“Did you rouse yourshelf—” She stopped and blinked. “Yourselfout of bed just to come down here and harsh everyone’s mellow?”
Despite his foul mood, he found his lips twitching. “Have you been dippin’ into Britt’s pain meds?”
“Oh, ha ha.” She gave him an irritated look. He reckoned that was what she was aiming for anyway. In truth, she looked sort of…constipated. “That’s what we’ve been missing tonight; your unparalleled wit.”
For whatever reason, her drunkenness made it impossible for him to maintain the dickish disposition he’d donned since the morning he told her there would be no more benefits. “I’m thinkin’ ya might want to slow down on that stuff.” He tilted the neck of his own beer toward the one she held in her left hand. “You’re startin’ to sound like Ozzie.”
“Can you recall when I asked for your opinion?” she snapped back. “Neither can I.”
To prove her point, she took a long slug of her beer. After she’d drained it, she slammed the empty bottle down on the arm of her chair and belched loudly.
He blinked. Then he blinked again when she stood and walked—wobbled?—over to him to point a finger at his nose.
“I don’t like this pershun—” She stopped and moved her lips like they might be numb. “Personalityyou’ve recently acquired,” she managed. “Being a bitter butthead doesn’t make you prettier, in case no one’s told you.”
She turned, stumbled a little, and announced to the group, “Thanks for the fun, everyone. But since Sir Sourface has arrived”—she gestured to Fisher—“I’m calling it a night.”
She weaved her way to the back door and Fisher called after her. “Don’t let me ruin your fun!”
“Too late!” She stabbed a finger in the air before disappearing inside.
“Yeah.” Britt slapped the arms of his chair. “She’s right. It’s late. Time to turn in. Who’s carrying me upstairs?”
“I’m your huckleberry,” Hewitt raised a hand.
Graham simply drained the last of his beer and stood to assist Hewitt in getting Britt out of the Adirondack.
“Wait. What?” Fisher frowned. “I show up and suddenly everyone’s turnin’ in?”
“You snooze, you lose, brother,” Britt grinned.
Graham and Hewitt acted as human crutches and escorted him into the old factory building.
Fisher looked expectantly at Becky and Bossy. “And then there were three.”
“Two,” Becky corrected. “I’m headed to the cottage to brush my teeth. They feel like they’re wearing fuzzy sweaters.”
“Y’all are spendin’ the night?”
She winked at him. “We figured we’d take advantage of bein’ child-free and relive a bit of our past.”
Before they’d had children, Boss and Becky had lived in the little foreman’s cottage out front. Now it sat empty most days.
“I’ll be right behind you.” Boss smacked Becky’s ass when she stood. “Just lemme finish this last beer.”
“Don’t keep me waiting too long.” She bent to kiss his lips. “You know I get impatient.”
“One of my favorite things about you,” Boss grumbled, and the light in his eyes as he looked at his wife was so hot and intimate Fisher feigned sudden interest in the dancing fire.
After Becky disappeared around the side of the building, Fisher made a face at Boss. “Didn’t mean to run everyone off.”
“Nah.” Boss dismissed his comment with a wave of his big mitt. “You just reminded us we’re not twenty-five anymore. If we don’t call it quits now, we’ll be paying for it tomorrow.”
“I think Eliza is going to be payin’ for it regardless.”
Boss eyed him curiously. “Sometimes the only way a person can hide their hurt is to drown it.”
Shifting uncomfortably, Fisher returned his attention to the flickering flames.
