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Erin stops dead in her tracks and glares at Carter, full-on attitude with her hands on her hips. “Do you give Lan those same warnings, pal?”
His face burns red, and he grits his jaw as he stands off against Erin, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gonna look real good when the DA gets slammed in the drunk tank, counselor.”
“Fuck you, Ociffer.”
“Three … two…”
She groans and stumbles toward us. “You really are the Fun Police,” she grits as she climbs into the back.
>
“Thank fuck!” Carter growls as he rips the driver door open and climbs in.
I stare at the truck for a second, pondering, then I smack the top of the cab. “Brother…”
Carter turns and looks out the window. “Dude, get the hell in or I’ll leave your ass. I’ve had enough of Tag tonight.”
“Where the hell do you suppose I ride at?” He turns and looks in the back seat, his head then tipping toward the heavens.
“Fuck.”
“Just tell Laney to ride in the back with the girls.”
He nudges Laney, whose face is pressed against the window, drool dribbling down the glass.
“Who’s ridin’ on Mad’s lap?” Carter turns to the girls and asks. Fuck me runnin’.
“Yeah, I can call a Lyft,” I relent, turning to walk down the sidewalk as I pull my phone from my pocket.
“Mad!” I turn back as Carter climbs out of the cab.
“Fuck, what?” I shout, irritated. It’s late, and I’m just ready to be home and away from these drunks. He motions me toward him as he opens the back door and ushers Erin then Jordan out.
“We can all fit.” Erin climbs back inside the truck and Jordan stands there, arms clasped over her chest as if she’s cold, waiting.
I look from Jordan to Carter then back to Jordan. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”
“Dude, Bryn doesn’t know you. Erin is married. It’s innocent,” Carter persuades.
“You fuckin’ owe me after this hellacious night.” I point at Carter. “Move your fuckin’ seat forward so I have some damn room,” I order. He quickly pulls his seat forward and waits while I climb in the back. I hold my hand out to Jordan and help pull her up into the cab, awkwardly positioning her onto my lap. Carter slams the back door shut then climbs in the driver seat, smacking the steering wheel.
Carter pulls the truck from the curb, traffic in the Historic District bumper to bumper. He tunes the stereo in to fill the silence, Erin now slumped over on Bryn, the two out cold. Jordan sits ram-rod straight, and I’m not entirely sure where to put my hands. She glances back and smiles bashfully. This can’t be any more comfortable for her as it is me, and we’re friendly so I might as well be … well … a friend. Carefully, I place my hand on her hip, and she startles, turning to look back at me. I motion for her to lean into me, and she shifts on my lap turning toward her side. As she leans against my chest, she whispers, “Sorry, Madden.”
“No worries. We’ll be back to the island soon.”
Jordan falls silent, and I’m not sure if she’s fallen asleep like the others or avoiding conversation. The drive is uneasy, but we make it out of the city and hit Highway 80 quickly. My leg is going to sleep under Jordan’s weight, so I lift my hip trying to adjust her on my lap. She rolls her head against my shoulder, her delicate lip grazing my ear as she whispers, “Is that your phone in your pocket, or are you happy I’m on your lap?” She giggles, her head falling slack against my shoulder.
Fuck. She’s drunk, Madden. Vulnerable. Has no idea what the hell she’s saying. I lean my head against the rest, having nowhere else to go, and exhale a deep breath to calm the spur of hormones raging through me. Please don’t get a fuckin’ hard-on. She wiggles her ass against my lap, and I pierce my teeth into my cheek to suppress a primal groan.
“Madden,” she coos, twisting to face me, when we hit a pothole and her face contorts in disgust as she projectile vomits in my face.
*~*
“Thank you so much, Mr. Davenport, Mr. Kincaid. The kitchen is gorgeous,” Mr. Peterson says, shaking my hand then Carter’s. “I’m sure there will be more projects in the near future, so we’ll keep Davenport Construction in mind.”
We’re just finishing the walk-through on the Peterson project. Mrs. Peterson is underwhelmed with the finish on the cabinets, but Mr. Peterson reminded her it was her choice, after only changing her mind four times. Or was it three? I’ve lost count. I didn’t expect him to call her on her indecisiveness with us present, but even I was over this project, and I didn’t manage it—Carter did.
Carter and I see ourselves out and head to the company truck. We left Mav to start a new project with Carter’s crew, hoping I can trust him to manage projects with a crew on his own. I’d like to eventually move Carter to managing my crew so I can oversee all company projects and only be onsite when necessary. It’s hard to give up the control, but there are so many other things that need my attention.
