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Damian tried to put an arm around me but missed and almost fell over.
I slapped a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "What are you doing? You two are wasted. At ten o'clock in the morning."
"Knew you were smart," he said, slapping his hand on top of mine on his shoulder. "You're so perty. Can we have sex now?"
Maybe I should've been more annoyed about their current state, but there wasn't any point in getting upset. Not until they sobered up. "Yeah, sure, let's go into your wagon of love and get it on. If you can crawl up the steps without vomiting."
He thrust out his free hand to me, turning it upside down. "Read my palm, hey? Tell me the foocher."
I assumed he meant "future," but it was hard to tell for sure. I patted his cheek. "That's easy. Your future involves a good long nap, lots of aspirin, and at least three days of groveling for forgiveness." I threw a sharp look at Ollie. "For both of you."
Mara was standing perfectly still, her gaze nailed to Ollie, her expression blank.
"You okay, Mara?" I asked.
She nodded. "I've never seen him like this. Why did you get drunk, Ollie? Don't you want to marry me?"
"Like crazy I do," he said, then he dropped to his knees and hugged hers. "I'm sorry, Mary—Mara. That's your name, right? I'm Awee. Sweet wittle pudgy-wudgy Awee."
Mara covered her face with her hands.
I thought she might be crying—until she lowered her hands.
Her lips were puckered, clearly because she was trying not to laugh.
"No, no, no," Damian said. "It's sweet wittle cuddly wuddly Awee, fuddly muddly...something."
I looked at Mara. "Why don't you take Ollie to your room so he can sleep it off?"
"Good idea." She peeled Ollie's hands away from her knees and convinced him to stand up. "Time for bed, honey."
He let her lead him away, leaning against her the whole time.
Damian latched his arms around my waist. "Is it my bedtime too?"
"Yes, it is." I half dragged him toward the guest house but changed my mind partway there and took him to the wagon. "Naughty little Damian needs some beddy-bye time."
"Oh yeah," he said, "lots and lots of that. Will you tuck me in, Heidi-hi-ho?"
"Uh-huh." After that, he'd have some serious explaining to do.
I managed to get him up the steps and into the wagon, but he careened toward the bench and fell onto it face-first—and promptly passed out. I pushed him onto his side, then grabbed a blanket and draped it over him. By then, he was snoring. What else could I do? I stretched out on the pillows on the floor and waited for him to wake up. Luckily, he had a laptop computer that was hooked into the resort's wi-fi, so I streamed movies while he snored.
Three hours later, he woke up.
Damian yawned loudly, stretched without moving much at all, and groaned. He squinted at me. "On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you?"
"Zero."
His brows rose, but then he winced as if that little action hurt. "Guess I should explain."
I shut the laptop and sat up, holding the computer on my lap. "Yeah, that might be a good idea."
"You see, Ollie was stressed out. And I couldn't think of a way to help him relax and stop worrying so much." He wriggled around until he was lying on his back and rubbed his forehead. "Admittedly, this wasn't my best idea ever."
"No kidding? Huh." I splayed my palms on the computer, tapping my fingertips on it. "So tell me, Your Ludar Highness, what exactly did you hope to accomplish by getting the two of you hammered? I'm assuming that was the plan."
"Yeah, it was." He shrugged. "I wasn't doing much thinking at the time. My best friend needed help, so I, uh…helped." Damian glanced at me sideways, looking almost sheepish. "Ollie was a lot happier after we pigged out and got smashed."
