Caleb laughed, as he was meant to. “Not if you’re smart, pardner.”
“Oh, yeah,” Billy Ray said, swaying past Caleb toward the well-endowed redhead waving her arms in the air. “If there’s one thing Billy Ray is, it’s smart, and don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Caleb shook his head as Billy Ray plowed his way through the crowd of people. Yep, he would just as soon have stayed home. That didn’t make him old, it just, in his book, made him sensible.
Now all he had to do was find Melanie through the smoke and the throng and call Justin’s bluff about her being drunk.
This was one of those occasions when being six feet tall came in handy. There were some men taller than he was, but they were either on the dance floor, sitting at a table, or leaning on the bar. Without too much stretching on his part he was able to see pretty much the entire room.
Just then the band ended their number and a two-second lull occurred before the roar of voices resumed over the scattering of applause. Into that two-second lull came a sharp whistle from near the tiny dance floor in front of the band at the opposite end of the room from where Caleb stood.
The whistle was, if one could be, familiar. He glanced over and saw Justin. Caleb nodded that he’d spotted him, and Justin pointed toward the booths along the far wall.
And there sat Melanie in the front corner booth. Maybe sat wasn’t the right word, as she was more or less slumped into the corner. She looked as if any moment she would simply slide right out of the booth and end up in the floor beneath the table.
Good grief, had Justin been telling the truth? Was she really drunk?
As he worked his way to her side he worried over what could have caused her to get herself in such a state.
He remembered that lost look on her face Saturday night at the party, remembered thinking she was upset over Sloan’s marriage to Emily. She had denied it, but now, seeing her drunk, for what might be the first time in her life, he had to wonder.
Saturday night she’d said that whatever was bothering her had nothing to do with Sloan. Caleb knew Melanie pretty well, and he couldn’t imagine what could be hurting her enough to have her acting so out of character.
“Hey, there.” He slid in across from her, more than surprised that someone as popular and well-liked as Melanie was alone in the booth.
Her eyes were closed. For a minute he was afraid she had fallen asleep. Or passed out, if she was really as soused as Justin said.
“Go away,” she said. “There’s only enough beer for one, and I’m the one.”
The pitcher was full, her glass half so.
“Looks to me,” he said, “as if you’ve had more than your fair share already.”
Melanie cracked one eye partially open then groaned. Great. She’d either had way too much to drink, or not nearly enough. She was hallucinating. She had to be, because she knew Caleb wasn’t really sitting across from her. No way. She’d made sure to find out that he was not coming to…to… Oh, yeah. Billy Ray’s birthday party. The Road Hog. That’s where she was.
But Caleb wasn’t there. She’d ridden to town with Justin. Not Caleb.
“I definitely need another beer.” She raised her glass, but the apparition across from her reached out and snatched it from her hand. “Hey!”
“No more for you, pal.”
Melanie frowned and squinted to see more clearly. “Lips?”
The apparition frowned back. “What about them?”
“’Zat you?”
“Jeez, how drunk are you? It’s me, Caleb. Are you ready to go home?”
She hiccuped, then giggled. “I think I’m too drive to drunk.”
He muttered something that sounded like, “The understatement of the year.”
“Hey, I resemble that statement.”
Caleb laughed and shook his head. He’d never seen her like this. “You certainly do. Come on, woman, let’s get you out of here.”
She poked out her lower lip in a stupendous pout. “Don’t wanna go home.”
Caleb slid out of the booth. He stepped to her side of the table and reached for her arm, intrigued by the strength he felt there. He shouldn’t let her strength surprise him; he knew she worked probably as hard as he did. He decided he liked that firm muscle beneath his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ll go someplace else, then.” He wasn’t, as a rule, a liar, but just then he would have promised her anything to get her to get up and walk out the door with him. He hoped to God she could still walk. If he had to carry her through this crowd of her friends she would never live it down. Which meant she would never forgive him.
But she let him tug her across the seat to stand beside him. She wobbled a little but stayed upright.
Caleb wrapped his arm around her waist and started her toward the door. She leaned against him and stumbled over her own feet.
“Oops.” She giggled.
“You’re going to love hearing about this tomorrow,” he muttered.
She flung her head back to look up at him and nearly threw them both over backward. “What?” she yelled. “Where are we going?”
“Out of here.”
They made it out the door without much trouble. Most of the crowd didn’t notice they were leaving, so only a few yelled out to say good-night. The gravel in the parking lot made for tricky footing for Melanie. He would have simply picked her up and carried her—she wasn’t in much condition to object—but there were several people around and he didn’t want to have to deal with the talk such a move would surely generate. He took most of Melanie’s weight against his hip. All she had to do was move her feet, and finally they made it to his truck, where he belted her into the passenger seat.
“Where we goin’?” she asked, swaying as he turned right out of the parking lot.
“You already asked that.”
“I did?” Hic. Giggle.
“Jeez, you are snockered.” He glanced over in time to see her blink once, slowly. She reminded him of a baby owl.
“How ’bout that. I guess I am. Snockered.”
