Well Hung Over in Vegas: A Standalone Romantic Comedy Read online

  “Look at those black rings under your eyes,” she says. “You look like a raccoon who stayed up all night getting high on bath salts.”

  “Okay, Emily,” I groan, wondering why I ever drank anything, ever.

  “Remember the Crypt Keeper?” she asks, ignoring me. “From Tales from the Crypt? You look like him if he got a makeover but then fell into a barrel of acid.”

  “Okay!” I say, raising my pounding head. “I get it. I look horrible.”

  “No,” she says, tilting her head as she examines my face. “Horrifying is the word I would go with. Maybe even soul-crushingly awful. You’re making me want to start a charity for you.”

  “I hate you,” I groan, dropping my head back onto the table. This is going to be my first meeting with the new owner of the company, and I feel like I woke up in a bus station.

  “You look like Gary Busey had a baby with a turtle,” Emily says.

  She pulls her phone out and starts taking pictures. “This is going on the company website,” she says, snapping away. “It’s going to be your new profile picture.”

  I reach up and give her the finger. There. Put that on the company’s homepage.

  “Look at your shirt,” she says, stifling a laugh. “You have sweat stains under your armpits. You look like you just got finished tarring a roof in the middle of July.”

  “All right,” I snap. “I know I look horrifying, but I can’t help it. I don’t know what happened. I had one drink with you guys, and then all hell broke loose.”

  “All hell broke loose on your hair,” she says, cringing as she looks up past my forehead. “Your hair looks like you have a possum living inside of it.”

  She pulls her muffin towards her as she scrunches her nose up. “Does the possum bite?”

  “I hate you,” I say, dropping my head back onto the table.

  I can hear in my boss’s headphones that Footloose is almost over. Two more everybody cuts and I’ll have to start acting professional.

  With a last energetic strum of his air guitar, Mr. Wallace takes off his earbuds and sits down.

  He cringes when he sees my face. So, it’s not just Emily’s normal sarcasm. I do look like shit.

  Great.

  “I was worried we were going to have to bail you out of jail,” he says, sitting across from me. He folds his hands together on the table as he stares me down. “Office cocktail parties are supposed to be professional. It’s not a time for you to get white girl wasted and relive the glory days of Spring Break.”

  “Sir,” I say, dipping my chin. “I can explain.”

  He crosses his arms over his expensive suit and leans back in his chair. “Please do.”

  “Uhhh.” I have nothing. To be honest, I have no idea how I went from classy cocktail to sloppy sloshed. It doesn’t make any sense.

  “Some people just can’t handle Vegas,” Emily says, shaking her head as she watches me with a look of pity on her face.

  I glare back at her. If looks could kill, she’d be blowing the devil in hell.

  The intercom beeps on the phone, and Mr. Wallace gives me one last frown before answering it. “Yes.”

  “Mr. McMillan is here.”

  Mr. Wallace exhales long and hard. “We’re ready for him.”

  The three of us stand up as we wait for the new boss to enter. I clasp my hands in front of me to hide the sweat stains that Emily so graciously pointed out.

  Mr. Wallace is nodding his head, his lips moving as he sings under his breath. “Kick off the Sunday shoes,” he whispers, getting himself ready.

  Oh, no.

  What the hell is he doing here?

  He walks in looking as fresh as the bright sun in the Caribbean sky while I feel as fresh as a urinal cake after a Super Bowl party.

  It’s him. The naked guy from this morning.

  He looked good naked, but he looks absolutely delicious in a dark gray suit with a classic white shirt and black tie. The material is tailored to his muscular frame, and I gulp at the size of his broad shoulders and round biceps. His hair is no longer a sexy mess but looks just as good combed and gelled to the side like he had a team of stylists rush into his room the second after I left.

  A sudden coldness grips my core as he ducks under the low doorway and shakes my boss’s hand.

  “Wow,” Emily gasps beside me.

  Wow is fucking right.

