Of happiness. Excitement. Tenderness.

Coming to her feet, she turned the faucet on and let the water trickle into her hands before patting some on her face. She scooped the water, ready to bring it to her mouth when she remembered where she was. No, she couldn’t risk getting a parasite. She already felt like she was dying. What she needed was some bottled water. The bottled water from her purse outside the bathroom.

Was he out there?

In her rush to get out of bed, Payton hadn’t processed if she was alone in the bed or if someone else had been next to her.

Sneaking to the bathroom door, something she’d somehow found the will to shut before kissing the porcelain throne, she pulled it open far enough to look out.

The bed was empty. No. The whole room was empty.

Maybe it had all been a dream. Something she’d thought about one too many times in her waking hours that took over in her drunken stupor.

Although it didn’t quite explain her nakedness now.

Where was he then?

Grabbing a towel in case he returned, she wrapped herself in it and scurried across the room to grab the water before barricading herself back in the bathroom.

She turned the bathroom light on and for the first time got a glimpse of herself in the mirror and gasped in horror. Her hair was ratted in the back and fell limply around her green-tinged face. Dark raccoon-like rings appeared around her eyes, a combination of mascara, dehydration, and too little rest.

Lord. She was a mess.

What she needed was a shower. A long, hot shower to wash away all the stink and then maybe she’d be able to remember things more clearly.

And it wouldn’t hurt to look human again.

She started the water and tested it before climbing in. Her stomach roiled at the steamy moisture, and she turned it down before letting the water sink into her skin and hair. Giving herself the freedom to pick at her memories. To try and remember how she’d landed herself naked in that bed out there.

The tour of the agave fields and the distillery. That she remembered. A shot of tequila. Dinner down in the cavern beneath the distillery. A second shot of tequila. Candlelight. Conversation. More tequila. Later, dancing with Cruz under the stars. Tequila. The hypnotic gleam in those dark eyes of his, and—

A kiss.

A kiss like she’d never had before, one that made her toes curl and her insides turn hot and squishy. A kiss that had made her hunger for more.

More images started coming to her.

Of Bev and Lenny and Pat and the rest, smiling and teasing them as they caught their kiss. Another shot as they toasted the happy couple. A late night tour of the old church in the town-square. Of several couples making their vows to God and each other before the crowds and a slightly inebriated priest. Of—

She froze. No. Not possible.

But the memory of standing face to face with Cruz, her hands in his as she stared into those dark eyes that promised so much. Seeing him smile, something she’d been determined then and there he would do each and every day as they said the words. Familiar words. Promising loyalty and fidelity. Love. Of promising to take care of each other…

All the days of their lives.

She let out a strangled cry and ripped the shower curtain away and stumbled back out of the tub. Trailing water she slipped her way across the floor and into the bedroom where she studied every surface of the room. She stopped as her gaze fell on a piece of paper tossed carelessly on the nightstand.

Her legs trembled as she walked to the stand, praying it wasn’t true. Her wet fingers lifted the paper and she took a breath before processing the words.

It was in Spanish, but it wasn’t hard to miss her signature below. And Cruz’s. And a few others.

Not even able to understand the words on the document, she knew without out a doubt what it said.

She and Cruz were married. They were husband and wife.

Cruz busied himself filling two cups with coffee at the hotel lobby. He didn’t know how Payton took her coffee, so he grabbed a handful of sugar and sweeteners and creamers and stuffed them in his pocket.

She was going to need the sharp hit of caffeine when she remembered everything from the previous night.

Memories that were still sweeping over him.

He couldn’t believe he’d done something so foolhardy. So spontaneous. So…stupid. Because how else would you qualify marrying someone you barely knew while both people were heavily intoxicated?

See. This was exactly why he went with the expected.

When he awoke this morning, the insides of his skull pounding about, he’d been more than a little stunned to find Payton draped across his chest. It had taken three point four seconds for it all to come back to him.

The kiss.

The special moment of watching other couples making that commitment to each other, of feeling so hopeful and excited at the promise of a future with the woman next to him. Of thinking it could be forever.

The moment she brazenly asked him if he wanted to get up there before God, their new friends, and everyone else who had crowded into the church, and make whatever was happening between them the real deal.

Forever.

God help him, in that moment, he was a goner. He’d said yes.

And then the long night of discovering each other, finalizing their newfound marital bliss. Of her under him, on top of him, of her giving herself to him in every way that he’d been so humbled and proud and filled with such affection he’d lost his breath.

Still did.

Only, the future that had seemed so possible for them both, so attainable last night, somehow in the light of day and without the powerful influence of alcohol seemed like a silly fairy tale. Women like Payton didn’t end up with guys like him.

They ended up with guys like Brad.

And as soon as Payton woke up and remembered everything, she was going to realize that. Realize the mistake she’d made in asking him to be her husband. Maybe she’d even been teasing him, not expecting he’d say yes. Then again, she was drunk and vulnerable. And he should have said no.

Any decent guy, no matter how much his head was clouded with his emotions for the woman, would have said no.

Meaning when he walked into that room, she just might try to kill him.

He took the stairs up, balancing their coffee in his hands along with some aspirin from the front desk, trying to think of what he was going to say.

Then he was at their door and there was no putting off the inevitable.

With the coffees stacked and balanced between his chin and his left hand, he slid the key in and pushed the door open.

She was awake.

And standing naked in the middle of the room, a puddle of water spreading around her feet.

Her eyes lifted from the paper in her hands to meet his, wide and shocked. It was safe to assume she had figured out some of the events of last night.

“Please tell me that this is a trick? That this document doesn’t say what I think it says.”

This was going to take some time. And as much as he enjoyed staring at her lovely naked body—a body he’d become quite familiar with over the past few hours—he was going to need to be thinking clearly. He headed to the bathroom and turned off the water she’d left running before grabbing a towel.

She barely acknowledged his overture, as he tucked it around her. A naked Payton made it hard for him to concentrate. Period.

“I have coffee. Why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll try and figure this out.”

“What’s there to figure out?” Her voice was a couple of octaves higher than usual. “Not only did I spend a drunken night in a hotel room in Mexico with a man I barely know, but I decided to pile on the craziness and marry that man too. I’d say with my track record over the past few days, I might be certifiable. How on earth could you let this happen?”