ray of sunlight out of the corner of her eye, glinting cheerily against the gold heirloom that meant so much to her.

Her locket was resting safely on Wyatt's bedside table. The relief was almost crippling to her in her over-emotional and hungover state. Everything in her life was so confusing and scary, with no telling what the next day or week would bring. Jenna sank heavily into the mattress of Wyatt's now disheveled bed, her still bare legs dangling off the edge, and her heart firmly nestled in her throat. For the life of her, she didn't know what to do next. Time was marching ahead second by second, but Jenna felt like she was standing still with no idea what to do next.

All she knew for sure was that this precious piece of her mother was safe in the bedroom of the last man she ever thought would make her feel looked after and protected. But he'd rushed to her side when she'd asked, and taken the necklace off her when she was too stupid to do it for herself.

It was such a little thing, but it felt huge to her — significant, in fact. The whole morning was so confusing. Everything had been so much easier when she could tell herself Wyatt was nothing but the same jerk she'd met before. It wasn't that simple now.

Whatever the Jenna from the night before had thought, the Jenna of today knew she needed to face her fate alone. She couldn't allow herself to rely on Wyatt — he had already gotten under her skin too much. She worried if she grew to care for him and then found out she was sick, would she be strong enough to say good-bye? The only smart answer was to have the consideration to thank him quickly, but then get the hell out of there, and
fast
.

Breathing deeply she willed herself to put on a neutral face and get this over with quickly. Standing up briskly, she grabbed her dress only to toss it back on the chair after she caught a whiff of the stench of the casino and too many spilled martinis.

"I'll put it on after I say good-bye to him. It's going to be bad enough facing him again without having this funky thing on," she whispered to herself, before grabbing her locket and charging into his kitchen.

His elaborate, beautiful, and
empty
kitchen.

"Going somewhere?" he asked from behind her, with a gentle touch to her back, making her jump. "Whoa, easy, Doc, I've got hot coffee here and I generally try to avoid third-degree burns in my daily life, if I can."

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I wasn’t looking at that side of the kitchen and you surprised me. I think I'm a little nervous."

"Just relax. Here, I made this for you," he said, showing her the mug.

"Wow, thanks. I feel like I'm getting the five-star treatment here."

"Well, you're the only woman I've ever given this treatment to, so I guess it's at least exclusive."

"Ooh, now if you go and make me feel special, that might go to my head, you know?"

"Ah, come on. A sensible girl like you? I'm not worried."

"I don't feel too sensible right now. I figure a trip back to my real life will work wonders for me."

"Don't you want your coffee? What do you have there?" he asked, as he placed the coffee mug on the counter behind her.

"What?" she asked.

"Behind your back. Stop being a baby. Show me."

"I'm not being a baby. It's my necklace, that's all. Thanks for taking it off for me."

"Which did you like more, me taking off your dress or your necklace?"

"The necklace, of course. I just mean, well, thanks for doing that when you, um…"