"Put me down!" she shrieked in a voice that was half squeak, half slur. 

It was really cute.

I obliged her, setting her gently back down on her feet. "You were going to fall," I explained. Then stepped back.

Even when she was as drunk as a sorority girl during Rush Week, Rachel Walker was beautiful. She had the kind of beauty that crept up on you. I’d first met her when my brother explained that he needed me to come be his wingman. I was tasked with dealing with his girlfriend’s housemate so they could engage in some serious PDA without Everly feeling guilty about it. My first impression of Rachel was that she was a shy girl who was weirdly oblivious to my pop culture references and deflected most questions I asked her about what she liked to do. It wasn’t until the second time we hung out that I noticed how shiny her long braided hair was. The third get-together I noticed the amber flakes in her brown eyes. By the fourth meeting, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the way her hands fluttered like birds when she got excited and was willing to make a complete fool of myself just to see the pretty way her cheeks pinkened when she thought she was being bad. I started keeping an eye out for her around town and calling to check in with her at night. Slowly, without me really noticing, Rachel Walker had become someone I cared about.

And I took care of the people I cared about.

That’s why, when I saw her stumbling to the front door like that, I’d immediately jumped up to follow. Which was why I had been there to catch her when she fell.

Now she was looking at me through half-slitted eyes. Probably trying to understand why I'd picked her up in the first place. Sure I'd caught her before she pitched forward and wrecked that pretty face of hers on the blacktop. But I definitely didn't need to keep holding her cradled against me for several paces. 

I exhaled. That had been for me. I took advantage of the situation to have her in my arms for a second. But she was drunk, and that definitely made me an asshole. 

Fuck.

"Can you walk?" I asked, putting a steadying - friendly - hand on her shoulder. "I'm right here if you need to lean on me."

"I'm fine," she mumbled, and very deliberately put one foot in front of the other, making sure it was fully planted before lifting her back foot. She looked like she was walking on some planet with stronger gravity and the way she was concentrating was so adorable I had to bite back a laugh. I had a feeling she wasn't in a laughing mood. 

"Good," I said, instead of laughing. "I'll just walk you home then."

"You don't have to," she said quickly. 

I shrugged and tried to look like I wasn't watching her every move. "It's a nice night," I said. 

And it was. There was still a bite of chill in the air, but it had softened enough that it felt good to be out without a jacket. The rush of the creek from last month's flood had died into a burble after a month with no rain, and the gentle shushing sound was a soothing backdrop to the quiet evening. Above us, the little spring peepers trilled out their high, piping calls, talking to each other in the trees. That was probably my favorite sound in the world. 

Second favorite, I thought to myself when Rachel spoke up. "You were watching me," she said. 

She turned her head to look at me as she said this, which made her stumble a little. I reached out a steadying hand. "Was I?" I said, even though I very clearly was. I hadn't been able to keep my eyes off her the whole party. Even when my twin brother Finn was talking to me, I was still captivated by the sight of her dancing. Even when I was talking to Gabe and Everly, I'd been worriedly counting the number of drinks she'd been buying. 

I had no right. I knew that. For one thing, it was her business how much she cut loose. Hell, if anyone had a right to party hard, it was Rachel Walker. I only had the vaguest inkling what she went through, growing up in that environment, but I definitely understood why she'd want to break free of it. She had every reason to go crazy. 

The problem was that she had no idea what she was doing. I was pretty sure that growing up in a restrictive, fundamentalist cult didn't exactly prepare you for knowing your own boundaries. Which was another reason I had no right to have my eye on her the way I did. Rachel was a grown woman - beautifully grown too - but she had the life experience of a young child. She was naive and sheltered and she trusted me to be her friend. 

"I guess I was," I confessed. Then I lied. "Just a friend looking out for a friend, right?" It was such a bold-faced lie, but Rachel was pure enough to believe it. 

"Just a friend?" she repeated. "Really?"

Damn how soft her voice sounded. Damn that note of pleading. I was this close to kissing her already and her wide-opened eyes weren't helping. "Yeah," I grunted and looked away from her. At the rising moon, the fading light in the sky, the first stars winking into existence. Anywhere but at that face, those lips. She was drunk, and I was not an asshole. 

She opened her mouth, about to say something, but mistimed her odd, heavy steps. She stumbled, pitching forward.

It was all instinct. I had her back in my arms before my next breath, sweeping her up to cradle her against my chest. "I've got you," I said, and that was instinct too. 

The light was draining from the sky, but there was enough shining down from the streetlights so that I could see the way she was looking through her lashes at me. And if I didn't see that, I could feel the slow slide of her fingertips before she laced them around my neck. Her lips parted a little and I spotted the pretty pink of her tongue. The blood was pounding in my ears and every part of me was laser focused on that mouth. I could feel it already, the softness, the slow slide of that pretty tongue against mine. I was already bending my head to kiss her when she closed her eyes all the way. "Yoou'ff got meee," she slurred. 

That slur went through me like a jolt of electricity. Instantly I straightened back up again. My blood still felt super-heated, but it was cooling rapidly. 

She's drunk, Beau. You fucking asshole. She's completely shitfaced drunk. 

I clenched my teeth together and started to jog. She made a little whooping sound as her head jostled, and then rested it against my chest. With every jogging step I cursed myself for how wrong I was for enjoying how it felt there, but at least I wasn't trying to kiss her anymore.  

The little three room cabin she shared with Everly was situated on a spit of land that bordered the creek. Even though it was only a half a mile from the bar, and she was pretty light, my arms were still burning by the time I reached their sunken porch. "Rachel," I whispered.

"Mmm," she protested, half asleep. 

"I need your keys."

"Pocket," she mumbled, snuggling into my neck and sighing. 

"Jesus," I hissed through my clenched teeth. I braced her up with my knee against the porch rail and then slid my hand into her pocket. I wasn't feeling the heat of her thighs, I wasn't thinking about how close my hand was to... to... "Rachel, can you stand up for me?" I growled, setting her down a little too roughly.

She was too drunk to notice how I tugged at the crotch of my jeans. She just leaned against the side of the house and mumbled something before smiling. I was clenching my teeth so hard I was getting a headache. "Thank fuck," I muttered when I finally got the door unlocked. "Can you make it in?"

She mumbled again, her head lolling. Fuck, she was really far gone. I stepped in, catching her just as she pitched forward. "Okay," I winced as my hand accidentally brushed her breasts. "Fuck, ah, okay, right in here, right? Let's get you in bed. Right, good girl, just like that, no, lie on your side, here, I'll get the wastepaper basket." I set it on the floor right next to her head. "There."

"...iced tea," she slurred. 

"What was that?"

But she passed out. 

I stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. Her waist length hair was tumbled all over her in a curtain, which would get pretty gross if she ended up puking. With my lips pressed together, I gathered the silky strands up in my fist, pulling them back from her face and then tucking them all back into her shirt. She let out a muttering sigh and shifted in her sleep, then moaned. 

"Okay," I said aloud. "You're okay now, right?" Of course there was no answer. I shifted in place, watching her breathing even out. “You're going to be fine now," I said, more for my benefit. But I still wasn't moving away from her. I still wasn't leaving her alone. 

I couldn't leave her alone. 

"Fuck it," I grumbled. I took one more look at the beautiful face, those plump, parted lips. 

Then I undressed and made a pillow of my clothes. I checked her one more time, then fell asleep on her floor.