Scanning the kitchen, I find the only available stool barely able to move due to its weight.
I have to move it, though, or I won’t be drinking any more vodka tonight.
Gritting my teeth, I try to drag it over the tiles, but the sound is deafening.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Blake crosses his arms from the top of the stairs, his gaze hardening as he takes in the scene.
“You,” I mutter, pointing at him. “Come and make yourself useful.”
Blake does a double-take, refusing to move. “What are you doing?” he repeats, a smile playing on his lips.
He’s wearing grey shorts and nothing else, and it’s taking everything I have to control Drunk Danielle.
“I need your height,” I say, swaying. “Come on, Blake.”
Blake moves down the stairs effortlessly, his muscles moving beautifully beneath his olive skin. “What do you want?” Blake eyes the cupboard behind me, reaching for the vodka with ease. “You want this?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, reaching for the bottle unsuccessfully.
Blake holds it out of my reach, his gaze pinning me to the spot.
“Only if you share.”
CHAPTER 17
BLAKE
The hum of the alcohol in my body is soothing, and if it wasn’t for Danielle singing along to some shit on the television, it might even be peaceful.
“Do you remember this song?”
I shake my head.
Drunk Danielle is much more fun to be around than Office Danielle or Wife Danielle.
“You’re no fun, Blake James.”
I roll my eyes as Danielle crawls over to me, a stupid grin on her face.
“Am I Danielle James now? You always said I would be.”
She’s drunk.
I’m drunk.
“Hmm, maybe we should call it a night,” I suggest, attempting to rise to my feet.
Danielle looks up at me, the smile on her face fading when I turn to leave.
I stop, trying not to remember the last time we were in this position.
“I don’t want to go to bed.” Danielle sighs, leaning back against the sofa. “Do you think Issac will be awake?”
It’s an innocent enough question, but not for me.
Not while I’m this drunk.
“Why?” I slur, holding onto the sofa. “Want him to come and fuck you again?”
