After walking Braydon and Jessie out and watching as they made their way over to Braydon’s truck, Brendon shut and locked the door before flipping the lights off on his way back to the couch. Staring down at the dark brown leather, he wondered how the hell he was going to fit on the damn thing. Squeezing his six-foot-four-inch frame on that four-foot couch was going to cause him some serious pain in the morning.
Not that he didn’t deserve that.
Giving up on hoping the miniature piece of furniture would double in size, Brendon plopped down on his ass. He considered toeing off his boots but decided he was better off leaving them on. That way, when Cheyenne did wake up in the morning, he could head out without making things awkward for her.
Or him.
BRENDON WASN’T SURE how long he’d been asleep when he heard the sound of old pipes clanking and groaning. He checked the time on his cell phone.
Three thirty-eight.
Crap.
Pushing to his feet, he grumbled. He’d been asleep sitting up and his neck informed him instantly that he was a dumb-ass. Stretching it out as he moved to the stairs, Brendon looked up before he put his boot on the first step. Did he really want to go up there?
No.
Liar.
Fuck.
When he heard Cheyenne moan, he knew he had no choice. She hadn’t just gotten up to go pee, that was evident by the retching noises he heard following her initial sound of discomfort.
“Cheyenne?”
More groaning, more retching.
Shit.
Stepping into her bedroom, he noticed it was dark, but he heard the sounds coming from what he assumed was an adjoining bathroom, so he moved quietly.
“Aww, damn, baby,” he whispered when he saw her hugging the toilet, a sliver of moonlight coming through a narrow window the only light he had to see by.
She didn’t respond with words, but her head lifted and she turned toward the toilet she was currently holding on to for dear life.
“Close your eyes, Chey,” he instructed. “I need to turn on the light for just a second. I promise I’ll turn it right back off.” He wanted to find a washcloth but he had no idea what was what in her bathroom, so he needed some light to search.
Not waiting for her to answer him, Brendon flipped on the light, bathing the oversized room in a warm, yellow glow from the antiquated light fixture above the small mirrored medicine cabinet. As silently as possible, he began searching through cabinets until he found a stack of bright white washcloths. Retrieving two, he twisted the knob for the water and then flipped off the light. After wetting the cloths with cool water, he knelt down on the floor behind Cheyenne.
“Hey,” he whispered near her ear. “Take this.”
When she took one of the cloths, Brendon used the other to wipe the back of her neck after he pulled her hair out of the way and held it with his hand.
“Take slow, deep breaths.”
Cheyenne didn’t say anything, but he heard her do as he instructed. Not that he expected her to talk. Brendon was all too familiar with the pain associated with too much alcohol. He’d been there many times over the last year. Granted, he knew Cheyenne’s wasn’t intentional, while all of his drunken stupors had been. Brendon would drown himself in alcohol, working to banish all thoughts from his head.
Not that it ever worked.
When Cheyenne’s breathing evened out and her vomiting ceased, Brendon helped her to her feet and then scooped her up into his arms before carrying her back to her bed. After covering her up once more, he backed out of the room, coming to a halt in the doorway as he watched her sleep.
Funny … it didn’t matter that she’d just been puking her guts out—something that wasn’t attractive, he didn’t care who you were—she was still the most beautiful woman in the entire world.
chapter THREE
Death was probably more preferable than the pounding that was going on behind her eyes and the desert that had taken up residence in her mouth, Cheyenne thought as she stumbled out of bed the following morning and managed to make her way to the bathroom. She ended up in front of the mirror, cringing at the image that reflected back at her.
Heavens. She looked like shit.
It wasn’t going to get any better until she got in the shower, so Cheyenne flipped on the water and while she waited for it to warm, she flossed, brushed her teeth, and then swished mouthwash for the recommended sixty seconds. Oddly, that alone made her feel tons better.
Reaching into the medicine cabinet, she retrieved pain reliever and downed it with water from the spout before yanking off her clothes and climbing into the bathtub/shower combination.
God, she would be so happy when the remodel was finished. Technically it was her own fault for the delay, but after Kate was born, Cheyenne had purposely pushed Kylie off so that the new mother could spend time with her precious baby, using the excuse that she wanted to be present for the big jobs. Truthfully, Cheyenne had trusted Kylie implicitly, but it had been the only thing she could think of to get Travis’s hardworking wife to take a break.