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She smirked. “She was laughing. I’d hardly call that an interrogation.”
I lifted a brow. “The best way to pump intel from a subject is without them realizing they’re providing it.”
“You sound like a SEAL right now.”
“I am a SEAL. Always will be, even after hanging up my uniform.” My throat burned a little after I’d said that. The discomfort from my past had my chest aching.
“Of course,” she whispered.
“Back to Calista,” I prompted, needing her to let me know what she wanted me to do. Carry on with the woman regardless of the new information, or find someone else to date?
I thought back to Natalia’s words in her office before I had drinks with Calista. I’d assumed she didn’t want me to have sex with any woman Anthony had ever touched because it’d be too harsh of a reminder of her breakup with him. Looking at her now, I wasn’t so sure that was the case.
Natalia closed her eyes, which I knew was a bad idea. Her head would most likely start to spin, she’d lose her balance, and I’d have to catch her again. I didn’t exactly hate that idea, but it wouldn’t have been productive for either of us.
“Well, I don’t care who Anthony sleeps with,” she shared. “So, don’t cancel on account of me. Don’t use me as an excuse not to hook up with a woman your brother—”
“Would you stop saying that, damnit? I just told you I only care about her past with my brother if it upsets you.”
Natalia opened her eyes and, just as I’d predicted, lost her balance. My hands shot free from my pockets to catch her, and I grabbed hold of her arms to keep her upright.
I was breathing a little too hard, but I managed to rasp, “I told you in your office after your G-rated comment I have no plans to sleep with her.” My face was dangerously close to hers as I emphasized, “Whether she hooked up with my brother or not doesn’t change that fact.”
Her shoulders fell. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just drunk.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I hissed, angry at myself, not her. I should’ve known better than to open up that can of worms with how much wine she’d had.
“Just date her, okay?” She wet her lips and looked up at me again. “You probably won’t have enough time to find someone else that’s both suitable and so willing to help.”
I eased my grip on her arms, worried I’d hurt her.
“I promise I’m fine with it.” But then why were there tears in her eyes?
You’re anything but fine. What in the hell was I supposed to do now? “Let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re sober.” Without thinking through my next moves, I scooped her into my arms, and she released a startled gasp.
She didn’t resist, though, and linked her wrists behind my head, staring into my eyes as I carried her. I did my best to ignore the fact her ass was pretty much in my hands as I walked. I also may have taken my sweet time getting to the passenger side of my truck.
I held her for a few seconds longer than necessary, still maintaining my hold of her while reaching for the handle and opening the door. I slid her onto the seat and reached across her lap to buckle her, feeling the need to do it myself. When she fisted a handful of my shirt, I froze.
“What are you doing?” Still bent over her, with one hand on the dash for support, I twisted to peer at her and discovered her mouth mere inches from mine.
“I probably won’t remember this tomorrow, but—”
“No.” I had no clue what she was about to suggest, but the answer needed to be a no from me. “It’s my responsibility not to let you do anything you wouldn’t do while sober.” I hated the fact my dick twitched when she arched a bit off the seat, nearly touching my crotch. I closed my eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath, attempting to bring myself back under full control, before fixing my gaze on her face.
She drew her lips closer despite my rejection, entranced by the wine or something. Dazed and confused, sure. Or more like dazed and horny. Thank God I was the one taking her home. Enzo may have claimed only to see her as family, but the fact of the matter was—they weren’t. And he was a guy. So no, I didn’t trust him alone with her.
“You really don’t know me all that well,” she murmured. “Maybe I’d do this when sober.”
I was on the verge of asking her to define “this” . . . but thank God, I refrained. “I thought I established earlier, I do know you.” I removed her hand from my shirt and backed away to stand alongside the truck.
“Just because you know how I like my coffee and remembered Rabbit Beach blue, doesn’t mean you’re the authority on me.”
She was pissed. Trying to hurt me. And I knew it was the wine talking, but I didn’t trust myself not to fall into a trap and stick my foot in my mouth. Because what if I said something I might regret, and she did remember tomorrow?
Instead, I said, “I need to get you home.” And with that, I stepped back and shut her door.
When I was inside the truck, she had her arms folded and her head resting against the window, eyes closed.
