Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(37)

Keeping her drunken gaze locked to mine, Swayze wobbles toward me. “Yes, Mr. Alcohol Police?”

Holding out my hand, palm up, I wait for her to take it. After a few seconds of staring at it with apprehension, she takes it. I give her a firm jerk, and she stumbles forward onto my lap. I drag her knees up to straddle my legs.

Jett clears his throat. “There are young kids ten yards away. At least take her into the bathroom. Not that I personally have issues watching.”

I ignore him. Swayze? Not so much. She turns pink clear to the tips of her ears.

“I’m not having sex in the bathroom,” she tries to whisper but misses the mark by a few decibels.

“No?” I grin, lifting a single brow while sliding my hand around the back of her neck.

Her head shakes a half dozen times, eyes wide like the idea alone has sobered her up a good fifty percent.

Those wide eyes dart side to side several times before meeting my gaze again. “Uh uh.”

I’m joking, even if my dick at the moment feels rather enthusiastic about the idea. Leaning closer, I whisper in her ear, “I love you. You suck at bowling, but I love the hell out of you.”

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you tell me what he said.” Jett winks at Swayze.

“A hundred bucks?” Her back snaps ramrod straight. “He said, ‘I love you. You suck at bowling, but I love the hell out of you.’”

Jett lifts his fisted hand to his mouth and coughs. “Bullshit.”

I grin at Swayze and shrug. She frowns.

“I want my hundred bucks. Tell him, Griff.”

All I can do is chuckle.

Jett lumbers to standing for his turn. “I’m firing your pansy ass if that’s what you said to her.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Okay, she’s not all that sobered up after all.

“I want my hundred bucks. I just shared …” She points a finger at him as I hold onto her waist before she attacks my boss, who’s grinning like an idiot. “Dammit,” she mumbles before sinking her teething into her bottom lip. “What was I saying?”

This gets more laughter from the rest of the drunks. I’m the only completely sober one in the group.

“Yes!” Her same accusatory finger shoots up in the air. “I just shared something personal with you only because you offered me a hundred bucks.”

Jett bowls a strike and turns, stroking his goatee. “Swayze, darling … Griff saying you suck at bowling is quite public. We’ve all seen you.”

Aaannnd it’s time to go. Swayze digs her nails into my arms, trying to pry my grip from her waist.

“We’re taking off. Swayze hasn’t had dinner yet.”

Breanna jerks her head to the side. “There’s food over there. Pizza, hot dogs, nachos—”

“Nachos? I love nachos! Griff, nachos!”

I lift her off my lap now that food has distracted her from attacking Jett. “I’ll take you to a Mexican restaurant. You don’t want stale chips and fake cheese.” After changing my shoes, helping her with hers, and saying our goodbyes, I take Swayze’s hand and pull her toward the exit.

“I think I do want stale chips and fake cheese,” she murmurs as we step outside. “I’m so hungry I could eat anything.”

I grin, shaking my head. “I can offer you a shot of cum on the way if you need something to tide you over.”

“A shot of—wait, is that code for a blowjob?”

Everyone else in the parking lot hears the lingering echo of blowjob. Well done, Swayze.

I open her door. “It’s code for get your ass in the truck.”

She lifts her leg but misses the step.

“You’re a fucking mess.”

She giggles as I grab her waist and hoist her up. “But you love me.”

I help her fasten in. “I do.”

“But you were piiisssed about me being late for bowling.”

I shut the door, get in on my side, and start the truck. As we pull out of the parking lot, she slips off her boots and wiggles around to get her feet tucked under her off to the side.

“Why does everyone look at you like you’re meat and they’re starving carnivores?” She slurs a few of her words either from the alcohol or plain old exhaustion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on … the women. They are so nonconspic spic not conspic … no that’s not right. Inconspic … fuck!”

Biting my lips together, I shoot her a quick glance. “Conspicuous?”

“That’s it! You’re so smart, honeybuns.”

Honeybuns is a new one.

“All those filthy women want you. They have no shame.”

“Alcohol makes you paranoid, Swayz. What do you want to eat? Mexican?”

She leans on the console between the seats and drums her fingers together. It’s a little weird. “I’m thinking a Griffin hotdog.”

Scratch that. It’s a lot weird.

“Never heard of that brand. So, yes to Mexican?”

Her hand cups my crotch. “I think I’m ready for that cum shot.”

“I think you’re too drunk, I’m too sober, and the speed limit is too high.”