‘Of course.’
‘Just keep an eye on her. I know Tara’s a bit wild at the moment, but I’ve never seen her like this.’
‘She’ll feel better once she chucks.’
Sam stood, still looking worried. ‘If she throws up too much, call Taylor Hartmann. Or maybe get her straight to the hospital in Murray Bridge.’
‘Of course.’ He tapped his chest. ‘Voice of drunken experience here, remember?’
Maybe his playboy reputation was good for something, as Sam smiled, looking more relaxed. ‘Yeah, of course. All right, I’ll catch you later. Be good.’ Her gaze slid back to Tara. ‘To her. She’s liked you for a really long time, Ham.’
As Sam left, he stood, pulling Tara up with him. She was conscious but unresponsive, so he scooped her into his arms and shouldered through the narrow, unmarked door that led to the rear car park. He’d hoped the cold air might rouse her, but Tara snuggled in closer to his shoulder, muttering something unintelligible about ducks.
Home was only a couple of blocks away, and Tara weighed nothing. And he was out of options. He needed to get her somewhere safe, away from the too-interested gaze of the locals. Though they’d look out for one of their own, that wouldn’t protect Tara from the gossip. If he could quickly spin a story that she was with him, her indiscretion would be forgotten soon enough. And as soon as he built on that story to say he’d used her and dumped her, the sympathy would be all in her favour. Made him look like a shit, buthe was used to that. Like Jemma said, there was one set of rules for guys, another for girls.
His breath frosted as he walked the quiet streets. Everyone in Settlers Bridge was either at home or at one of the pubs. There was nowhere else to be on a wintry Saturday night. Which meant that Tara had been at the Overland. That surprised him. Lynn was a mother-hen type, and would never let one of the girls get drunk in her pub. But then, maybe she was off for the night?
The lights were on in his house, signalling that Ethan was back from Charlee’s place. Good. It was one thing pretending to the pubgoers that he was with Tara, another thing completely to be stuck alone in the house with a vulnerable young woman.
The door was unlocked, as usual, and he managed to twist the handle and open it without dropping Tara.
Ethan was kicking back on the lounge, but got up straight away. ‘Sorry, man, didn’t know you were bringing someone home. I’ll make myself scarce.’
‘Nope. Just make room on the lounge,’ Hamish said, unceremoniously dumping Tara on the seat Ethan had vacated. ‘Don’t know if you’ve met Tara? Tara, meet Ethan.’ Now the adrenaline was draining, he was annoyed. He’d avoided Tara’s infatuation for months, but now he felt like he’d walked right into a trap set for him.
Ethan frowned, leaned down and pressed his fingers to Tara’s wrist, then her neck. The girl slurred something.
‘Drunk,’ Hamish supplied unhelpfully. ‘Like I’d rather be.’
Ethan shook his head. ‘I’m not so sure. Tara? Tara, listen to me.’ He levered Tara up so she was sitting upright, then took her chin between his fingers. ‘Tara, what did you take?’
The words were again incomprehensible to Hamish, but Ethan seemed to understand.
‘Okay, what did you drink?’
Tara’s eyes rolled, focused on Ethan for a moment. ‘One Bundy.’ It almost sounded like a request. ‘For the duckies,’ she added. Then she shook her head, but the movement unbalanced her and she slid down the lounge.
Ethan lifted her legs and settled her more comfortably. ‘She was drinking with you, Hamish?’
‘Hell, no!’
‘Chill, man. I’m just trying to work out what she’s had. Her pupils are gone.’
‘She must have been at the Overland drinking.’
‘No,’ Tara said, suddenly clear.
‘Not the Overland?’ Ethan said, but Tara was mumbling again. He shook his head. ‘Get me a bucket and a teaspoon, mate. And a towel.’
‘What?’
Ethan glanced up from where he was crouched alongside the sofa. ‘I want to test her gag reflex.’
‘Gross. Why? She’ll chuck soon enough.’
‘I don’t reckon she’s drunk.’
‘She just said she had Bundy,’ he called over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen and took a bucket from beneath the sink. He emptied out the wastewater it was set to catch and grabbed a spoon from the draining board, giving it a quick swipe with the tea towel he’d pulled from the front of the oven.
