Attached to You (Carolina Rebels 4)

The thoughts bum me out even more, so I return to my seat, order another drink, and rest my head on the bar. I apologized to Mom so many times over the years for so many things, but it was never enough, was it? Here I am, drinking my sorrows away, when she was the stubborn one! She couldn’t forgive me. Hell, this might just be my sweet grandma’s fault. Because she wanted me to take some responsibility and get my life together, she caused everyone else to be pissed with me in the process.

I miss Grandma, too. If she were here, she’d straighten them all out.

“Are you okay?”

I glance up at the bartender and point to my empty glass, indicating I want another.

“Bring her check,” another voice says from behind me.

I sit up and turn to find Brayden. “Hey, you came!” At least, that’s what I’m supposed to say. Not sure it comes out so clearly.

“Fuck, Deanna. How long have you been here?” He reaches up and wipes my cheeks. Am I crying? I lift a hand to my cheek and find it wet. Guess so. “I’m taking you home.”

I frown, and then I realize what he’s wearing. “Is that a suit?”

“There, ah, was a company party.”

“Damn.” He’s exquisite in a suit. My hands fumble as I attempt to run them over his chest. He quickly grabs both wrists, holds them in one hand, and pulls out his wallet with the other to pay the bartender.

“Fuck, Deanna. That’s one hell of a tab. How long has she been here?” he asks the bartender. He then curses when he realizes I’ve been here starting only an hour after he last saw me. “Let’s get you home.”

I wobble on my feet, making him curse again. The room spins, and I’m not so sure walking is a great idea. Another curse from Brayden as he tries to drag an unstable me through the throng of people.

Wait just a minute! I wanted him to come and drink with me. Not take me home!

“What are you doing?” He sounds exasperated as he turns to face me now that I’ve stopped walking.

“I’m not done drinking.”

“Yes, you are.” He yanks me closer, flush against his chest. “You’re going home.” He lifts me up and starts walking. I push against his chest, even as I hide my face in his neck because the sudden movement makes me want to puke.

“Suppose to drink with me,” I mumble.

“You drank enough for the both of us. Quit fucking pushing my chest, Deanna. We’re obviously leaving.”

Fine. Brayden manages to get me into the car and drives to my house. I’m bummed that he came to my rescue, but the bright side is he’s in a hot suit. Uh-oh. “Pull over.”

“What?”

Before I can repeat the command, I open my door, lean over, and puke.

“For fuck’s sake, Deanna!” He slams on the brakes. The seatbelt cuts into me, but I’m too busy puking to moan from the pain. “What were you thinking?”

That I was wearing a seatbelt and I really needed to throw up. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I get carsick when I’m drunk.”

“You couldn’t have warned me?”

“Sorry,” I repeat. Sitting up slowly, I close the door. “Go slow.”

We stop three more times for me to throw up, but we make it to my house. Brayden walks Otis and I feel really crappy then. Poor guy has been cooped in the house all day! Amazingly, I don’t see where he went to the bathroom, but he did destroy the cushion from the rocking chair and his bed. Can’t say I blame him there.

Brayden finds me already in my pajamas and brushing my teeth. Otis pushes past him to bump his snout against my leg. I pet him with my free hand. He sits and leans his big body against me. I have to brace my legs to keep from falling over.

“You want me to stay?” When I nod, he says, “Good, because I was planning on it anyway.”

I laugh, nearly choking on the spit-toothpaste mixture in my mouth in the process. I spit, rinse, and face him. “Then why ask?”

“More polite that way.”