Isla appeared, and my hands started sweating. I thought she was going to kick our arses for sitting around drinking. I mean, it wasn’t like we were still on the clock, but still. “How were the drinks?”
“Really good,” I gushed quickly.
“Good. Well, if you enjoyed them, we’ll add them to the menu,” Isla professed before pushing into the booth wedging me in the corner.
Another round of drinks showed up complete with a round of tequila shot chasers, and the laughs just got louder.
“So, little miss country girl. What’d you think?”
“Me?”
“You’re the only country bumpkin around here.”
I’d tried so hard to make sure I didn’t look like the country girl I was raised to be – hell, I’d left half my wardrobe back at home just so I didn’t fall back into old habits and pull on my flannel shirt and favourite boots just to make myself a little less lonely in the big scary city – but I obviously couldn’t shake it. I was a country girl at heart and turns out, I couldn’t out run it.
“What do I think about what?”
“About joining us on a more permeant basis?”
“That would be fucking amazing.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I clamped my hand over my mouth.
“Well, let’s just say, the way you handled that douche canoe earlier…your probation is over.” Isla raised her glass and Beth squealed.
“Already? I thought you said it was a two-week probation period?”
“You want to argue about this? Or do you want to accept my offer and I put you on the roster for five shifts a week?”
“Nope! Not arguing. Not me.”
“Good.”
“Check the shifts. You’ll be on there for Tuesday.”
By the time I got home I was off my face. A combination of deliciously flavoured booze flowing through my veins, lack of sleep, and pure relief. I’d done it. I’d somehow managed to save myself from drowning, and I was finally able to take a breath. Even if it didn’t last, right now I felt like I could finally breathe.
It was after three when I stumbled through the door and straight into the coffee table. “Motherfucker!” I swore. Even through my drunken haze my toe throbbed like a bitch.
The light was turned on, blinding me temporarily. Blinking hard, I tried to see through the harsh lights and focus on the bare-chested guy standing in front of me. “Jesus, Claire. What the hell are you doing?” Jason chastised, coming towards me.
“Nothing,” I slurred and wobbled before leaning heavily on the kitchen bench. Dropping my shoes on the floor and trying to inspect my toe.
Before I fell arse over tit, I was swept off my feet and into Jason’s arms. He was warm, hard, and smelt so damn good. “You’re pretty,” I murmured, nuzzling against his neck.
“I know, sweetheart. And you’re drunk.”
“Just a little bit.” I giggled.
“Come on then. Let’s get you to bed before you hurt yourself.”
“You smell pretty.”
“And you’re going to regret this in the morning,” Jason reminded me as he yanked the covers back, my favourite kitten pyjamas falling on the floor. “Right, drunky smurf, in you go.” With a nudge I fell forwards, my arms windmilling before I fell flat on my bed.
Way too soon there was a banging on my head. At least it felt like it was on my skull. Prying my eyes open, I groaned, dropping my arm over my eyes trying to block out the world.
“Someone’s not a happy camper this morning,” a thick, gravelly voice taunted.
“Ugh.”
