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“You know what they say about tequila.”
“What do they say? It makes people think they can dance?” She was certain she’d seen a meme like that somewhere.
Sullivan gave a laugh. It was a rumbling sound deep in his chest. “Exactly. Be careful or you’ll be doing the Macarena in an hour.”
“I really can’t dance. I know that even when I’m drinking.”
He pulled his hat off of his face and studied her, squinting. “Damn. It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Ed.”
Suddenly she realized he was making fun of her for not getting the joke.
There was a song about tequila making clothes fall off.
She got it now. She made a face.
Finn was running up the beach. “Hey, Finn, let’s bury your dad in the sand.”
“Okay!” Finn stopped to his knees and immediately started flinging sand on Sullivan.
Sullivan groaned and put his hands out. “Buddy, not in my face.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Pretty and devious too.”
Edwina smiled at him and grabbed a sand bucket.
Nine hoursand four margaritas for Eddie later, Sullivan decided he needed to take her home. Her nose was red from the sun, her eyes were glassy, and her voice had grown louder and lower in pitch. She sounded like his great aunt Ethel and even that didn’t make her any less sexy. That was a shocking testament to how fucking hot she was.
He’d left Finn with Jesse and Astrid and was interjecting a random, "Uh huh,” here and there as she told him a story about expanding her brand into even racier underwear and how Nigel didn’t think it was appropriate.
He felt like pointing out that the guy who couldn’t make his own woman come was probably uptight, but he’d been keeping his mouth shut all damn day. Eddie was leaving the next day. He wasn’t going to blow it now, at the eleventh hour, and upset her.
But then she said, “There are some really beautiful panties now. It’s not the old school crotchless where just everything is missing. It’s an intentionally subtle slit.”
He parked his truck, stared at the back of his sun visor and told himself he deserved this torture for all his years of having sex with women whose names he couldn’t remember. He chanced a glance over at Eddie. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. She was demonstrating what she meant by “slit.”
Her index finger was going up and down between her thighs. “You know what I mean, right?”
Holy shit…
“Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Are you drunk?”
Eddie giggled. “No. Of course not.”
He was pretty damn sure she was a little drunk.
She shoved at the car door with her shoulder and nearly fell out onto the driveway when it flew open.
Maybe a lot drunk.
“Christ.” He jumped out of his trunk to run around and help her. He felt partially responsible for her getting loaded.
He had talked her into leaving her work behind and he’d pushed her off the dock. Which seemed to have sent her into a margarita spiral. She hadn’t appreciated seeing him naked, which was either a sign she thought he was a disgusting human being, or she wanted him and was afraid of those feelings. He was betting it was the latter, which made him feel smug, even if she’d looked at his dick like a terrified virgin.
Eddie was holding onto the open door of the truck, but she straightened up. “I feel amazing, Sullivan.”
“Enjoy it while you can.” She was going to feel like shit the next day, he could almost guarantee that.
“I am enjoying it.” Maybe she wasn’t as drunk as he’d thought. She was walking straight and she wasn’t slurring her words. “I had a perfect day, thank you.”
That did things to his insides. “I’m glad I got to spend some time with you before you leave tomorrow.”