“I’m wondering why that is,” Caleb said.
Hic. Giggle. “’Cuz I drank too much beer.” She gave an emphatic nod. The movement would have overbalanced her and sent her tumbling to the floor-board had it not been for the seat and shoulder belts.
“Easy, there.” Caleb reached over and pulled her back upright. Her head fell against the headrest and stayed there. He would have wished that she would just go ahead and pass out, except then he would have to get her into her house, and he didn’t particularly want to have to explain to Ralph why he was bringing his pride and joy home drunk as the proverbial skunk.
And if the worst should happen and Ralph wasn’t home, Caleb would have to put her to bed.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” he ordered sharply.
“Sleep, sleep, sleep. Don’ wanna sleep. Where we goin’? I wanna dance.”
Caleb turned on the radio to a country station. “Knock yourself out. Figuratively speaking.”
“Knock myself out.” She gave herself a mock punch to the head. “Pow.” She laughed so hard she fell against the door.
Caleb winced. She was strapped in, but that didn’t mean he wanted that door to fly open. Leaning as far as he could, he reached behind her head and pushed the door lock on her door.
“Oh, oh! I love this song.” She leaped toward the radio. It took her three tries, but she finally managed to turn up the volume and sing along.
Since Caleb had spent most of the past two days reliving that kiss they’d shared on the makeshift dance floor Saturday night, he wished heartily that she had picked some song other than the old Conway Twitty hit about wanting a lover with a slow hand. Caleb did not need the pictures that took over his mind.
Retracing a trip he’d made at least a hundred times in his life, Caleb slowed and turned off the highway onto the Pruitt Ranch driveway. But for his headlights it was pitch-black out here. He had to take it even slower than
he had when he brought her home the day before, because he couldn’t see where the next pothole might be.
Potholes obviously were no concern for Melanie. She sat next to him singing at the top of her lungs. Currently it was a commercial jingle about car mufflers.
“We’re here,” he said unnecessarily.
“No, no, no.” She groaned. “I tol’ you I di’n wanna come home.”
“Yeah, you told me.” He parked next to the back door. The house was dark, and the yard and driveway, lit by the utility light next to the house, showed her lone vehicle. After ten on a weeknight and her dad wasn’t home.
“Not my business,” he muttered as he got out and went around to haul Melanie out.
She did not cooperate. Part of that was on purpose, because she really didn’t want to go into the house, and she kept saying so as she held on to the truck door when he urged her out of her seat. But part of her lack of cooperation was because she was too snockered to stand up straight.
“Okay.” He slipped one arm around her waist and lifted her weight onto his hip again. It had worked well enough at the parking lot. “Here we go.”
At the back door he pulled open the storm door and tried the knob. It was locked. No surprise there.
“Where’s your key?” he asked.
She blinked up at him, doing that little owl thing again, and giggled. “You’re so cute. Did I ever tell you how cute you are?”
“Come on, you’re not that drunk. Your key, Melanie. Where’s your house key?”
She gave him a sly smile. “My pocket.”
“Well, get it so I can get you inside.”
“No.”
Caleb dropped his forehead to rest against hers and sighed. “Come on, Mel, be a sport. Give me your key.”
“You have to kiss me first.”
Caleb jerked his head up. In the glow of the utility light he stared at her, stunned. “I take it back. You’re drunker than I thought. Give me your key.”
Her bottom lip poked out. “You’re not gonna kiss me?”
“We did that the other night, remember? I got the impression you wished we hadn’t. Now be a pal and give me your key.”
“I know you liked kissing me.”
“Sugarpie, a dead man would like kissing you.” Please, God, let her be too drunk to remember I said that. “Now give me your key.”
That sly smile she gave him a moment ago returned. “Why don’t you get it yourself?”
Sweat popped out along his upper lip. He could almost feel his hand pushing into her pocket, feeling the shape of her beneath a single layer of fabric.
He braced his hands on her shoulders. “If I have to get it myself I’m going to hold you upside down by your ankles and shake you until the key falls out.”
Now her pout came back. “You’re no fun.” She jammed her right hand into her front pocket and pulled out a key. And promptly dropped it. “Oops.” Giggle. Hic.
Caleb spent the next several minutes on his hands and knees, in the semidark, swearing, until he finally found the key on the edge of the bottom step.
“Eureka!” Melanie cried with a wave of her arms that nearly sent her tumbling off the steps.
“Whoa, there.” Caleb caught her by the arm and steadied her. While he unlocked the door, she moaned.
“Caleb?”
“Here we go.” He pushed open the door and reached inside and turned on the kitchen light.
She swayed against him. “Caleb, is this room s’pose to be spinning?”
“Oh no you don’t.” He swept her into the room and closed the door. “Don’t you dare pass out or get sick on me.”
She leaned against him. “I think I need to…”
“I hope you’re going to say lie down.” He helped her across the kitchen and down the hall. Caleb got her through her bedroom door and lowered her to sit on the side of the bed.
She fell back, her arms spread wide. “Ahhh.”
Caleb turned on the bedside lamp. “You’re not sick?”
