He winked at me again and then he kissed me. Right on the mouth. He flipping kissed me. Which turned me at least fifty percent sober—which wasn’t saying all that much—and also one hundred percent confused. I tried to ignore the zing tingles that went through my body at the feel of his lips on mine and the delicious tickle of his almost-full beard against my cheek as he pulled away.
What is he playing at?
I snatched up the water and took a huge gulp, choking and sputtering on an ice cube in the process.
Her face scrunched up in feigned confusion. “Y’all two are dating now? How cute! I can’t wait to tell everybody.” She snickered.
“Watch it, Jackie,” Garrett warned. My head bounced between the two of them as I tried to concentrate on what they were saying. I sat forward in the booth to pay closer attention to their lips. I huffed out a frustrated sigh and flopped back in the booth. Drunk lipreading was impossible, dammit.
“Just go away,” I sighed, not in the mood for more of her drama. I’d been over her crap since we were kids and I wished she would just get a new hobby. Unfortunately, torturing me seemed to be her reason for living. I was more than sick of it.
“Sure, I’ll let you get back to your date. Bye, y’all.”
I sighed. “Later…”
“I never liked her,” Garrett declared. “She always was a shitty friend to you. Especially after—”
Not wanting to get into it, I cut him off. “Yeah, well—are you playing games with me, Garrett?” My eyes narrowed on his mouth. I wanted to be sure I understood his answer. But I didn’t need to. Garrett already knew how to talk to me, and he had always made sure I could hear him without making it awkward. He leaned in and spoke directly in my ear.
“I wouldn’t play with you, Molly. You know me better than that. Plus, you know my mother would kill me if I messed with you.” He pulled back and his ever-present grin shifted sideways as he placed his arm across the back of the booth. My skin prickled with awareness; he wasn’t touching me, but I was alarmed to find myself wanting him to let his big sexy arm fall to my shoulders and pull me close again. I was even more alarmed at my sudden urge to take off my shirt and climb into his lap. Tinder date, who?
I laughed to cover the naughty directions my thoughts had drifted into. I couldn’t figure out how to talk to him. We had ventured into uncharted waters tonight. “I love it that you’re scared of your mother,” I teased, forcing myself to ignore the effect he was having on my body and attempting to shift back to our old friendly dynamic.
He chuckled. “Don’t try to tell me you’re not scared of her too.” His fingertip rounded the rim of the glass of water as he talked. Why was that so sexy? I found myself wanting him to do other, more interesting stuff with that finger. With an awkward lurch, I raised my head, wrenching my eyes from his hand on my glass and back up to his face.
“Okay, I admit it. I wouldn’t cross her. She looks sweet and she is sweet. But she’s a tough one, like a Steel Magnolia or something,” I finally managed to answer.
He bit his lip to hold back laughter. “That would be her ultimate life goal. Are you ready to go home? Or do you require more tequila?” I shook my head side to side as I studied that full lower lip pouting over his darkly shadowed chin. Visions of yanking him to me by his T-shirt and tasting that luscious mouth popped into my head. Knock that shit off.
I forced out a laugh. “God no. I’m headed for hangover city as it is. I’ll be useless at work tomorrow.”
You’re drunk. That’s all this is. Drunk Molly is always a horndog.
He slid out of the booth and held out a hand. I took it and hauled myself up to stand at his side. Again, with the dang zing tingles. My hand in his seemed to be a conductor of sorts, causing horny sparks to shoot throughout my body. I blushed at the way it felt grasped in his warm palm. It was getting harder and harder not to stare at him or flirt back. Flirting was one of my top ten favorite things to do; not flirting was hard for me. And holy moly, had his hands always been this much bigger than mine?
He leaned over to grab my purse from the booth. “Don’t forget this.”
“Oh, jeez. Thanks, Garrett.” I stumbled into his side as I hooked the strap over my shoulder.
He smiled as he held my arms to steady me. “You okay there, Princess Tipsy McPeesHerPants?”
I swayed as I pointed a finger up in his grinning face—way, way up, because Garrett was well over six feet, and I was a shrimpy five foot one. “Hey, man! That was one time, okay? Senior skip day was hard for me, and you know it. There are no bathrooms up at Sky Lake. And you’re a fine one to talk. I know all about you and your ladies, Man-ho Monroe, Mr. Slick, Flirty McHotStuff.”
His lips quirked into a wry grin as he bent low to speak into my ear. “My reputation is seventy-five percent undeserved, and you know it.”
“I know no such thing. Okay, fine. Shut up. Whatever. I know it. I really am sorry. I say stupid shit when I’m drunk.” I pursed my lips and tried to roll my eyes as I backed away from him. But it made me dizzy and I stepped on his foot, stumbled, and almost went down. How many tequila shots had I drunk tonight?
“Then I twenty-five percent forgive you. Hey now, steady, Molly. Let me help you.” Bending low to wrap an arm around my waist, he guided me through the crowd toward the exit.
I stopped near the edge of the dance floor to pull his face closer to mine. “People are going to think we were really on a date if you keep your arm around me like this,” I warned in his ear.
With a shrug and a half grin, he answered, “Let them.” Then he resumed leading me through the crowded bar and out to his truck.
Chapter 2
Molly
“Shut up, shut up, shut up. You’re not the boss of me…” Talking smack to alarm clocks was useless, yet it didn’t stop me from doing it every morning without fail. Waking up was not one of my strengths. Sleeping, however? I was great at that. There was nothing better than a cozy bed and a dark room. Or a sofa and a sunlit room—who cares? I could sleep anywhere, and I did. Naps were my favorite, but I required multiple loud alarms if I wanted to be up at specific times—my hearing required it. I shut off the bedside clock alarms, then my phone alarm, then did a double take at my phone. At some point during my festival of drunken bumbling the night before, I had changed the background picture from the pic of my family’s inn to one of myself grinning dopily with my cheek pressed up against Garrett’s chest.
Oh my god. What else did I do? Did I have sex with Garrett?
I looked around the room before frantically throwing the covers back. I was still wearing my clothes from the night before. My chest rose and fell with a sigh of relief as I studied my bed, bod, and surroundings. There was no trace of condom wrappers, or any of the other telltale signs that I’d had entirely too much fun last night anywhere to be seen. Thank goodness. Not that it happened often, but who cared if it did? I was a grown-up woman, and sometimes I had needs of the non-battery-powered kind, thank you very much. I didn’t need a boyfriend, but sometimes I required the “D” and a set of fingers that weren’t my own.