Free Blush by Lauren Jameson Page A

than sense
. Maddy had heard the saying once, and she was pretty sure that it had been coined with Alex Fraser in mind.
    “Fuck you, Alex Fraser.” Of course, the bottle of wine didn’t respond, instead sitting where it was, mocking her with its intrusion into her life.
    She was tempted to pack the thing back up, drive to Alex’s casino in Vegas, and dump the box in the middle of one of his blackjack tables. He’d made her feel things that she hadn’t even known she was capable of and then cut her off at the knees, insisting it was for her own good.
    If she wanted to do something stupid, well, that was her decision, damn it.
    So instead of returning the wine, she uncorked the bottle, grabbed a juice tumbler and her iPod, and headed for the bathroom.
    As hot water poured into her worn porcelain bathtub, she poured her first glass of the delectable wine. It tasted just as good out of a cheap tumbler as it had out of a fancy wineglass. The first few slugs fortified her, and she wrapped herself in her bravado as she topped off her glass, added perfumed oil to her bath, and set her iPod to Adele. The singer lectured men about rumors as Maddy cranked the volume as loud as it could go and slid into the water and steam, careful to keep the device outside the water. The heat wrapped around her like a hug, and she snuggled into its embrace.
    Half an hour later, she was warm, relaxed, and more than a little drunk. She also had to pee. As Maddy clambered out of the tub, she drained half the water, then topped it up again with more hot and more scented oil. She felt decadent—though it might have been the wine talking—and decided that she deserved another glass of wine.
    As she stood dripping on the tile, Maddy noticed her phone sitting on the counter. She knew that she was drunk; she knew that she shouldn’t even pick up the thing, but she did anyway.
    She wasn’t quite brave enough to call him, but her fingers, fueled by wine, flew nimbly enough over the keys, as she quickly wrote out a text to Alex.
    U R AN ASS.
    The phone rang no more than a minute later. Surprise, surprise, it was Mr. Fraser. Though her brain had been drenched with wine, she was still coherent enough to wonder why he would bother replying to her drunken, texted insult, since he’d made it so clear that there couldn’t be anything between them.
    Maddy ignored the ringing and clambered back into the bath. She couldn’t achieve the same manner of peace, though, and decided that it was Alex’s fault.
    Her phone rang again and then once more. Then all was silent, her iPod forgotten on the floor, nothing but the
drip, drip, drip
of water into the tub to distract her from her thoughts.
    Maddy shifted uncomfortably in the bath. Alcohol removed the ability to keep her grief at bay, and she felt the sadness and pain creeping back in.
This
was why she didn’t drink often. She felt panic choking her as she remembered what she’d lost, and layered on top of that were thoughts of Alex Fraser, the man who could have made her forget but wouldn’t.
    For once Maddy didn’t cry. She just sat in the tub, exhausted and fighting back emotions that she didn’t want to feel. It felt as if she sat there forever, but in reality it was probably no more than twenty minutes. The water started to cool, and Maddy began to shiver but was loath to move.
    From down the hall, she heard the doorbell chime. Narrowing her eyes, she ignored it. She didn’t know who it was, and she didn’t much care. She didn’t want to see anyone.
    Seconds passed. Then there was a knock, a fist rapping repeatedly against the wood. The knocking continued as, finally curious, Maddy scrambled from the tub.
    “Madeline! Open the door.”
    Holy shit. Alex. Hastily, Maddy wrapped her worn cotton robe around her dripping body, not bothering to dry herself off, and hustled down the hall. The looseness of her muscles from wine and the heat of the bath made walking harder than it normally was, her legs having