“Courty, don’t be a Debbie Downer,” he teases, leaning up against me.
I shake my head and chuckle. “C’mon, Deputy. Time to go.”
“Court! Drew!” I hear Kayla shout as she runs to catch up to us.
“Hey!” I shout a bit louder than necessary as I lean into Drew’s side. “Want to share a cab with us?”
“No, Logan offered to drive me home,” she exaggerates, her eyes as wide as her cheeky grin.
“Well, then.” I smile right back. “You two drive home safely.” I flash her a wink, and she winks right back.
“Will do. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” She gives me a hug and skips off.
“Well, I gotta give your friend credit,” Drew says, pulling me back to reality, his body still against mine.
“For what?”
“She’s been tracking him all day long.”
“Yeah, I know. Looks like she’s pretty persuasive.” I shake my head in agreement, anticipating hearing all about it tomorrow.
Drew grabs us a cab just as the rest of the guests follow out. The air has a chill to it and Drew wraps his suit coat over my shoulders. “Thanks,” I say, pulling it tighter, enjoying the way it feels against my bare skin.
We hop in the cab, and he lets me rest my head on his arm. It feels natural—like home—when he wraps his arm around me, and I lean against his chest.
“I’m so hungry,” I mutter, my eyes falling closed.
“Any chance you have any of your baked goods lying around?” he asks, making me smile. I knew he secretly wanted my muffins.
“I always keep a stash in the freezer for emergencies.”
“I knew I liked you,” he teases, and I smile.
We finally arrive back to the house and immediately start binging on my homemade blueberry muffins.
“These are so damn good,” he says between chewing. “You really know what you’re doing.” He leans against the kitchen counter and moans as he takes another bite.
I laugh, knowing it’s the alcohol talking. Drew wouldn’t eat them under normal circumstances. Between his morning protein shakes and lifting weights, the sugar in a blueberry muffin would put his body into shock.
“Well, I’m an emotional baker. When Toby and I broke up, I obviously didn’t handle it well. Viola was there for me as much as she could be, but when she wasn’t, I needed to keep my mind busy. I started baking, anything and everything, to get over the pain. One thing led to another and I had fourteen dozen muffins and cookies piled in my apartment.”
I laugh just thinking about it. Not about losing Toby, but about how irrational I was at the time.
“Sounds like you made a good stockpile for yourself.”
“I handed out baked goods for weeks to anyone who would accept them. After a while, I’d gotten pretty good at hoarding them.”
“Well, bonus for me then.” He smirks as he takes his last bite.
I put the rest back in the freezer and grab the milk. “Want a glass?” I hold the gallon up for him to see. “They taste better with milk,” I try to convince him because we’ve both been binging on beer and tequila shots the last six hours.
“No, but you know what I do want?” he asks, his voice low and unpredictable.
“What’s that, Deputy?” I tease, knowing he hates it when I call him that, but the alcohol rushing through his veins is too strong to take notice.
“One last dance.” He flashes me one of his infamous looks that always helps him get his way. He leans forward and stretches his hand out to me. How could I ever say no to him?
“It’s like two in the morning, Drew. Plus, there’s no music,” I try to make excuses, but he ignores me and grabs my hand anyway.
“Don’t make me stuff a muffin in your mouth.” He presses a finger to my lips and pulls me into his chest. “I’ll hum you a song if you need music.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at him as my heart flutters. If he wants to torture me and let me inhale his scent while slowly killing me, who am I to resist?
“One song.”
He grins and accepts my counteroffer.
Placing one hand on the small of my back, he pulls me against his chest and my entire body buzzes. His other hand cups mine, and soon his body begins rocking back and forth.
My body moves with his, and it feels like a dream come true. Even with his humming off key, everything about this moment is perfect.
“Dance skills aren’t so bad,” I say. He pushes us apart, grins, and spins me around.
“I’ve learned a few things along the way. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Oh, really? Are we about to two-step or do the polka?” I arch a brow.
“Let’s not get crazy.” The corners of his lips tilt up slightly. “I know you probably learned to hoedown before you could walk, but the rest of us non-Southerners shouldn’t attempt it while boozed up.”