Waking up face down, hair spewed across my face. Swallowing, I was relieved the slats were angled so as to stop the sunlight melting my eyes.

Slats? Had my mama put up slats in my old room?

This wasn't my bedroom. Lifting my head, I blew the hair from my eyes.

Sweet Jesus. Where was I?

The bewilderment slowly cleared; but the headache that replaced it was going to take longer to shift as last night slapped me in the face.

My first one-night stand!

I squinted and slowly turned, expecting to see a stranger lay next to me. The relief came out in a rushed breath as nobody was there.

But someone had been lying there, there was an indent in the pillow and that side clearly looked slept in.

Well, Riley Jo Lockwood. What trouble have you got yourself into now?

I rolled onto my back, forcing my tongue to explore my mouth, which honestly, tasted like a science lab. Ewe! I'd drank way too much, which took little as I was a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

Okay, let's think this through. I remembered Mr. Dark, tall and broody. A slow smile spread across my face. I was never forgetting him. But ending up here was more of a blur. I'd definitely had sex as I was naked as the day I was born, and a delicious ache stretched across my thighs.

And he hadn't brought me home, tied me up and murdered me. So, all-in-all, this wasn't too bad.

Disappointedly, I wished I'd remembered more of the sex. Anyone who kissed like he had, surely had to be good in the sack? And my throat was definitely hoarse, so I must have been screaming at some point...but what was one-night stand etiquette?

What was I supposed to do now? Do I dress, find a pad and paper and write him a thank you note, before sneaking out?

Nah, if he found me digging in his drawers for a pen and pad, he'd think I'd gone stir crazy.

I pushed myself up, resting on my elbows, and peered around. It was a pleasant room, a little plain perhaps? No pictures. I guess you could say it kinda looked like a guest room. Unless he was one of those OCD neat freaks like my mama.

Mama... if she found out about this. She would have me run out of town.

One crisis at a time, Riley Jo. I pushed that hellish thought clear from my mind.

Get myself dressed!

My bra was over one side of the room and my panties in the opposite, and his clothes were dotted here and there... Apparently, we were eager to get undressed.

Although I didn't see my dress?

My bladder announced itself and I saw a door half open. Pushing free from the cover, I threw my legs over the bed and stood.

Whilst sitting relieving myself in a very nice bathroom, I wondered if he had a spare toothbrush. He might if he did this often.

Did it happen often? Ewe... that thought turned my stomach, and I stupidly realized I couldn't recall if we used a condom. Urgh!

Trash can! I leaned over to sneak a peek, breathing a sigh of relief.

Phew, at least one of us was thinking straight.

Heading back into the bedroom, I slipped on my bra and panties, but no dress. Well, wasn't this a picture? I was gonna have to step out of this room in my underwear!

No point in being shy now, but last night it would have been dark. And hopefully, he wouldn't have seen too much or been too busy to notice all of me? I glanced down. My body wasn't much to write home about.

Maddy, my twin. She had lucked out.

Me. I was shorter, fatter with boobs, waist and hips. Although Connor insisted a man wanted curves, sumthin to hold onto. But if I lost around ten-fifteen pounds like my mama talked about. Excised and ate better, then perhaps I could look more like my sister—rake thin.

Strange thing was. Over the last three years, I hadn't given my body much thought. Guess not having my mama compare me and Maddy at every god given opportunity had left me feeling somewhat okay in my own skin.

But not two minutes after being back in this town. I felt like the lesser twin.

Quit that, Riley Jo. Feeling sorry for yourself never did no one—no good!

Giving my head a quick wobble, I opened the door and peered out.

It was a long hallway with a circular window at the end. The smell of coffee wafted through my nose, making my mouth water as I almost sighed out loud, desperate for a cup of the strong black goodness.

But I couldn't head anywhere without my dress.

Yesssss! There it was, draped over the banister.

Tiptoeing, I passed an open door to freeze. It was a bedroom. A master bedroom, by the looks of it. But my attention wasn't on the bed—It was on the picture beside the bed. Without invitation, I stepped inside as an ice shard sliced down my spine.

Double blinking, the picture was of a woman—a very beautiful woman. I cast a further glance around the room. There were more pictures.

