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I couldn’t stop the next laugh that roughed from my lungs. Hanging my head to hide the smile breaking across my face, I waited until I’d composed myself before meeting her bleary stare again. “Hi, Maci. Baby, do you know what apartment you’re in?”
“Where’d you come from?” she asked her massive purse as she took it off her shoulder and let it fall to the floor.
I just fought the smile still threatening at the edges of my mouth and repeated my question. “Maci, do you know what apartment you’re in?”
Her bloodshot eyes shifted back to me and widened when she realized I was there all over again. “Connor! Connor, hi. I wanted to come home, and then—here am I! I am? Hey, Sam I am!” Pointing at herself, she shook her head and leaned close to whisper, “I’m not Sam.” A giggle shook her shoulders as she kicked off her shoes, grabbed the bottom of her shirt, and started to pull it up.
“Stop. Stop undressing,” I said quickly and grabbed her hands to keep them from going any higher. “Maci, do you know you’re in my apartment?”
She looked around for a second, a crease forming between her eyebrows even as she nodded, and then she was leaning all the way over to whisper, “Did you bring me here?” to a pillow.
“Did you drive home?”
“Ooo, I love him,” she muttered as she rubbed her cheek against the pillow. “He’s soft, and my face is in love with him.”
“Jesus Christ, Maci, it’s a pillow.” I sat her up and gripped her chin between my fingers, forcing her to look at me as I demanded, “Tell me if you drove home.”
Another giggle poured from her until she was laughing loudly and leaning into my bare chest. “Of course not, Detective Green.”
Thank God.
“Then who drove you home, Mace? Was it Amber?”
Maci straightened so abruptly that I was afraid she was about to throw up, but she just looked around, pointing at random things in my apartment. “No, Amber...where’d Amber...oh, Amber’s boyfriend came.”
“He drove you home?”
“No, no.” She swatted at the small space between us. “This guy I met at the bar we went to—he was so sweet. I think his name was John or Josh...or...where’d my pillow go?”
I had to let go of her so I wouldn’t accidentally hurt her when my hands clenched into fists. But I wanted to yell at her for letting some random guy drive her home. I wanted to tell her how many cases I’d had of girls Maci’s age and younger, whose bodies were found dumped on the side of the road after a night out. But she was so gone right now, it wouldn’t matter. She hardly knew I was there.
Then something else occurred to me.
“Maci. Maci, wake up.” I pulled her away from the pillow and made her look at me again. “The guy who drove you home...did he walk you upstairs? Did you tell him which apartment was yours?”
“No, no. He just dropped me off.”
I once again released her to scrub my hands over my face, so damn thankful Maci had some sense when she was this drunk. But I still couldn’t trust what she might’ve told him, so I sure as shit wasn’t letting her go back to her apartment tonight.
“I love you.”
I froze. Lowering my hands slowly, I looked at Maci, only to find her cuddling the pillow again and planting a soft kiss on the fabric.
Fucking hell.
“All right, I think you’ve had enough time with this pillow,” I said with a sigh. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“He’s so soft,” she whined when I tried taking the pillow from her. “My face loves him.”
“I get it. You’ve professed your love for my pillow a few times. But I’m gonna get you taken care of and in bed now.”
“No,” she pleaded as if I were tearing her away from her most prized possession.
I stood with her in my arms and laughed when she reached for the couch again. Dipping my head close to hers, I whispered, “I have softer pillows on my bed.”
She froze for all of two seconds before throwing her arm out and pointing in the direction of my kitchen. “Pillows!”
“Christ, you are so fucking drunk,” I mumbled. “How about this: you help me take care of you, and I’ll give you all the pillows you want. Deal?”
