“Well, dammit!” He found the right one and the door swung open.
Sassy met him in the foyer and followed him into his bedroom.
“It’s been a helluva night, Sassy girl,” he slurred as he kicked off his boots. “Did you know that the trailer can be a bar? Well, it can. I got whiskey. I played music on my phone until the battery ran out, and I didn’t even have to plug money into the jukebox. I hate that Jolene is working at the Gator. She’s way too classy for that.”
With one jump the cat was on the bed and curled up on the pillow where Melanie should have put her head. Tucker threw himself backward on the bed and shut his eyes.
When he opened them again, bright sunshine was pouring into the room. Both of his hands went to his face to block out the pain. He flipped over on his stomach and covered his throbbing head with a pillow. It was going to be a long, long day for sure, and he needed coffee—lots of it.
He tossed the pillow away and slung his legs over the side of the bed. With something between a groan and a grunt, he stood up and reached for his jeans, only to realize that he’d slept in his clothes. He padded toward the kitchen for his first cup of coffee with Sassy right behind him.
“Good mornin’,” Jolene said cheerfully.
“What’s so good about it?” he grumbled.
She pulled out a chair. “Sit down.”
“Not before I get a cup of coffee.”
She pointed at the chair. “Coffee is not first. Sit!”
“I’m not a dog,” he argued, but he eased down into the chair.
“One time only,” she said, “you get my famous hangover cure. But only once—so write it down or suffer from now on. The ladies are coming for lunch, and we’re going to have a talk with Lucy about the way she’s acting. You don’t need a headache.”
She picked up a bottle of honey and squeezed it out into a tablespoon until it was almost overflowing. “Open your mouth and take this like medicine.”
“I’ll gag,” he protested.
She moved the spoon toward his lips. He could either open his mouth or honey would drip all the way down his shirt. Not sure if he had another clean one until he did laundry, he opened his mouth. The honey was so sweet that it did almost gag him, but he got it down.
“That’s supposed to work better than coffee?” He didn’t need her bossing him around, and he had his own hangover cure—black coffee and lots of it, and then a couple of aspirin.
“That’s just step one.” She handed him two aspirin and a cup of coffee. “Drink that while I get step three ready.”
“This I can believe in.” He picked up the coffee and downed the aspirin with the first sip.
She folded her arms across her chest and eyed him from toes to nose. “Three will do,” she said.
“Three what?”
“Scrambled eggs. You got to figure them by size. Mama took one, but you’ll need three,” she answered as she cracked eggs into a bowl. “You’ve got to be sober because the ladies are having an intervention thing with Lucy today. They were worried about bringing out booze since you drink on weekends, but I told them it would be fine. So it’s going to be.” She raised both eyebrows.
“Yes, ma’am.” Sarcasm coated each word.
There was no way he could eat eggs. They wouldn’t stay down, and he didn’t need to be there while those women had—what was that word she’d used? He tried to think of it, but his head pounded. He almost snapped his fingers in victory when he thought of the word intervention.
“You think you’re magic, do you?” he asked.
“Nope, I’m not magic, but I lived with a drunk long enough to know how to take care of a demon hangover. I did this lots of times for my mother, but you’re not kin to me, Tucker, so I’m only doin’ it once. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for drunks with hangovers, but I want you to be your charming self for my friends this afternoon.”
By the time he’d finished his first cup of coffee, she’d put a plate of eggs and two pieces of toast in front of him. One bite and it was all going to come right back up—he had no doubt. But to prove himself wrong, he shoveled one bite after another into his mouth.