Holy shit! Pictures of him and her... together.

I panicked, shifting my eyes to the bed to see a pale-yellow cardigan. There were shoes by the bed—a woman's shoes.

Emma's shoes? Emma?

My hand scraped across my forehead. Had he called me Emma last night?

My brain was fuzzy, so perhaps that's my overactive imagination.

An explosion went off in my head. May God have mercy on me. I'd slept with a married man. This man had brought me back to his house... the house he shared with his wife.

My stomach dropped to the floor, and I wanted to heave, but that would be pointless. There's nothing inside to fetch up.

What was I thinking, being so stupid?

It's official. I was a home wrecker... a tramp! My mama always said I'd be any man's ruin.

I rushed out of the room but stopped dead as I heard a voice.

His voice.

Oh. My. God. Was his wife downstairs... now? Would she believe I didn't honestly know he was married?

I tried to listen over the thumping of my heart in my ears.

No. Not his wife. He was talking to someone on the phone. He was angry, upset, and the number of fucks and other profanities dropping from his mouth was a punch to my gut.

He wasn't happy. He was ashamed.

Ashamed of being caught? Or regretting that he slept with someone like me?

I don't know what to do. How the fuck could I have done this, Chris? What the fuck am I supposed to do? Yeah. No. She's upstairs asleep. You got any bright ideas? Fuck, fuck! I'm a fucking lowlife, scum-sucking asshole!

The someone on the phone was called Chris, and apparently this was all his fault.

What the hell was I supposed to do? My head's swimming, heart banging and my palms were sweating like a man on death row.

Move your ass, Riley Jo! It had rooted me to the spot for god-knows how long.

Boots! I bolted back to the bedroom and frantically scanned the floor, dipping to see under the bed—no boots.

Cursing. I turned on heel. Dress! Heading straight for the banister, I swiped it and hastily dragged it over my head, getting tangled, cursing for good measure.

Fuck, I have to go, Chris.

I heard his voice again.

Still tangled, I got it over my head, dragging down to cover my body.

But it was too late. He was at the foot of the stairs.

Our eyes clashed.

We stared. Neither sure what to say. The crazy part of my brain was a little excited to see I hadn't exaggerated his good looks and he was better looking in daylight.

But the look on his face. Gone was the lust and desire that had swept my off my feet when we danced. The look he was wearing now. That's a look no woman wants to see on a man.

Agony. Regret. Disgust. Were but a few words to describe his expression.

Curse my powers of observation! I felt like a dirty stain on the carpet.

Move your ass, Riley Jo.

I bounced down the steps, each step a step closer to having to pass him.

I spied my boots at the door. Phew, I could do this, slip past him and get out.

Just two more steps.

He shifted to block me from skating past him, holding up his hands, almost defensively.

I stilled between steps. His expression morphing into tortured. The biggest mistake of his life was standing in front of him.

"Please," he said, his steadfast eyes met mine.

"—You're married." I'd wanted to spit it out as if he repulsed me, but it came out strangled and pitiful.

The color from his face drained as his eyes fell from mine. "Yes—but, let me—" He inhaled a heavy breath.

The confirmation was like a knife to my gut, twisting.

His hands dropped, defeated, as he shifted out of my way. I guessed this was my cue to get the hell-out-of dodge.

He'd had his fun and now wanted rid of what I was sure would be his dirty little secret.

I darted past, scooped up my ankle boots, and reached for the door handle. Opening a crack, a hand came above my head, pressing flat, closing the door. His warm body was almost touching mine as he blew out a stressed breath. "I need to explain."

What? He didn't need to explain anything as my eye spotted his wedding ring. The one thing I should have noticed last night to save me from my own idiocy.

"Just please. Please give me a second to think. I—"

Give him a second?

Na-ah, wasn't happening.

"I need to go." My voice came out firm, which shocked me, because tears were threatening to blow.

He dropped his hand, stepping back and I flung open the door, allowing the sunlight to stream in.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered, but I didn't turn around. I'm out the door and hellbent on getting far away from the house... that man.

Screw him! Screw tequila! And screw my stupidity!

