Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(65)

When I got my hand back, I skulked back to Adam, trying not to let my head droop.

“Well done,” he nodded at me, then got a hug. If it was a little too tight, well, hopefully he could keep a secret.

Next I found Candace, crawled into the booth next to her, and let the night flow by.

Chapter Fourteen

Sometime later the lights started blinking, showering our table with light. Everyone blinked and groaned, those sitting down were too drunk to stand, too lazy, or too thrilled with the entertainment Ty and I were providing. He was my new sidekick, and Candace was our laugh track.

As I collected my handbag, then had to awkwardly stand back up after I fell over it onto my face, Adam grabbed hold of me.

“Hey, Adam. How’s it hangin’?” I slurred.

“C’mon, Jessie, let’s get you home.”

“Well, down the stairs at any rate, huh? Death trap, those are!”

As I suspected, the stairs were a fiasco. Adam nearly had to carry me. Half way down he said, “What the hell would’ve you done without dad-gum help?”

“Someone always helps drunk girls,” I mused. “It’s getting away from those guys that is tough stuff.”

Adam huffed. Then started a weird sort of buzzing.

“Huh?” I said.

“How did you get here?” Adam must have repeated himself, judging by the slow speech and thorough enunciation.

“Oh, that guy. The date. He dumped me. Not even together, and he dumps me. Thought I was in the pursuit of money, or some damn thing. I rent a pool house, Adam. In Texas, were land is a forth the price of my home town, I am renting a pool house. But yeah, I’m after money. What a f**king turd!”

He chuckled.

“What a shit night. Some parts were okay, I guess. The end was, anyway. And you. You are cool. Cool man dango.”

“I need to get you home.”

“Funny story—I can actually get my own self home. I have been worse off than this and made it home...somehow. Don’t recall the details, but I made it. I am magic. Poof. Yes, sir.”

“Well, tonight you are sharing my cab. C’mon.”

I struggled out of his grasp. “No! I am not going home with you. Not with any man. No men! Need my own house. My own bed. I need my own ride. Cab. Own cab. No mistakes. I’m too drunk. Please, too drunk!”

He could’ve been hurt because I suddenly felt bad. My sober mind was picking up the signals and feeding the corresponding emotions to my drunk brain. It was still hazy, though. What was happening was mostly a blur. But he kept his distance, so I must’ve stepped over the line again.

“Jessica,” he said quietly, “I ain’t gonna take advantage of you. I wouldn’t never do that. ‘Specially not after that other weekend. This is my way of making up for...what happened. I shoulda been watchin’. I knew what he was capable of. I knew he wouldn’t stay gone. I shoulda been there, I--”

“Sorry Adam,” I cut him off. I didn’t want to hear any more. I reached out to put my comforting hand on his chest, but missed, hit off his arm, and face dived into him. I was met with solid muscle.

Through his shirt I said, “Ouch." It was too much work to struggle back up, so I kept talking into his shirt, "Sorry. I am a super ass. Drunk arse to boots. Please don’t be mad. I am not used to guys wanting to look after me. Men, they are strange, yes?”

“Does that mean you’ll let me guide you now? I’m not too sober, but I’m at least headed in the right direction.”

“Yes. Can you steer me like this, ‘cause man-oh-man, I am tired.”

A chuckle rumbled out of his chest as his arm came around me. He tried to walk with me sleeping on his chest, but after a few steps, when I actually did start to fall asleep, he straightened me.

“Can’t sleep yet. C’mon now, gotta walk.”

I moaned but started walking on my own. Kinda. He kept a hand on me to keep me mostly erect. Truth be told, I wanted to lay down on the ground and fall asleep, but I soldiered on.

That was, until we hit the crowded bar. Everyone was yelling for one last drink. Laughing girls and desperate guys prowled, looking for someone to take home. The party was still raging on. And when a party is in full swing, I rally.

It was a huge failing of mine.

“Jess—now, c’mon. We gotta go, c’mon,” Adam kept saying, over and over, trying to prevent me from talking to everyone I saw.

Finally he guided me out outside. That’s when I saw the horse’s ass. My chest hurt. Or was it my head that was ultimately responsible?

“Willie,” Adam shouted, “you gotch’ur own or do you wanna split one?”

William noticed me, then gave Adam a searching look. I glared at him for both of us.

“She goin’ with you?” William asked in a way I thought was too slow for normal speech.

“Volumes are spoken. Volumes,” I said in a slur. “Everybody is looking at me. I have a speech problem. It is like diarrhea. You, sir, are a douche.” I stabbed the air in William’s direction.

Adam’s chuckle rumbled through his chest again. “Yeah, she’s at Peek’s place, right?”

“Yup. Out back in the cottage, but Gladis will find you before you get that far.”

“Hey,” I said, “that’s what I call it—the cottage. I think that is a title of a horror movie, too. The Cottage. Everyone is looking again. Shut. Up. Jessica.”