His Best Friend’s Sister

by Eve Gaddy

  Booze’s was crowded. No surprise since it was Saturday night and the oldest bar in town was a very popular place. Luckily, she found a seat at the bar. “Margarita, rocks, no salt,” she told the bartender, Kirk.

  “Coming right up.” He came back shortly with her drink. “Want to run a tab?”

  “Sure. Why not?” She could nurse a couple of drinks for a long time. She didn’t need to be in a hurry to get home. She could sit here until closing if she wanted. So what if there were only six cabs and no Ubers in Whiskey River? She didn’t plan on having enough to drink to need one.

  “I take it the margaritas are good?”

  Laurel turned around to see a tall man around her age leaning against the bar. She didn’t know him but he was cute and friendly. So she smiled at him. “They are. Really good.”

  “Can I buy you another?”

  She looked at her glass, surprised to see she’d almost finished it. What harm was there in flirting a little? “Sure.” She tipped up her glass and finished her drink.

  He signaled to Kirk. “Another round for the lady and a margarita on the rocks for me. With salt.” He smiled at her and offered a hand. “Nathan Kershaw.”

  “Laurel Lewis,” she said, shaking his hand. “I don’t know you.”

  “Funny, I don’t know you either.” He grinned and said, “What do you say we get to know each other?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Their drinks arrived and they toasted. “To new friends,” Nathan said and they both drank. “So, Laurel Lewis, do you live here? Or are you just passing through?”

  “I live here. How about you?”

  “I do. But I haven’t lived here very long. A few weeks is all.”

  They talked and flirted and drank and before long Laurel had gone a fair way to forgetting her troubles.

  “Is this a private party or can I join you?”

  Laurel turned her head to look at Zack. He really is delicious. “Zack! When did you get here?” She turned back to Nathan. “Nathan, this is Zack. Zack, this is Nathan.” For some reason that struck her as funny and she started to giggle.

  Nathan grinned. “Let me get you another drink.”

  “Oh, I’ve still got some—” She reached for her glass and realized it was empty. “Huh. How did that happen?”

  “Why don’t you let me take you home?” Zack asked.

  “Why? I don’t want to go home. I’m having a good time.” He was frowning at her. “I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Not drunk. But she was feeling no pain.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Zack, but get lost,” Nathan said. He signaled Kirk and pointed to Laurel’s glass.

  “Does he know who you are? Or for that matter, do you know who he is?”

  “Of course,” she managed to get out. “I’m Laurel and this is Nathan. Really, Zack, I introduced you two just a few minutes ago.”

  Zack wasn’t paying any attention to her but was looking at Nathan. “Nathan works with Travis. He’s one of the new copilots.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.” She giggled again. “Thank you,” she told Kirk as he set another margarita in front of her.

  Zack frowned, watching her drink. “Don’t you need to get home to your kids?”

  “Nope. Tonight I’m childless. No kids, no job, no poor Laurel.” She toasted herself. “Tonight I’m fun Laurel.”

  “Zack, beat it,” Nathan said and put his arm around Laurel.

  “Yes, go away, Zack,” Laurel told him, laughing as his expression grew more thunderous. “Why are you hassling me? You act like you’re one of my brothers.”

  “I’m not your brother, thank God. But Travis is,” he said to Nathan.

  Nathan set down his drink. “Her last name is Lewis.”

  “But I’m divorced,” she announced. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  “Her maiden name is Sullivan,” Zack said.

  “Shit. She’s Travis and Harlan’s sister?”

  “Their younger sister.”

  “Crap.” He finished his drink and said, “Laurel, it was really nice meeting you but I’ve got to go.”

  “You’re leaving?” Something had just happened but she couldn’t quite figure out what. “Why?”

  “I value my life. Tell you what, Zack, since you’re the bearer of bad tidings, you get the check. Damn.” He shook his head and left.

  “What just happened?” Laurel asked. Zack was waving at Kirk and didn’t answer. “You ran him off. What did that mean, he values his life?”