My boots in my hand, I dashed across his perfectly manicured lawn, moving faster than my feet, nearly tripping as I stepped onto the sidewalk. Looking left, then right. This all looked new, and I didn't have a clue to my location. And like the idiot I was, it dawned: I didn't have my phone.

Was Jesus punishing me? Did I leave it back there?

Well, shit. It was too late now. No going back.

Stopping when I was at a safe distance, I slipped on my ankle boots. Straightening, I looked around for any familiar landmarks.

Richmond Heights. I spotted a sigh and vaguely remembered the name. Sure, they had built here just before I left town.

It appeared I was on the East side of Lockwood. Which meant I was at least six miles from Connors' place.

Connor Jackson—just wait till I get my hands on you. Walking, muttering curses under my breath, I didn't notice a vehicle pull alongside me.

"Oh, my lord. Is that Riley Jo Lockwood I spy?"

I stilled, turning to see a pickup with Connor's cousin Ellie Jackson smiling brightly. "As I live and breathe. Connor said you were heading back to our little town."

A sigh of relief shunted across my chest. "Hey Ellie. And yeah, in the flesh."

She looked around. "Aren't you a little far from home, honey?"

I nodded. "I don't suppose you could drive me over to Connors. I seem to have misplaced my phone."

"Sure honey, climb on in. It's on the way."

We pulled up outside Connor and Max's place. Getting here was a recount of Ellie's life over the last three years, ending with her announcement of her engagement and flashing her enormous diamond ring in my face. Apparently, she'd bagged herself a mechanic named Denver, and they were due to be married in the spring. And I was invited.

"Thanks for driving me, Ellie. You saved my bacon."

"Sure, honey, and don't you be a stranger. We've all missed you."

Closing the truck door, I waved her off before turning and stomping toward the front entrance. Thumping my fist like a woman possessed on their green door, I yelled like some crazy fish wife. "Connor Jackson, you better be dead in there because you're due an ass whoopin'"

The door opened, and a half-asleep confused-looking Max stared through one eye. "Jesus, Riley, it's early."

Was it? "How early?"

"He twisted his head. "Barely, nine... in the morning."

That wasn't early.

Max shifted his half naked impressive frame, yawning as he stepped aside. "You better come in."

"Where is he?"

"If you're talking about me, princess. Then look no further." Connor strolled in wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else scratching his head. "What's all the yellin' about, princess?"

Argh! "As I live and breathe. You are un-fucking-believable, Connor Jackson!"

"Well, shit. What did I do?"

I bounced past him into their living room and collapsed on the sofa. "He was married. You let me lose my one-night stand virginity to a married man."

He and Max stared at me like I'd gone crazy. "Fuck!" Connor blew out a breath and headed toward me, flopping down next to me. "Awe princess, come 'ere."

"I'll get the coffee on," said Max.

"Don't suppose you got anything to shift this headache?" I looked up at Max, poking my bottom lip out.

That earned me a sympathetic smile. "I'll fetch you sumthin."

Connor's arm wormed its way around me, dragging me toward him. I didn't fight it. He planted a kiss on the top of my head. "Still, at least tell me you had a good time... well until you found out he's a no-good, cheating scumbag?"

I huffed. "Tell me you have my phone. My mama is gonna roast me alive."

"Yeah, she was messaging, so I pretended to be you and told her you were crashing here."

Phew, at least that was something.

Max returned with three coffees and two Advil, but didn't sit. "I'm gonna hit the shower. Leave you two to talk."

"Thanks Max. You're a lifesaver." The smell of coffee dispersed all my anger. "And sorry for dragging your fine ass out of bed."

Max chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere and don't sweat it Riley, day or night, you're welcome here."

I leaned into Connor with my coffee in hand, sighing, pulling my legs up and under me. "He's married." I repeated.

"Huh, I'm guessing that rules out him ripping off your panties for round two?"

With my free I hand squeezed his thigh hard as hard as I could muster. "Connor Jackson, I swear!"

"Okay, okay." He rubbed his thigh. "You got one hell of a grip on you princess."

"Y'know, be grateful it's not your balls!"

He blew out a sigh. "Okay, start from the top... tell you hot, and super intelligent BFF everything."

Groaning, I spilled the beans.