Page 85 of Dead and Breakfast


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I side-eyed him. “I’m not as drunk as she is.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring, Charlotte.” He started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. “I’ve had women much less drunk than the two of you throw up in the backseat before.”

“Do you often cart drunk women about?”

“I’m a police officer. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds like the women of Fox Point have a drinking problem.”

Noah didn’t bother to hide his laugh. “Given your current state, you’re hardly one to talk.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and looked out the window. How had I ended up in this situation? The last thing I wanted was to be in a car with Noah, much less when I’d had more than my fair share of alcohol tonight.

I was going to regret this tomorrow.

All of it.

The alcohol.

The car.

Just… all of it.

This was why drinking was bad, kids.

I just wasn’t going to talk. At all. I wasn’t going to say a word to him, because I wasn’t sure what words would come out if I did.

“Are you sure your girlfriend won’t jump out of the boot and yell at you for having me in your car?”

Well, there went the not talking thing.

See?

Drunk Charlotte was dumb asfuck.

Sober Charlotte wasn’t that much smarter, honestly, but not that dumb.

Maybe.

Noah chuckled. “No. After you threw the cottage pie thing in her face at the pub, she tore me a new one for letting my grandmother and sister be close to you instead of her. She barely spoke to me for three days.”

“She sounds lovely,” I said airily. “No wonder Gwen can’t stop singing her praises.”

Noah caught his tongue between his teeth, fighting a smile. “Charlotte.”

“What? I’ve barely said a word to her, and she has a problem with me.”

“Of course, she has a problem with you. You’re my ex.”

“Hardly,” I scoffed. “We were kids. Normal people don’t count kid relationships as anything that serious.”

“We were together for almost the entirety of our teen years. How does that not count?”

“Because we were stupid teenagers.”

“It still counts.”

“Sounds like someone wants to pad his numbers,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. We’re different people now.”

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