A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(24)

I squint at him. He looks blurry, but still handsome. “Know what? I’ve faced worse demons.”

He flinches.

“Don’t fuss. I’ll be fine. I live half a mile from here. I don’t even have to drive home. What could go wrong?”





CHAPTER 12




A HOT, IRRITATING MONSTER





REED

The night drags on forever. Only my father and Melody have escaped. They made their excuses and waved goodnight to everyone an hour ago.

I would bail, too, but the Sharpes keep topping up my whiskey—and Ava’s. I feel compelled to stand here and watch over her. The Sharpes’ personalities match as well as their ties. And I’d just as soon drop kick them off the summit than do business with them.

The eldest Sharpe pours the last of the bottle into Ava’s glass as her eyes turn to slits. She’s definitely drunk. In spite of her careful poise, I see the signs. The heavy eyelids. And the way her head looks a little too heavy for her neck.

I pick up her whiskey glass when Mr. Sharpe turns away, and I take a gulp of it. “This is bullshit,” I whisper.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she hisses.

“Did I say you couldn’t?”

“I don’t remember asking for your help. Please stop pretending to be nice to me.”

This makes me frown. “What if I’m not pretending?”

She rolls her eyes.

Mercifully, Grandpa Sharpe finally declares that it’s past his bedtime. “If you want to howl at the moon, you still have to get up with the roosters,” he says.

Hands are shaken all around. Luckily, Ava distributed the Sharpes’ room keys before she got wasted, so all she has to do is wave unsteadily from her barstool. “Breakfast is served until eleven,” she slurs.

And then they’re finally, blissfully gone.

“Jesus,” the evil bartender says as she collects all the glasses. “They’re awful.”

At least she and I agree on something. “They’re fucking terrible,” I grumble. “I’ve met hundreds of great people from Texas. And then there’s those guys.”

“Shhhh!” Ava stage-whispers. “They have a lot of money. And they won’t be living here. S-so it doesn’t matter if I don’t like their whiskey.” She hiccups. “Or their sexism. But I did it. I was fun! And I outlasted the Sharpes. Every damn one of them. Pass the trophy!” She throws her hands up in victory.

Unfortunately, this destabilizes her. And even as she grabs the edge of the bar for support, she slides awkwardly off the stool and toward the floor.

“Oh, shit, Ava,” Halley says, ducking under the bar to help.

“I’m fine!” Ava declares from a crouch near the floor.

I take a step toward her, but the bartender gets there first, helping Ava to her feet. “Sit still for fifteen minutes, okay? I’ll drive you up the hill just as soon as I can close.”

“No need,” she says blearily. “My pajamas are calling my name. Night!” Then she turns and carefully walks away from us.

“Oh Jesus.” I’m uneasy as I watch her slowly cross the lobby, her arms outstretched for balance. Like a tightrope walker with no safety net.

“Ava!” The bartender calls after her. “Where is your coat? And you can’t walk home in those heels!”

But Ava just lifts a hand and waves.

“Fuck.” The bartender throws down a towel. “She couldn’t wait ten minutes?”

“I got this,” I say. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t wander into the snow.”

Halley growls, but I don’t stick around to hear what she thinks. I hurry after Ava, who has almost made it to the double doors.

I catch up with her as she is trying unsuccessfully to hit the button on the wall that will open them. “Where is your coat?” I ask as she finally nails the button.

“Not sure,” she grunts. “I’ll find it tomorrow.” The doors part, and a blast of cold air greets us. But she steps outside.

Shit. I step out, too. “Ava, hey,” I say, tailing her into the bitter cold and shrugging off my jacket. “At least take my suit jacket. You’re going to freeze to death in that dress.”

“Nope,” she says. “No help from you.” Even as the words leave her mouth, she stumbles, and I have to catch her elbow to stabilize her.

Once she’s steady, she jerks her arm away again. “I’m fine, Reed. Go home. Go back to California where I don’t have to see your face.”

I open my mouth to promise to do that, if only she’ll put the damn jacket on. But she’s not done.

“Just get back on the plane with your minions and your hot clothes and your gym body and—could you please get ugly before you ever come back? Like, really ugly. And with a dad bod.”

I choke back my laughter. “Will do, Ava. I know you don’t really want to see me. But it’s probably a good thing that we finally saw each other again.”

“What? No, it isn’t.” She makes a face, like she’s tasted something bitter. Then she stumbles again, and I catch her forearm one more time. She shakes me off. “How could you say that? I hate you.”

Pain slices through me. “I know,” I say carefully. “And I’m sorry. We should probably have this conversation when we’re not drunk. But I’m happy to see you doing well. It’s good to see you smile.” Even if it’s a drunk smile. She’s moving slowly now and rubbing her arms against the cold. So I make an attempt to drape the jacket over her shoulders.