Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(51)

“Vodka,” Ash spoke up.

“Vodka.” She ticked off that, too, then pointed at Ash and confirmed, “A splash of sprite, and a maraschino cherry.”

Evan frowned at his friend. “Ash—”

“I learned how to tie the stem into a knot with my tongue,” Charlie interrupted to announce proudly.

His mind promptly entered the gutter. He turned toward the table to face her fully. Then his lowered brows went to Asher. Then he thought about punching him in the throat again as he envisioned a scene where Ash was in Charlie’s space, teaching her how to use her tongue to tie a cherry stem in a knot.

“I taught her,” Glo said, and he felt his shoulders relax at the same time he saw Asher’s grin turn sinister.

“That was quite a show, brother,” he told him. “You should be sorry you missed it.”

Over the next two hours, Evan nursed another beer, then switched to water. Charlie, meanwhile, had one more tequila shot and two Mad Cow Tinis, which, Glo informed him by her count, was four total.

“I never puke,” Charlie stammered, then hiccupped. Then laughed. “But tonight, I might.”

“You won’t puke,” Ash said. Glo and Evan had traded seats an hour or so ago and now, Ash threw his arm over Glo’s shoulder and rubbed. Glo, looking sober and like a kitten about to close its eyes and purr, leaned into Ash solidly.

Evan felt his head shake. He really needed to have a talk with his buddy. What he was putting her through was hard to watch. If he didn’t like her, he shouldn’t lead her on. If he did, then he should lead her right out of this bar.

Which was exactly Evan’s plan for Charlie. “She better not. Not in my car.”

“I’m just sleepy.” Charlie hiccupped again. Then she smiled at him warmly… at least he hoped she was smiling at him. Her gaze fettered to the left and then back to him.

“You’re a mess, Ace.” He chuckled.

“I am?” Her face turned innocent and he could swear her concern sobered her some.

“No, baby, you’re good. I’m teasing.”

“Aww, you never call me baby,” Asher said. The ass. “Is it because we’ve never—”

Glo stopped the stream of words with her fingertips when Evan had decided to make good on the mental throat-punch he’d entertained all evening. “Get her home,” she said. “I’ll take care of Asher.”

“You bet you will, honey.” Ash moved her hand and kissed her fingertips.

Evan took Charlie’s hand. “Purse, Ace.” His hand linked in hers, he pointed at the bag on one of the seats.

“Oh, got it.” She held it to her chest and walked with him. She wasn’t staggering, but she wasn’t exactly walking a straight line. He dropped her hand and wound his arm around her waist instead, pulling her close enough to support her but giving her enough room to maneuver.

The ride was short, and as Ash predicted, Charlie did not puke.

“Did you lock up your house when you left, Ace?”

They entered his kitchen, the only light coming from the range, which he’d left on. Terror’s tank was dark and the fish hovered in the center of the tank, his fins twitching, shockingly alive and well, as he watched from his watery home.

“Yeah, I always lock up,” she said. Then she frowned. “I don’t know if I can walk back. Can you drive me?”

“Drive you?”

“I know it’s only two doors down but I’m so sleepy.” She yawned.

“Ace, you’re not sleeping alone when you’re hammered.”

This seemed to sober her up. Her eyes went big. “Why not?” Evidently, her brain never shut off.

“Because you’ll wake up feeling like crap and I don’t want you waking up alone with no one to take care of you.”

“You don’t?” She curled her hands around the back of one of the stools resting at the base of the island.

“No, I don’t.”

“But I have to brush my teeth.”

“I have an extra toothbrush, Ace.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes, Evan. Why do you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Because they were buy two get one free and you never know when you need a spare.”

“For girls?” Something cut into her expression. Something that looked a lot like pain.

He came closer. “Yeah. Drunk girls who come home with me and ask a zillion questions.”

She tilted her head back to take him in, then licked her bottom lip.

He liked her tilting her chin up to take him in.

“I liked what we did in your studio,” she said.

A jolt of awareness he couldn’t act on radiated from the back of his neck to his balls. Because she was drunk. Too drunk.

Too damn drunk.

Shit.

“Yeah, Ace, I know,” he told her. Because he did know. He’d watched how much she liked it. It had been written all over her gorgeous, orgasmic face. Drunk or not, she was telling the truth about liking it.

“But we can’t do it again and that makes me sad.” She placed one hand on his shirt and rested her other palm on his neck, her fingers playing with the longer hair there.

Both hands on her waist, he tugged her until she pressed against him. “Why not?”