“Oh God. Shut up,” she groaned.
She’d held court with Rix’s firefighter mates last night. She and Davina had them eating out of their hands. He was actually surprised his sister didn’t pull one (and this gave credence to the growing seriousness of the situationship she had going on back at home).
His close presence and Blake hanging on him most of the time was probably the only reason she didn’t.
And, aye.
Her drunkenly hanging on Dair was another indication he wasn’t in this alone.
Sure, a woman with bad manners could paw on a man when she got drunk, he’d experienced that more than once, and he didn’t like it one bit.
But Blake bragging proudly he was her “wedding assistant” and “so very good at it” to anyone who would listen and staring at him often like he built the entire wedding venue with his bare hands was not the same as a drunken woman pawing on him.
“Teasing ye, lass,” he said through a smile. “Ye need water. And coffee. And something in your belly.”
“I need a toothbrush.” She plopped her arms down on the bed asking, “Did you bring my?—?”
She stopped herself speaking when her eyes fell to his chest.
“What the hell?” she demanded and then gave another mild flinch as her hangover reacted to her words.
“What the hell what?”
Her eyes came to his. “I thought you retired from rugby.”
“Aye. I did.”
She flung a hand at his chest. “So how are you still that built?”
“I still play, and I’d get the shite knocked out of me if I didnae keep in shape to do it.”
She aimed her eyes at the ceiling, releasing a “Gluh.”
“And I do rugby commentary for the BBC. I’m often on camera, and I’d look like a twat if I talked rugby from behind a wall of flab.”
She tucked her chin in her neck and looked down at herself. “You didn’t take off my dress.”
He felt his smile change before he replied, “It was tempting.” Her gaze cut to him. “Though I didnae think ye’d thank me for it come morning.”
She turned her attention to his lower half. “What are you wearing?”
“My trousers.”
She squinted at him. “Oh my God. You’re a gentleman. That’s so annoying.”
Even if he knew she needed to get up, move about, hydrate and soak up some of the vodka sloshing in her stomach, and what she didn’t need was him shaking the bed, he couldn’t stop his laughter.
“You would have preferred me to strip ye down?” he asked.
“Just tell me you grabbed my tote.”
“Aye.” He tipped his head to the couch.
She looked that way and mumbled, “Thank God.” She came back to him. “You need the bathroom?”
“I can go after ye.”
She stared at him.
