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“Dami is my pershunal bartender.” More slurred words leaked from her cherry pink lips and I would kill my cousin later.
I cupped the back of Taylor Jane’s head to get a good look in her bottomless blue eyes, holding the rest of her body up comfortably against my side. Yup, definitely drunk, and definitely a hangover tomorrow. It would be a miracle if she didn’t throw up at all. My head shook on its own, disapproving.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of….” I dragged her from
the living room to the kitchen. “Let’s get you some water, and find a place to lay you down.”
“But it’s my party, Hunter….” Taylor whined and pulled back to stomp her foot. Holding back my irritation, no longer amused, I partly hoped she did throw up some of this alcohol, preferably before I put her in my truck.
“And I’m telling you the party is over for now, at least for you anyway.”
She was way too inebriated to be left on her own, and I didn’t want her staying in the house alone, possibly hurting herself or falling down drunk on what was still a construction site deep in progress. Hell, we shouldn’t even have people over here for this social event. We were breaking a few laws somewhere and all we needed was that damn cop who had a hard on for Damien to be working tonight and showing up.
Pausing, I looked for my wayward cousin. “Damien. I regret to inform you that you are in charge. Party’s over, folks… and put that damn door back up when you’re done. It’s a friggen antique.”
A chorus of whines followed and I lifted Taylor Jane over my shoulder to carry her outside, praying her stomach didn’t heave all over my back. I felt the heat of her little body perched up on my shoulder and I had to fight back a smile as I turned the corner, almost knocking my date—the one I’d technically brought down.
“Party’s over, I’m afraid.” I left the explanation hanging in the air between my charge’s moans and Brit’s exasperated pout. I couldn’t even say I was sorry that we were finally going.
Brit fell behind following us, her voice witchy and demanding. “Are you leaving me here?”
If the thought hadn’t crossed my mind before it certainly did now.
“Not if you want to leave now, but I need to see Taylor Jane safely to a bed.”
“Right, yours or hers?” She blocked the doorway with her arms crossed and pissed.
I should have probably cared, but I couldn’t conjure up enough positive feelings about her to change my decision. Besides the easy and fun sex, I wasn’t sure what I had really seen in Brit to begin with besides a safe distraction I’d visited before. She was annoying most of the time, too needy, and I realized that I must not have been that picky about sex if I was keeping Brit around to keep me away from someone else who was wiggling over my shoulder at the moment.
On a sigh, I answered her first question. “If you want to leave now, I will drop you off at your place, and if not, I’m sure Damien will eventually sober up in about an hour to take you home.”
“I’m so over with you, Hunter Hart.” She had the grace of a pissed pony stung by a hornet to stomp her feet on the porch, cracking a rotted floor board… which I would have to fix tomorrow so no one fell through. It was safe to say Brit would take the whole house down if she could in retaliation.
“I’m glad it never really began, Brit. Now are you coming or staying? I’d really like to get Taylor Jane settled before she barfs all over me or my truck.”
“Uhhhh, don’t say that word.” The body over my shoulder groaned, and I patted her ass to keep her still. Between Brit’s eyes rounding like dinner plates and realizing the firm skin under my hand was my best friend, this had nowhere left to go but downhill. I didn’t remove my hand either and smiled, waiting for the shit storm to hit either in front of me or down my back.
“I’m not getting in the car with you. Your friend smells like a damn bar.”
I turned my head slightly into her side resting placidly for the moment over my shoulder. If anything, Taylor Jane smelled sweet like candied fruit.
“Suit yourself.” Shrugging, I headed back outside with one drunken BFF over my shoulder, who remained remarkably quiet until now. Opening the truck, I lowered her to sit in the seat, belting her in.
“Did you just sniff my ass?” Taylor Jane quietly asked me, her brows furrowed and eyes searching.
“Yeah, I guess I did. Your pants at least. You smell like candy. What were you drinking? Or what spilled on you?” My hand felt sticky and the conversation was strangely normal as I got her secured inside the cab of the truck, brushing tacky hair off her face.
It took her a moment to answer me as she looked out the window, a wistful expression on her face. “Damien made these Alabama Slammers and Midouri Sours.”
“Ah, that explains it.” Sure did, that and whatever perfume she was wearing tonight. Something I would have named Siren’s call because if I was a ship she would have capsized me in her wake.
“I hope she’s not that bitchy when you’re giving her the D.” Only Taylor Jane could put it that way. “Does she ever shut up?” She was so drunk I doubted she’d remember this conversation asking if I gave Brittany the dick. Part of me wondered if she would actually say the word in front of me or not. Taylor Jane was a riot when alcohol loosened her tongue and strait laces. Her assessment of Brit, however, was spot-on and I laughed out loud.
“That’s probably why I only let her suck it as you so nicely stated.”
“Pffft. Eww.” She was flailing her arms, and I grabbed them before she made herself sick from the movement. Sure enough the green pallor returned and I held her still, letting her work this out. “Everyone knows you’ve got a big one, Hunter. Everyone has seen it except for me.” She was in full-on brat pout, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell Taylor Jane meant by that.
Does she want to see it?
