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“I already took care of it. Let’s go.” He took her by the arm, his fingers gently grasping her elbow as he steered her out of the bar. She said good-bye to Russ and waved at a few of the patrons, men she’d known for what felt like forever.
She was a little wobbly on her feet, and she was glad Tate had a hold of her as he escorted her out to the parking lot. That and she liked the way she felt when he touched her. Her head buzzed. Her blood heated. Her stomach swam with nerves and anticipation—of what, she wasn’t actually sure, but wasn’t that the best part? That she didn’t know what might happen when Tate took her home?
Her mind practically spun with the endless possibilities . . .
“Here we go,” he said as they slowed down near his black SUV. He had a nice car. He had a nice everything, truth be told. And clearly she was drunk because she had her head tilted to the side so she could check out his nice ass. Totally rude. Totally blatant.
But she totally didn’t care.
Wren started giggling, and she pressed her fingers against her lips to stifle the sound. But she couldn’t stop it—or help it. She started laughing harder when Tate let go of her arm and opened the passenger side door.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, that adorable frown of his making her melt a little inside. He was cute when he was frustrated.
“Nothing.” She tried her best to look sincere but failed when a hiccup escaped her. “I’m, um . . . ” She mentally searched for the right word.
“Drunk?” he offered, his frown evaporating and giving way to a smile. One of those I’ll-take-care-of-you-even-though-you’re-smashed-type smiles. Hmm, like maybe she was an idiot and he was losing patience dealing with her.
Uh-oh. Was he?
“Am I a pain?” she asked him once they were both settled inside his car. His scent lingered, and she breathed deep, savoring it. She could sit in his car forever and never get sick of smelling him.
Looking at him.
Her thoughts were . . . random. Definitely not normal. Tomorrow she’d probably go back to disliking him, but tonight she’d contemplate making a move on him. It was the alcohol talking. It made her bold. It made her stupid.
What would he do if she grabbed him?
She was leaning across the console when he finally said something.
“What do you mean?” He started the car and threw it into Reverse, glancing over his shoulder before his gaze met hers.
Up close, those pretty green eyes of his were extra intense. They sort of made her forget what she wanted to say. “Um, having to babysit me and drive me home. You probably have better things to do with your time.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Uh-huh.” That’s what they all said. She’d been in this predicament before. Once one of Lane’s friends had to take her home from a party after she’d passed out on the couch. He’d begrudged the situation the entire drive back to her place, grumbling under his breath how he wasn’t getting paid to be a babysitter, so why was he being treated like one?
Ouch. The memory stung. Of course, she’d been all of twenty, and Lane had been furious when he caught her drinking. Like he didn’t get drunk all the time before he turned legal age. Though her big brother was a pretty straight arrow. That’s why they could always count on him to handle family stuff when it went south . . .
“Your brain is just a-workin’ over there, isn’t it?” Tate gently teased, bringing her back to the here and now. “Seriously, Robin. I don’t mind driving you home. It’s no big deal.”
He was still calling her bird names, and it sucked. It sucked bad. She was tired of the other birds and the teasing and the pretend hate for each other. Though he never seemed to really hate her . . . more like she was the one who always acted like she hated him.
And she did. She so did. Because he made her want to do and say things she had no business wanting to do or say. He was a player—by his own admittance. She’d heard those words fall from his very perfect lips, and while she found him impossibly sexy, she also found him impossible. Men like Tate reminded her of her father.
That was the last type of man she wanted to be with. She’d witnessed her mother suffering through her crap marriage her whole life. Her entire family was in shambles, and it could all be traced back to her father.
A sobering thought, completely different from what her drunk mind was coming up with only moments before. So yeah. She didn’t want a man like him. Not really. She didn’t even want to fool around with a man who behaved like her fath
er. That wasn’t tempting at all.
Not one freaking bit.
TATE COULDN’T STOP sneaking glances at Wren, who was sitting so incredibly still with her eyes closed that he wondered if she was, um, alive?
But every few minutes she’d snore, a soft little snuffling sound that was kinda cute and reminded him that, yep, she was very much breathing. And willingly riding in his car so he could take her home. If it was any other woman, he’d be contemplating the many ways he could seduce her into his bed. How fast could he get her clothes off? How quick could he make her come? How long could he last once he was inside her? Because it had been a while since he’d been with someone, and this was Wren, after all. He’d quietly lusted after her for what felt like forever.
He had a hot woman who drove him crazy sitting in his car, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. No way would he take advantage of her. She was buzzed. Not sloppy drunk, but still. She was sleeping, for the love of God.
