Dream On(32)

“Sure.”

Pushing away from the pinball machine, he takes two steps and stumbles. Devin catches him by the shoulder, eyebrows furrowing. “You okay?” he asks.

Perry waves him off. “Pshh. Fine.” His green eyes are glassy and unfocused and there’s a raspiness to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I don’t think Perry’s fine. He drank most of the pitcher on top of those shots,” I whisper to Devin.

“I think you’re right. Damn it, Perry. Sit down.” Devin steers Perry into an empty seat at the bar over his protestations. “Drink some water. Don’t argue.”

“Aren’t you the bossy one,” Perry mumbles, but slurps the water Sam the bartender pushes toward him.

Taking me gently by the elbow, Devin leads me a few paces away. “I’m sorry. Perry’s not usually a big drinker. I should probably make sure he gets home okay…”

“Of course, don’t worry about it.”

“Want me to give you a ride? I haven’t had anything to drink for a couple hours. I can get my car and—”

Perry slumps over the bar and only avoids tipping out of his chair thanks to Sam, who practically dives across the bar to steady him. Devin winces.

“Why don’t we split an Uber?” I say, grabbing my bag from the floor next to the pinball machine.

“Good idea.”

“No, it’s a great idea. Allow me. It’s the least I can do,” Perry calls. After a few seconds of fruitless fumbling for his phone, Devin strides over and plucks it out of his pocket. He holds it up to Perry’s face to unlock it, then taps the screen several times.

“The closest Uber’s three minutes away. Let’s go.” We scoop Perry up from the bar and haul him toward the door. He’s about as steady as a Weeble Wobble, so I loop his arm around my shoulders while Devin flanks his other side. Outside the bar, bass-heavy music echoes in the distance, bouncing off the historic brick buildings.

Perry sways between us. “Sorry I got schnockered.”

“It happens,” I say.

“It didn’t have to happen tonight though,” Devin mutters under his breath.

Perry swings his head to look at Devin, then at me. “You know what? I think you’re okay, Cass. I’m officially 92 percent sure you’re not a stalker.”

I snort. “A glowing endorsement.”

“Sure is.” His green eyes are unfocused as they bounce around my face. “But I’m warning you, you better treat my brother right. Or I’ll sic The Colonel on you.” Squinting one eye, he unloops his arm from Devin and jams his finger in my general direction. The jerky motion throws him off balance, and we careen sideways. I flail, and somehow end up with my face smooshed against Perry’s chest. The scent of freshly cut grass, cinnamon, and whisky overwhelms me, and my stomach somersaults.

Devin grabs Perry’s arm before we topple over, yanking him back—me along with him. “Jesus, Perry. Get it together.”

He holds up a hand. “Sorry, sorry.”

The Uber finally arrives, and loading Perry into the little Ford Fusion without him landing in the gutter is a whole other adventure. After several maneuvering attempts, we manage to get all his limbs into the back seat and clamber in after him. My place is only a few blocks away, so the Uber driver suggests dropping me off first. Perry’s passed out by the time we get to my house, head tipped back against the headrest, snoring softly.

“Is he okay?” I ask Devin.

“Oh yeah, he’s fine. He’ll sleep it off.”

When I step out of the car, Devin follows and walks with me up the sidewalk. We pause on my porch, standing in the pool of light cast by the outdoor sconce.

“Sorry again about Perry,” he says.

“It’s okay. I had a nice time tonight.”

“Me too.” Sauntering closer, he offers me a shy smile. “Look, I know we only met up to try to solve your mystery, but I’d like to take you out. For real.”

Joy flutters like a tiny bird inside my chest. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” A smile tugs at the corner of Devin’s lips as he drops his eyes to my mouth. He leans in, intent unmistakable, and our lips connect.

Mint lingers on his lips as he presses them against mine. Out of our three kisses tonight, this is certainly the most chaste—probably because the Uber driver is waiting with Perry passed out in the back seat—only a swift meeting of breath and bodies. An acknowledgment of more to come. A heartbeat later he steps back with a dazzling smile.

“What are you doing after work on Tuesday?” he asks.

I rack my brain and nothing comes to mind, but I’ve learned I can’t trust my memory at the best of times, let alone after several cocktails and a shot of whisky. I take out my phone and check my calendar app. “Nothing.”

“I’m planning to see my favorite eighties cover band perform on the East Bank of the Flats. Want to come?”

“It’s a date.”

“Great. I’ll text you.” Waving, Devin backs down the stairs and climbs into the waiting Uber.

I watch the car pull away, then unlock the front entrance and step inside. After closing the door, I lean against it and grin up at the ceiling. Tonight was better than I ever could have imagined.