“Nope. I’m fine, fine, fine.” She looked at him and wiggled her eyebrows. “You’re lookin’ pretty fine yourself, Lips.”
“I’ll ignore that. Let’s get these boots off.” He straightened her on the bed, then tugged off her boots, leaving her thick white socks on. “Better?”
“Mmm.” She flexed her toes. “Oh, yeah.” She tugged her shirttail free and unbuckled her belt.
Caleb swallowed. “What are you doing?”
“Getting comfor—” She unzipped her jeans. “Comorb—” With a wiggle of her hips she started tugging the denim down her hips. “Comftorble.”
He stood beside the bed, helpless to stop her, helpless to look away. Had her legs always been that long, that perfect?
With a final kick of her feet the jeans did a neat little soar-and-dive and fell into a puddle on the floor.
Caleb couldn’t look anymore. He reached across her and tugged the comforter until it covered her from the waist down. Feeling much better, and not a little proud of himself, he propped his hands on his hips and wished he knew why she’d felt the need to drink the way she had tonight. “Need anything else?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
She crooked a finger at him. “Come here.”
He stepped closer. “What do you need?”
“Come cos— Closer. Come closer.”
“I’m right here, Mel.”
She wiggled sideways on the bed, then patted the space beside her hip. “Here.”
Caleb sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her. “What is it? Are you sick?”
“No.” She shook her head, then closed her eyes and moaned. “Oh, I shouldn’t have done that. Remind me not to move my head again.”
“Don’t move your head again.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You want to tell me why you did this to yourself?”
“You wanna kiss me again?”
If she had needed to get his attention, she sure did it. “What?” he asked, certain that he did not want her to repeat the question.
“You liked kissing me.”
“Melanie…”
She reached up and traced a finger across his mouth. “You’ve got great lips.”
Caleb jerked his head back. Letting her touch his lips was not a good idea. Not when he wanted—badly—to taste hers. “Three pitchers of beer, huh?”
She slipped her hands around his neck and locked her fingers together. “And your point is?”
“Come on, Mel, let go.”
“Not until you tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
She licked her lips. “Tell me you liked kissing me.”
Lamplight glistened along her moist mouth, making him want to groan. Instead, he swallowed. “I liked kissing you.”
“Then do it again.” She tugged him closer.
“And have you accuse me tomorrow that I took advantage of you?”
A giggle escaped her. “Oh, goody. You’re going to take advantage of me?”
“I am not.” He pulled her hands from behind his neck, but she then slid them around his chest. “Come on, quit fooling around.”
“Well, that’s typical. All I wanted was a kiss, and you want to fool around.”
“If you weren’t three sheets to the wind I might just give you what you think you want.”
“Promises, promises. Come here.” She tugged sharply, throwing him off balance. He caught himself on his forearms before crushing her beneath his weight. “You don’t have to take advantage of me. I’ll take advantage of you.”
“Melanie.”
“Caleb. I’ve never known you to talk so much. Are you scared of me?”
Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that she wasn’t slurring her words quite as much as she had been, but the thought disappeared, along with his common sense, when he admitted, “Terrified.”
But really, he thought, gazing into her eyes and on down that pert nose to
those soft lips. What would it hurt if he kissed her? She wanted him to. And in the morning she probably wouldn’t even remember it.
And that was disgusting. She didn’t know what she was doing. He had never taken advantage of a woman in his life. He wasn’t about to start with a trusted friend. This was Melanie, for crying out loud. She trusted him. He couldn’t betray that trust.
“I’ll be gentle,” she whispered.
“Melanie.”
“Are you going to make me beg?”
All the strength went out of his knees, his arms. He lowered toward her until there was nothing but a scant breath separating his mouth from hers. Then there was nothing at all, because he was unable to stop himself from taking what she offered. Giving what she asked for.
Her taste was hot and sweet, with a hint of beer that made him smile against her mouth.
When she traced his lower lip with her tongue, he forgot all about smiling. He forgot he shouldn’t be kissing his friend. He forgot that she probably didn’t know what she was doing. He forgot his own name. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care what his name was—he knew hers. It was Melanie. Sweet, sweet Melanie, who could be as soft as an angel one minute, sharp as a blade the next, and just now, in his arms—how had his arms come to be around her?—as fiery and lethal as a bolt of lightning.
Then suddenly her mouth went slack, her arms slid from around his back to fall to her sides on the bed.
Caleb raised his head and looked at her. “Melanie?”
Her eyes were closed. She had passed out.
It was a sign, Caleb thought as he pushed himself up and off of her.
Damn. He didn’t even remember crawling on top of her. Another few minutes and he might have done something they would both be a lot sorrier for than a simple kiss or two.
Not that kissing Melanie even began to resemble simple. They had too much history between then, as neighbors, as friends, for them to change the status quo without some careful consideration.
He looked down at her sweet, familiar face, her sable-brown hair spread out messily across the pillow. He was halfway toward touching that hair when he stopped himself and backed away. He had no business touching her while she slept. No business standing over her, watching her.
The Other Brother Page 4