  Zack rolled his eyes. “He knows Travis would kill him if he hooked up with you.”

  Her mouth fell open. “That’s not Travis’s business. Or yours either, Mr. Buttinsky.”

  “Look, Nathan is an okay guy, but I know him. He’s made it obvious that he’s not in the market for anything more than a one-night stand.”

  Her brows drew together. She’d had a little too much to drink to be very logical but one thing stood out to her befuddled brain. Zack was ruining her night of freedom. The only one she was likely to have for a long, long time. Her one night to not worry about her kids or finding another job. She took another sip of her drink and set it down on the bar. “How do you know I’m not looking for the same thing?”

  *

  Zack had always thought the phrase “seeing red” wasn’t literal. Until he saw Nathan putting the moves on Laurel. She wanted a one-night stand with some dude she didn’t even know? Laurel? Sensible, hardworking, responsible Laurel? “Nice try, but I’m not buying it.”

  “No one asked you to. I was having fun. And now you’ve run him off and I’m not having fun anymore.” She waved at Kirk.

  Zack shook his head at the bartender and made a sign to bring him the check. He’d tried to talk to Jalisco’s manager again but the man had been adamant that Laurel had crossed the line and he wouldn’t take her back. After that Zack had gone looking for Laurel and seen her car but no sign of Laurel. He stopped at the few places he thought she might be, winding up at Booze’s. Sure enough, there she was. Flirting with Nathan. Nathan, who everyone knew was only out for a good time.

  “Come on, Laurel. Let me take you home.”

  “I’m not going home. My kids are spending the night with Harlan and Savannah and I lost my job and the last thing I want to do is go home and be depressed by myself.”

  “You’re understandably upset about losing—”

  “Of course I’m upset! I needed it, even if it was a crap job. The pay sucked, it made my feet hurt and if another man grabbed my butt I was going to go ballistic. Oh, wait. I already did that.” She laughed and took another drink.

  Where was the damn check? “Just how were you planning to get home?”

  “I was going to get Nathan to take me. Until you ran him off.”

  “What were you going to do before you met him?”

  “Call a cab.” She hopped down from the barstool and grabbed his arm to keep herself upright. “Oops. The ground was farther away than I thought. Be a sweetheart and get me a drink,” she said and headed off toward the restrooms.

  Fat chance. He poured out what was left of her margarita. He managed to get her out of Booze’s by letting her think he was taking her somewhere else to get a drink. His pickup was parked nearby and he steered her toward it. “Why do we need your truck? Aren’t we going someplace around here?”

  “It’s a surprise. Just get in.” Laurel was short and his truck sat up high and didn’t have a running board. After watching her try to haul herself up into the cab, and missing several times, he gave her a boost with his hand on her butt. Fortunately, she seemed to find that hilarious. He’d been half afraid she’d slug him.

  “I can do it myself,” she told him when he pulled her seat belt out to fasten it around her.

  “I’m sure you can.” In a pig’s eye. “But I’m here so I’ll just help you.” With any luck she’d pass out on the way to her house.

  She didn’t pass out. She talked. A lot. He’d
never realized Laurel was so talkative. “Why don’t you ever come to Jalisco’s with a woman? It’s always just you.”

  “Because I’m not dating anyone.”

  “Why not? You’re awfully cute. Well, hot. Yeah, hot. That’s what you are.”

  He shot her a glance. “Thanks. Or I would thank you if you weren’t drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  Zack pulled up at a stop sign and simply lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “I’m feeling no pain. But I’m not drunk. So why don’t you have a girlfriend? You usually do.”

  “I gave up women for Lent.”

  She thought about that for a minute. “It’s not Lent. Oh, well, never mind. You’re not dating anyone. And I’m divorced. D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D,” she sang, extremely off-key.

  He laughed.

  “Where are we going? There’s not a bar—Wait a minute. You’re going to my apartment. Aren’t you?” she demanded.

  “Yes. And you’ll thank me in the morning.”

  “I’m not going home. Stop the truck. I’m getting out.”