  There’s an army of hummingbirds in my stomach fighting for space. I want to crawl under the table and hide. I want to turn invisible or melt through the wall. I want to do anything but stand here in shock with my mouth hanging open, but unfortunately, it’s all I seem to be capable of at the moment.

  Maybe if I stand really still no one will see my cheeks turning as red as my new boss’s boxer briefs.

  “Hi, Mr. Wallace,” Emily says, hopping forward with a big smile on her face. Her chest is thrust out for his visual enjoyment. “I’m Emily.”

  “Hi, Emily,” he says, bowing his head slightly as he smiles back at her. “Please, call me Tyler.”

  “Okay,” she says, clasping her hands behind her and looking as giddy as a school girl who just got asked out by her crush.

  Tyler turns to me and jerks his head back in surprise when he recognizes me. I’m not sure how he does recognize me since I looked like an angel last night, and right now I look like a troll who lives under a highway overpass.

  His beautiful jade green eyes are locked on me as his sexy lips curl up into a grin—those same lips that last night were on my… nevermind.

  Mr. Wallace butts in when we just stare at each other in shock. “This is our COO, Dahlia Winters,” he says, introducing me.

  Tyler reaches his hand out, and I hold my breath as I slide my hand into his. It’s no big deal. It’s just a handshake. A handshake from a hand that was caressing my naked breasts and sliding in and over my hoo-ha just a few hours ago. No big deal.

  I want to die.

  He grins as he takes my hand in his, cupping it with his other hand like he did an hour or two ago in his hotel room. “Hello, Dahlia,” he says, his deep voice coming out like the purr of a lion. “I’m sure it’s going to be a pleasure working with you.”

  I give him a firm handshake back and nod my head, pretending like we just met. “It’s nice to meet you as well,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I am looking forward to having a respectful, professional relationship with you.”

  Emily pries her eyes off of Tyler for a second and turns to me with a confused look on her face.

  “Definitely,” he says with a grin. “I can’t wait to see what happens.”

  “Should we get started?” Mr. Wallace asks, motioning to the conference table in front of us.

  The four of us sit down, the boys on one side and the girls on the other like we’re back in elementary school.

  “Would you like a coffee?” Mr. Wallace asks him, already sucking up to his new boss. “We also have donuts or fresh fruit.”

  “No, thanks,” Tyler says. He looks at me and licks his lips. “One of your employees generously gave me their peach and it was delicious.”

  My eyes drop to the table, and I stare at the grains in the wood, trying to pretend like this is not happening.

  Mr. Wallace nods. “I’m sure you’ll find that the employees in our beloved company are very generous. They’ll provide you with anything that you need.”

  “Anything?” Tyler asks, still looking at me.

  I stare at the table, trying to stop the rush of blood to my cheeks. It’s not working.

  “Anything,” Mr. Wallace says, thankfully answering for me. “Will Mr. McMillan senior be joining us?”

  “No,” Tyler answers curtly. “I’m taking over the company.”

  “Great,” Mr. Wallace says, laying on the smiles and nods extra thick. Emily looks just as thrilled, and I guess I’m the odd one out. I just can’t shake the knots that are swirling around in my stomach.

  He’s my new boss.

  I slept
with my new boss.

  Shit.

  I’ve worked so hard for the past six years at this company. I clawed my way up from the reception desk to the Chief Operating Officer by working weekends, forgoing my social life, and doing basically the complete opposite of what my hippie parents did throughout their lives, and I feel sick that I might have thrown it all away over one drunken mistake.

  “I’ll be handling the acquisition,” Tyler says. He pauses for a second and then continues. “And all of the necessary restructuring.”

  The three of us gulp at the same time.

  Tyler’s company, McMillan Worldwide Inc., is a company eater, a huge monster of a corporation that thrives on swallowing smaller companies and then tearing them to pieces. They are known for buying up manufacturing companies and then restructuring them by closing all of their plants and factories, only to reopen them overseas where the labor is cheaper and the profits are bigger.

