Melly tips her head. “Yes? What does your lady want while she’s out on her date?”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I continue to text with Tara, lost at half of what is coming from her.
“She’s drunk texting me,” I say at last. The next few messages have me raising my eyebrows, confused, laughing, and then concerned.
“Go get her,” Melly says, watching me with amusement on her face.
“She didn’t ask me to do that.” But she is talking about my babies. Something I can’t explain to Dash’s mother.
“Men.” Melly rolls her eyes. “If a woman tells you where she is, she wants you to come get her.” She places her hands on her thighs, her manicured nails a pop of pink. “And on that note, I’m going to leave you alone to go pick her up and tell her how you really feel,” she says, rising to her feet and heading over to her daughter, Chloe.
“Thanks,” I call after her.
The next thing I know, I’m striding into the restaurant and bar in town. A combination of relief that there is no date wars with amusement at the drunk messages I received.
I take one look at the woman in the chair wiping her mouth with her sleeve and know just how drunk the usually put-together, well-mannered Tara is.
For all the times I’ve seen her drink at high school parties, I never saw her like this. Glassy-eyed, cheeks flushed, splayed back against the chair in a heap. She is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
She glances up and meets my gaze, surprise opening her eyes wide. “Axel!” She hops up from her seat and wraps her arms around my neck, which I have to admit feels damned good. “Why are you here?” she asks.
I need to gauge how inebriated she is and how to deal with her, so I pull her off me but keep her hands clasped in mine. “I realize drunk texting an ex is a thing, but you scared me. I thought you were on a date and something was wrong.”
I didn’t realize how worried I was until I walked in and saw her safe and sound.
She shakes her head, her brown hair falling around her face. “No date! I’m at a party and everyone was talking about babies. Babies made me drink. They also made me think of you,” she babbles.
I release my hold on her hand as she falls into me. I catch her before she can slide to the ground and hold her tight against me. She feels good in my arms, but given the reason, I’m not going to be admitting my intentions for us tonight.
“Tara,” a woman says in a singsong voice. “Who’s the hunk?”
Since she’s sitting on another man’s lap, I know it’s not a pickup line. She’s obviously drunk, too.
I shift Tara against me. “I’m Axel. An old friend of Tara’s. And you are?”
The woman stares at me through her heavy-lidded gaze. “The drummer and Tara’s ex!” Her voice rises in excitement.
“This is Amy, Tara’s stepsister,” the man says, his amusement clear. “I’m Kenneth, Amy’s fiancé.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say. Tara’s head is on my shoulder, her body weight leaning against me. “Anything I need to know?”
“Other than a successful bachelorette party without strippers? Not a thing.” Kenneth pauses. “I was going to take them both home, but Tara seems to be settled where she is,” he says, chuckling.
I grin. “I’ve got her.” Which is easier said than done, but eventually, I manage to encourage Tara to lean on me as she walks to the car. The top is closed, and I lean down to strap her in, debating about where to take her and deciding to go to my place. I know where everything she’ll need is located, and I live closer.
Only when I carry her into the house do I realize I only furnished my bedroom and minimally at that, which means she’ll be sleeping in my bed tonight.
CHAPTER SIX
Tara
I’m too oldto drink like a teenager. I wake up, my head pounding and my mouth feeling like cotton and tasting like something foul settled in there. My bladder is screaming at me, and I slowly pull myself to a sitting position, wait for the waves of nausea and head throbbing to settle, before opening my dry eyes.
I look around the unfamiliar room and panic seizes me. Where am I? Who did I go home with? Heart pounding, I glance down to see my bare legs and a man’s T-shirt covering my important parts. No bra, but panties still on. Thank God. I hope that means I passed out and nothing happened. But where and with whom?
I can’t remember last night, and a careful look at the other side of the bed tells me I’m alone. I blow out a breath, stand, and make my way to the bathroom.
I find an array of towels stacked on the counter, a folded man’s shirt, a toothbrush in a package, and realize whoever took care of me seems to be looking out for me.