  “The hell you are.”

  She started wrestling with her seat belt but luckily she couldn’t get it unfastened. “I don’t wanna go home.” She sucked in a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. “I never do anything fun. Please don’t take me home, Zack.”

  Well, shit. Now he felt like a turd. He took the next left, heading away from her apartment. She noticed and beamed at him. “You’re so nice. I knew you wouldn’t make me go home.” She patted his arm. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you to my place.”

  She thought that over. “Do you have any tequila?”

  “No. Besides, you don’t need any more to drink. You’re already going to feel like hell tomorrow.”

  “Are you taking me to your apartment so you can have your way with me?”

  An image of doing everything he wanted to her and with her popped into his head. Don’t even think about it. He shot her an irritated glance. “No. I’m taking you there so I can strangle you.”

  She laughed. “You wouldn’t do that. Would you?”

  He sighed. “No. I wouldn’t harm a hair on your pretty head.”

  “You just said I was pretty.”

  “You are pretty. In fact, you’re beautiful. Which you know.” He pulled into the covered parking in front of his set of apartments and stopped the truck. “Are you sure you won’t go home?”

  “No, I want to see your apartment.”

  He swore under his breath, got out and went around to her door. No way could she get out on her own. Once he had her untangled from the seat belt, he handed her her purse, scooped her up and set her on her feet on the concrete. She latched on to his arm.

  “Can you walk?”

  “Course I can walk. I can walk perfectly well.” She let go of his arm and took a few unsteady steps. “See?”

  Perfectly well was stretching it but she was walking. He grabbed her hand, just in case.

  “Zack, if you think I’m pretty…why don’t you want to have your way with me?” she asked as he towed her along.

  Hell, she’s not going to remember any of this. He stopped, pulled her up against him and kissed her. She tasted like tequila, but sweeter. He felt her hesitation at first but then she slid her arms around his neck and melted against him, kissing him back. Their tongues touched, retreated, touched again. He ran his tongue over her teeth, inside her mouth and finally let her go.

  She stared up at him with her arms still around his neck. “Wow. That was…wow. Does this mean you do want to have your way with me?”

  Zack opened the door to his apartment and pushed her inside. “It means I want to make love to you any way I can get you but I’m not going to do it when you’re drunk.” If he thought that would shut her up he was wrong.

  “I’m not drunk,” she insisted. “I only had two drinks.”

  “Two and a half. Honey, you are completely blitzed. Sit down and I’ll bring you some water.”

  “I’d rather have tequila,” she said, and sat on the couch.

  “Dream on,” Zack told her. In the kitchen he took a minute to get his shit together. Damn, this was not how he’d envisioned their first date. But then, it wasn’t a date. More of a rescue mission. Not that Laurel thought she needed rescuing.

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  She’d kicked off her shoes and leaned against the doorjamb barefoot, wearing tight jeans and a white button-down shirt that was what the wait staff at Jalisco’s wore. The first few buttons of her shirt were undone, exposing her neck and part of her collarbone. Earlier that night she’d taken down her ponytail and her blonde hair fell straight to her shoulders, messy and inviting. He had a brief fantasy of unbuttoning her shirt the rest of the way and tasting her mouth, her neck, filling his hands with her breasts. Regretfully, he put aside that daydream.

  He didn’t answer her with words. Instead he opened a cabinet and got out the aspirin bottle, poured two into his palm and handed them to her, along with the glass of water he’d already poured.

  Laurel frowned but she popped the aspirin in her mouth and took a drink of water. “What if I wasn’t drunk?”

  “What?”

  “If I wasn’t drunk. Would you—”

  “Take you to bed?” He groaned, envisioning her naked in his bed. “Damn straight I would.”

  After setting down her water glass she walked over to him and slid her hands up his chest to clasp her arms loosely around his neck. Then she stood up on her toes and said, “Kiss me.”

