Loren’s friend still doesn’t look convinced. “You swear you won’t touch her?”
I hold up three fingers. At least I think it’s supposed to be three. “Scout’s honor.”
“Let me see your license.”
I take out my wallet, and the woman snaps a photo of my ID. Knowing she’s looking after Loren like this makes me feel a little better. There are a lot of shitheads out there. I’m glad they’re being careful.
As I tuck my license back into my pocket, I ask if she needs a lift home as well.
“No, I’m good. I called a ride share. Is my car okay here tonight?”
“There are cameras on the lot, so it should be fine.”
With that, she gives Loren a smack on the ass before disappearing into the frigid night.
I hang the cloths and towels on the edge of the sink, then shoot my cousin a glance. “You good to lock up?”
“Yeah, man. Get that girl home.”
Loren is in her own little world, not even realizing there’s no longer any music playing. The curls at her temples drip with sweat, and she’s pulled the rest of her hair onto the top of her head. She looks like mayhem wrapped in one very sexy green package. “Come on, Chaos. Time to go.”
Loren blinks at me, the hands that were twisting and flailing above her head slowly falling as she glances around the empty bar. “Where’s Meg?”
“Went home to bed, I imagine.”
“She left me here with you?”
“Why do you make it sound like it’s the worst fate in the world?”
“Because it is.”
Here I am, trying to be nice, and this is the thanks I get? Next time, remind me not to bother.
I hunch down so she can drape her arm across my shoulders, and together we walk to where I parked around the back of the bar.
At least I walk. Loren stumbles like a newborn foal.
Or a baby giraffe.
Yeah, that’s what she is. A baby giraffe. What are baby giraffes called?
Leaning her against the side of the vehicle, I fish out my keys. “Don’t puke in my truck, okay?” That shit is impossible to get out of the carpet. Don’t ask me how I know.
Let’s just say it involves August and tequila.
“Please. I’m not going to puke.”
That remains to be seen. If I drank what she did tonight, I’d absolutely be introducing the contents of my stomach to the toilet when I got home. Work is going to suck for herifshe makes it. Right now, it’s not looking very promising.
She catches the handle and yanks before I’ve had a chance to unlock the damn door.
I press the button on my keys and hear the mechanism click, but Loren yanks at the same time and won’t stop. “Hands off.”
She throws her hands up in the air like I’m about to frisk her, and fuck, if that doesn’t put some dirty thoughts in my mind. Like how good it’d feel to press those black-tipped fingers to the window, and kick her heels wider so I could slide my hands from her dainty ankles, over the swell of her calf and knee, up her inner thigh to?—
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Eyes on the skies, Elliott. You are not touching this woman.
