“No. It rolled away. Lost all your champagne though.”
“That’s . . . disappointing.” She sounded breathless still. Why did he do this to her? Why was he the only one who could do this to her? Every time they were together, electricity seemed to crackle in the air, yet she fought the attraction between them with snarky comments and plenty of eye rolling. She didn’t want to feel this way toward Tate. Arrogant fire captains weren’t her type. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be good for her.
But most of her favorite things weren’t good for her. Pizza. Chocolate cake. And any kind of cake, really—she didn’t discriminate. Nachos. God, she adored nachos. Oh, and the occasional Frappuccino from Starbucks—those definitely weren’t good for her. Booze. Yeah, alcohol wasn’t good for her either, yet she’d been chugging champagne like water once that bottle was opened.
Huh. All of the bad things she indulged in were either food or drink, not men. Maybe she was smart, sticking to her no-date-with-Tate policy.
She started to laugh. No date with Tate. That was funny.
“Do you do this on a regular basis?” he asked.
Wren tried her best to contain her laughter, but it was hard. “Do what?”
“Get drunk? I feel like every time I see you lately, you’re buzzed.”
Well. His words were like a slap of sober reality right to the face. She stepped out of his arms and backed away, needing the distance. “I don’t always get drunk.”
“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”
He was making her feel like a lush. Like an alcoholic who couldn’t control her drinking when she was the furthest thing from that. She drank socially, but that was it.
Except for the time at the bar, when she ran into Tate. Or tonight, when she drowned her pitiful sorrows in champagne. Again, in front of Tate.
She was just having an off week. That was all.
“You seem to catch me at my worst moments,” she mumbled, feeling stupid. “I don’t normally drink like this.”
“I know,” he said quietly, his gaze steady and full of understanding. Like he really did know and wanted to be there for her anyway.
His serious expression, how he always seemed to be there for her no matter what, overwhelmed her. She took another backward step, nearly tripping over her dress again, and Tate moved toward her to offer his assistance.
But she held her hands out, stopping him. “I’m fine. Really. I just . . . I need to get out of here.”
Before he could utter a word, she turned.
And ran.
Chapter Seven
“WREN, WAIT!” TATE took off after her, afraid she might do something to hurt herself, like trip over her own feet, or worse, climb into her car and take off.
He didn’t like the idea of her doing either of those things, so he chased her down, running around the side of Harper and West’s house and pushing through the wooden gate. He jogged across the tiny strip of grass that ran the length of the condos and stopped short when he saw Wren standing on the sidewalk, looking around confusedly before her gaze met his.
“Lost your car?” he asked as he approached her slowly.
She nodded, offering up a little shrug. “I shouldn’t drive.” Her head dropped, so she was staring at the ground. “There are a lot of things I shouldn’t do,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear.
He stopped beside her, reaching out to slide his fingers along her bare shoulder. She shivered beneath his touch, and for some strangely possessive reason that pleased him. “I’ll take you home.”
“Do you always rescue damsels in distress?” Wren lifted her head, her smile strained. She looked embarrassed, and he didn’t want that. Something was definitely bothering her, but she wasn’t comfortable enough with him to open up. And it was clearly something she didn’t feel comfortable enough revealing to her closest friends either. He had no idea what was going on inside that head of hers.
And he was sort of desperate to find out.
“The only damsel I want to rescue is you.” He meant every word. No other woman interested him. Only Wren. Was it because she didn’t like him? That she played so damn hard to get all the time? That she gave him nothing but crap? Though there wasn’t any playing when it came to Wren. She didn’t like him.
He wanted to change her mind and prove her wrong. He was a good guy when he wanted to be. And she was a challenge, when no other woman had been a challenge for him before . . .
“So you’re my knight in shining armor?”