  He shouldn’t. He knew that but damn, a man could only stand so much temptation. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Her mouth was soft, inviting; her tongue met his in a slow, seductive rhythm. She strained to get closer. He picked her up and backed her up against the refrigerator, cradling himself between her legs. He wanted his hands on her bare skin, wanted his cock buried deep inside her, pushing her to a screaming orgasm. And that was so not going to happen.

  Zack ended the kiss and let her slide down his body, wringing another groan from him. “I’m going to take you home now.”

  He expected her to argue but she didn’t. “Can I use your restroom?”

  “Sure. It’s through the living room and down the hall before you get to the bedroom.”

  He watched her go, satisfied that she would make it without his help. Ten minutes later he went looking for her, certain he’d find her barfing in the bathroom. But the bathroom door was wide open. He found her in his bed. She’d managed to strip off her jeans, leaving her in a hot pink pair of bikini underwear. And thank God, she still wore her white shirt, although she’d unbuttoned a couple more buttons and her bra peeked out, exposing one perfect, lace-covered breast. He managed to rip his gaze from her body to her face.

  She’d passed out. In his bed. Half-dressed.

  Zack tried half-heartedly to wake Laurel up, but unsurprisingly, he had no luck. Swearing, he stripped off everything except his boxers and crawled into bed beside her. He was damned if he was sleeping on the couch.

  Hey, you got what you wanted. Laurel in your bed.

  Someone had a shitty sense of humor.

  Chapter Three

  Why is my head killing me? And why is my mouth dry as a desert? Maybe I have the flu.

  Laurel opened her eyes. A man’s arm lay across her chest. She followed his arm to his shoulder and then to his face. Zack. Awake and smiling at her. His green eyes sparkling with devilish humor.

  “Oh, shit.” Not the flu. A massive hangover. Bits and pieces of the night before came back to her. Dumping water on Grabass. Getting fired. Crying. Drinking. Too much, obviously.

  “Is that any way to greet your lover?” Zack asked.

  She closed her eyes, then opened them to look at him. “My…did we… Oh, shit.”

  “You said that. Having regrets, are you?”

  “This is not remotely amusing.”

  “Maybe not to you. I think it’s
hilarious.”

  “Did we have sex?” Laurel demanded. She remembered kissing him. More like attacking him, you dumbass. What had she done?

  He was propped up on his arm, bare-chested and still smiling that big ol’ shit-eating grin. “Now you’ve hurt my feelings. You don’t remember making wild love with me?”

  Her eyes narrowed. She sat up, realizing she still wore most of her clothes. Not her jeans. But she still had her panties on. And her shirt and bra. Surely if she’d had sex she wouldn’t be wearing so many clothes. Probably. “No. I don’t. And furthermore, I don’t think we did.”

  Zack sat up and her gaze was unwillingly drawn to his bare chest. Again. A beautifully muscled bare chest that made her hands itch to caress it. This is Zack. What were you thinking?

  I was thinking he’s hot and I’ve always liked him and I wanted to be a little reckless for a change.

  You sure as hell accomplished that.

  “You’d be right,” Zack said. “We didn’t have sex. But it would have served you right if we had.” He got out of bed, bent down and grabbed his jeans, and wearing only his boxers went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. A short time later he came out, wearing the jeans but still with no shirt. If she hadn’t been so hungover she’d have been salivating.

  “You can have the shower first. You’ll feel better once you do. I’ll make coffee.”

  A shower. Coffee. Yes, she needed fortification. She’d figure out what to do after that.

  Twenty minutes later, she got out of the shower, wrapped herself in a towel and looked in the mirror. Ew. Not pretty.

  Hunting for a brush, she pulled out a drawer. Ordinarily she didn’t snoop, but this was an emergency. Besides, she wasn’t going through his drawers to be nosy.

  She found a brush and ran it through her hair, then looked in the mirror again.

  Better. By no means good, but better. She didn’t look quite so much like death warmed over. Her wet hair hung down to her shoulders and despite the shower she looked a little pasty-faced. But she’d seen worse in the mirror after a sleepless night with sick kids.