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Chapter Two
Seeing the shock and hurt on her face, Blake flinched inwardly.
You’re an asshole.
Maybe. But he was an asshole who didn’t sleep with drunk women. That, hopefully, could be argued to be a good thing.
“I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret, Kristen. I don’t take advantage of women who’ve been drinking.”
The hurt on her face turned to mortification. “There would be no taking advantage. If anything, I’d be the one taking advantage.”
The confidence in her tone had him smothering a laugh. He couldn’t quite manage it, though, and it turned into a cough.
Her brows drew together, and her cute mouth curled into an adorable frown.
“Look, you seem like a cool girl. And I’m definitely into what we just had going on, but I think tonight might not be the right time.”
It sounded like she muttered, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. It has to be tonight.”
And that just sounded suspicious. Was he some kind of bet? Had Kristen and her friend taken a bet on if she could get him into bed tonight? A dare?
Wary of whatever she was up to, he sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. While his brain had shut down the road to the bedroom, his dick struggled to get the message.
The no drunk chicks rule was hard and fast, and he’d never been tempted to break it before. But remembering her soft breast in his hand and the sweet way she kissed, he was tempted to say fuck it. Clearly, she wanted to get laid.
“Sorry, I can’t in good conscience do this when you’ve had too much to drink.” He repeated the words aloud, through clenched teeth, like a vow.
“I see.” She nodded, and color surged in her cheeks. “Well, yay me for choosing the damn Boy Scout who looks like a porn star.”
She spun on her boot heel and strode back to the house, opening the sliding glass and slamming it a little too hard. She clearly realized it because she winced and looked momentarily guilty before glaring at him through the glass and then stalking her way upstairs.
And with a not-quite-steady walk, he thought grimly.
Shit.
Thrusting a hand through his hair, he followed after her. He needed to make sure she was okay and met back up with her friend.
He found Kristen upstairs wandering around the room. She grabbed another red cup full of beer, downed it in a few swallows, and then set it down, coughing.
If she hadn’t been drunk before, it seemed to be her goal now. Great, he’d set her off. She scowled and looked around the room.
He lingered back, giving her space but keeping an eye on her. She started walking again, moving in and out of each room, looking more irritated with each passing moment.
Her friend seemed to be MIA.
As he watched, Kristen sent a text on her phone and stared at the screen for at least a minute, clearly waiting for a response. Apparently, none came because she shoved it back into her purse, looking more peeved and striding toward the front door.
His gut twisted, and his blood quickened.
Blake sprinted after her.
“Kristen.”
She paused halfway down the inclined driveway and turned to glance back up at him.
“Got a problem, Boy Scout?”
She really needed to stop calling him that. His mouth tightened as he glanced at her hand, looking for keys.