  The company I work for, Hospitech, is their most recent victim. We do important work manufacturing specialized hospital equipment that saves thousands of lives every year.

  And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let the corporate monster take us down without a fight.

  I stare Tyler dead in the eyes—his beautiful, mesmerizing, jade green eyes. “And by restructuring, you mean closing our factory down and shipping it overseas?”

  He leans back as he holds my eyes from across the table. He’s trying to get a read on me, probably wondering why the girl who had her legs behind her head for him last night is now starting to attack.

  “The Hospitech factory has been in the town of Summerland for eighteen years,” I explain. “It’s the main source of work for the residents. If you close the factory, there will be no more jobs for the people of the town. The local businesses will fail, the whole economy of the small town will collapse.”

  My body starts tensing up as I picture having to hand out fifteen hundred and ninety-two pink slips to the loyal factory workers. The town would be devastated. It would never recover.

  I start to sweat as I picture every little shop in town closing one by one: Camilla’s bakery that makes the best gingerbread cookies on the planet, George’s auto shop, which has the only mechanic who is incapable of lying, and the little mom-and-pop hardware store owned by Brenda and Pete. Pete is so nice that he even insisted on installing the Christmas lights that I bought from his store.

  “He never said anything about closing down the factory,” Mr. Wallace says, defending the new boss already. “Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  I sit back in my chair, grinding my teeth as I look over at Mr. Wallace. He’s nodding at Tyler with a big fake smile on his face. This guy is always looking out for himself and only himself. He knows what’s going to happen here, but he’s not going to do a thing to stop it. All he wants is a job in the new restructured company, and as long as that happens, he doesn’t care if the factory gets shut down and all fifteen hundred and ninety-two workers get a thank you, a sympathetic smile, and a pat on the ass as they’re ushered out the door for good.

  If he won’t fight for our employees, then I will. I’m not letting them go down without a fight.

  “Are you going to close the factory?” I ask, staring Tyler down and challenging him to lie.

  “We haven’t decided on that yet.”

  “But it’s a possibility,” I fire back.

  “We haven’t decided on that yet,” he just repeats.

  “Who is we?” I ask. “I thought you were taking over the company. Don’t you make those decisions?”

  Emily is looking at me like I’m crazy, but I can’t stop. Maybe it’s the hangover, maybe it’s the embarrassment of having slept with my new boss, maybe it’s the rumored layoffs, maybe it’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about his bright red underwear and the way that it fit so snuggly around his muscular thighs and nice big cock, or maybe it’s all those things, but my claws are out and I’m attacking my new boss.

  Career self-destruct in three, two, one…

  Tyler smiles, and I hate that it sends a flood of warmth surging through me. “You have every right to be concerned about your job and the jobs of your coworkers,” he says, clasping his hands on the desk in front of him. The sleeves of his tailored suit slide up his forearms giving me a glimpse of his tattooed skin underneath. I can see the bottom of a green stem that leads up to a tattooed rose.

  I know that it’s a tattooed rose because a quick memory of last night flashes into my mind, making me cringe—Tyler’s muscular body hovering over mine as he slides deep inside of me. I moan as I turn my head on the pillow, gasping as I look at the beautiful rose tattooed on his forearm.

  “I do make the decisions,” he says, staring me down. “But I do consult my father before any major decisions are made. My father started McMillan Worldwide Inc. when he bought a failing ashtray manufacturing plant back in nineteen seventy-one. I’m not sure if you’ve been paying attention, but he built it into a billion-dollar company. I’d be stupid not to listen to his advice.”

  “Even if his advice means destroying a whole town?” I ask, feeling my face get warm. “Entire families without jobs, no food to put on the table, no money to buy diapers or pay the bills?”

  Emily leans over. “Tone it down, Dahlia,” she whispers.

  Tyler sighs and turns to Mr. Wallace. “I thought this was just supposed to be a meet and greet.”

  “It was,” Mr. Wallace says, bowing and shaking his head like a servant trying to appease an angry king. “I apologize profusely.” He turns to me with a look that warns me I’m going to pay for it all later.

