Shit! “Relax, Allie, you’re okay.” Tristan sat on an armchair, reading a paper. A mug of warm liquid steamed at the table. I smelled coffee. How in the world did I end up in Tristan Cross’s hotel room? And in his bed? I shut my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to remember what exactly had happened. Shit! My mother. And a lot of smooth tequila. Shit, shit, shit! “I’m so sorry, I have to get home. My mother...” I flipped the covers off, then quickly pulled them back up. Apparently, I was naked. My little show didn’t go unnoticed. A hungry rumble sounded from where Cross was sitting. “Your mother is fine. She knows where you are.” “You spoke with my mother?” I asked, suddenly feeling ill at the thought. What would my mother think of me? That I’d told a stranger where she lived? That I’d failed to protect her once again. And, worst of all, I hadn’t come home for the night and slept in his hotel room. She must have been worried; or had she? I’d never discussed any relationships with my mother, especially the sexual ones.
