“You know,” I say, waving my hand in the air as though that somehow clarifies it. “Because of the whole dance number during the game. The hat, and the whole yee-haw thing,” I continue as I mime riding a horse with a lasso in hand. “But fine, if that’s not your thing I won’t call you that anymore.”
“No, you’re free to keep calling me whatever you want,” he says, his voice dipping low. “As long as it’s coming out of that dangerously smart mouth of yours, I’m a happy man.”
My eyes soften as my friendsoohandahhbehind me.
“No more of that,” I warn, though my tone is anything but threatening. “Chauffeurs are not supposed to be flirting with their passengers like that.”
This time, it’s him who plays along as he mimics zipping his lips before throwing away some imaginary key.
God, why is even that adorable when he does it?
I’m starting to think it’s time I sober up—and soon. I’ve already made plenty of bad decisions tonight, and I really don’t need to be making anymore.
16
Fletcher
It may have seemed like a noble option at the time, but looking back, perhaps it hadn’t been my smartest move to suggest I be the one to drive the ladies home. Even with plenty of room in the front of my truck for one of them to have joined me, all three decided to squeeze together in the back like a giggling pack of teenage girls. The entire ride was pure chaos, with a mixture of off-key singing, questionable life advice, and worst of all, criticism of my driving skills.
For the record, I’m afantasticdriver.
Still, I’ve been amused the entire time. I like seeing this loud, goofy, and unfiltered side of Hollis. I’m aware it’s mostly the alcohol bringing out this unguarded version of her, but I’m pretty sure there are pieces of the real her coming through as well.
The disappointment builds as I pull my truck into the parking lot of Hollis’s apartment building. She’s my last drop-off, which means our night is officially coming to an end.
“You can just drop me off here. You don’t need to walk me to my door like you did with my friends,” Hollis says, pointing to where she wants me to stop. “Being the last one I’ve officially had more time to sober up. I’m totally fine now. Scouts honor,” she promises with a scout’s salute.
“Nope,” I say, ignoring her suggestion as I park my truck in a nearby stall, then turn to face her. “I told you earlier. This isn’t up for discussion. My job isn’t done until I know you’re safely inside.”
I’d have hated myself if anything happened to her friends, because somehow, despite their crazy antics, they’ve grown on me. But with Hollis it’s different. My need to protect her is primal, and there’s no way I could ever just drop her off and hope for the best.
“Plus, I’m pretty sure if something happened tonight, my career with the Honky Tonks would officially be over. Do you really want me to lose my job over this?” I ask, reaching into the backseat to unbuckle her seatbelt.
“Fine,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “I suppose I’d feel pretty bad if you lost your job at my expense.”
I send her a grateful nod before stepping out first. She reaches for the handle to open her door, but I’d thought ahead with the child lock. The last thing I need is her toppling out and falling onto the hard cement on my watch.
I open the door for her. She attempts to hop out, but it’s clear her claim of being sober is a complete lie—she’s still very much tipsy. Before she can try again, I grip her waist and lower her to the ground, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her hands instinctively find my shoulders for balance.
She’s staring up at me with wide, adoring eyes, and while I want to believe what she’s feeling is real, reality—and faint smell of lemon drop shots—hits. I drop my hands. While I look forward to her looking at me like that again, and I’m confident she will, I’m hopeful it won’t only be after she’s drunk her body weight in alcohol.
“So where exactly are we heading?” I ask, glancing toward the building she’d pointed at earlier.
“Um,” she starts, glancing around as though I somehow just asked a trick question before her eyes finally land on a specific apartment, “that one.”
Thankfully, and by some miracle without me even having to push for it, she links her free hand through my arm as she lightly grips my bicep. Then again, as she stumbles after only a few steps it’s clear she needs the extra support. “Oopsies,” she giggles.
“Don’t worry, I got you,” I promise—and I do.
I will never let anything bad happen to her.
Not now.
Not ever.
She leads the way as we head up the stairs toward her second-story apartment, me holding her close as we walk.
“You, uh, want to come in?” she casually asks, dropping my arm.