  Tyler turns back to me and grins. “No harm done,” he says, smirking at me. “I like your spirit. McMillan Worldwide Inc. needs more people like you, people who will fight for what they believe in and fight for their employees.”

  Yeah, right. He’s saying this now to save face, but I’ll probably be the first to go.

  “It’s been nice meeting you all,” he says, pushing his chair away from the conference desk and standing up. Mr. Wallace jumps up so fast that his chair topples over behind him.

  “I’d like to invite you all to stay for a few days,” Tyler says, “while we figure things out. I’ll be working here as well.”

  “I’d love to stay here and work with you,” Emily says, pressing her tits out for him. She’s my best friend in the office and one of my only friends outside of work, but for some reason, I hate her and I want to claw her eyes out.

  “That’s good to hear.” Tyler turns to me and grins. “And don’t worry, Mrs. Dahlia. I’ll be keeping it groovy.”

  Every cell in my body is screaming at me to look down at the table, but I hold his gaze, glaring back at him.

  I want to get back to the East Coast factory where I work and live so that I can forget about this little blip in my flawless career, but I’m not about to leave this careless driver at the wheel of my company without my supervision. So, I guess I’ll be working here in the West Coast sales office for a few days. I just hope my first week in Vegas goes better than my first night.

  I’m still not sure what the hell happened.

  “I’ll be seeing you all around.” Tyler nods and then leaves the conference room.

  “What the hell was that?” Emily asks me as soon as the door is shut.

  Mr. Wallace looks furious. “That was highly inappropriate. That is our new boss! How do you think that made our company look?”

  “It’s not our company anymore,” I say, taking a deep breath to try and calm the blood boiling up inside of me. I’m wound a little too tight at the moment.

  “You’re not even going to have a job if you continue on like this,” he snaps.

  I’m not in the mood to listen to one of his lectures.

  “Oh, go listen to some Kenny Loggins,” I say, marching to the door.

  He slaps the table, clearly offended as I storm out of the room. “Kenny Loggins is a musical genius!” he shouts. “
A genius!”

  Tyler is in the middle of the office surrounded by smiling faces. They’re all looking up at him like he’s a famous rockstar and not the douchebag that I know he is.

  Oh, well. At least he’ll be out of your life soon because there’s no way he’ll let you keep your job after that little outburst.

  I fight back exhausted, hungover tears as I lower my head and slink back into my temporary office.

  All thirty-eight employees laugh at Tyler’s joke that probably isn’t funny as I close the door behind me.

  Less than twenty-four hours in Sin City, and I’ve already slept with my boss and torpedoed my career.

  Emily’s warning on the plane keeps ringing in my pounding head: Some people just can’t handle Vegas.

  I should have listened.

  Because I am definitely one of those people.

  3

  Dahlia

  “You fucked him?!?” Emily screams, wayyyyy too loud.

  “Will you shut up?” I scream in a whisper back to her. I jump up from behind my desk and rush to the window of my closed office, looking out in a panic to see if anyone heard.

  Martha turns to me with a disapproving look on her miserable face, but no one else seems to have heard.

  “I can’t believe you fucked him,” Emily says, staring at me in shock. “You lucky bitch! I totally wanted to fuck him.”

  “You still can.” I say it with a shrug like I don’t care at all, but I definitely do. My fingers twisting into claws ready to scratch her eyes out are proof of that.

  “What was it like?” she asks, staring at me as she gives me her complete attention. She’s sitting on my desk, turning as she watches me walk back to my chair and plop down.

  “I don’t remember anything,” I say, rubbing my throbbing temples. “I woke up with no memory of the night before, but we were both naked and we definitely had sex.” My sore hoo-ha is proof of that.

  “Maybe he roofied you,” Emily says, staring at me with wide eyes. “You’re so lucky.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, closing my eyes. Why are the lights so bright in here? I didn’t realize the West Coast office is located on the surface of the sun.