“Say what now?” I ask, choking back a laugh.

I’m out to dinner with the guys — Barrett, Josh, and James. Tonight’s dinner has been a good distraction from life in general. But when James informs us that the owner of El Charro, the local Mexican restaurant in town, just called to inform him that his sister and her friends are three sheets to the wind drunk, my ears perk up.

“Well, boys, looks like we have a rescue mission.”

“Oh boy, now the whole Captain America thing is going to your head.” Barrett lightly shoves James, and we all laugh.

Of course, I hope that Christine is included in that group of friends because I want to see her. Any chance I can get anymore, it seems. A week ago, I was in a bad way and all I could think was I need Christine. And she was there. Immediately. No questions asked.

I can’t get her out of my head. Not for a while now but especially not since her scent overwhelmed the cab of my pickup as she listened to me ramble on. She’s everything Heather was not, which is only part of the appeal.

The next morning after our talk at the docks, I walked in to Dreamin’ Beans for a coffee, and the smile she shot my way nearly buckled my knees.

That afternoon, I just so happened to offer to get coffee for my crew.

Such a burden having to see her twice in a day.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” I slap Josh on the back, and he chuckles.

A few minutes into our dinner tonight I may have let it slip that Christine and I had been talking, and there’s no way this nosey group of buggers didn’t pick up on it. In fact, they promised me we would be coming back to that conversation later.

Luckily, their plan was thwarted by learning that Tess and her friends are making a scene at a Mexican restaurant.

When I pull into the parking lot of El Charro, I look around for Christine’s car, pleasantly surprised to see it sitting there. But when we get inside? That’s a horse of a different color. Surprise doesn’t even begin to express what I’m seeing.

Tess and Lauren, Josh’s wife, are slow dancing together while Christine has her phone in the air, swaying back and forth with a blissful smile on her face, encouraging every odd moment that’s happening. Carly has her head on the table, looking like she’s well past her limit. The four of us stand there, staring at the odd performance in front of us, before we individually jump into action.

Tess is in Barrett’s arms in a flash.

Lauren runs to Josh just as quickly but trips over her own two feet along the way and face plants into his chest.

James moves to Carly’s side, his head bent toward hers as she mumbles something. But me? My sole focus is on the curvy, petite, dark-haired beauty before me.

“So. How’s your night?” I ask, a teasing smile on my lips.

“Hi, Andy.” Her voice is quiet, her lips a glossy pink, her eyes sparkling. Everything about her is pulling me to her in this moment.

“Did you guys drink your dinner?”

“We aren’t that bad!” She tries protesting but stumbles into my arms instead.

I catch her, willingly.

“Thanks,” she mumbles into my chest, but I simply tighten my arms around her.

“Anytime,” I murmur and inadvertently press my face into her hair, inhaling deeply.

“Did you just sniff me?” She shifts, looking up at me.

I smile at her. “I did.”

“And? What’s the verdict?”

“You smell like a tequila factory at the moment.” She laughs so hard she folds herself in half. I have to work to hold her up and bring her closer. “But I have no doubt under normal circumstances that you would smell incredible.”

When she finally stops laughing, she says, still smiling, “How do you know that?”

“Because someone as gorgeous as you are couldn’t possibly smell bad.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?”

I cock an eyebrow. “You’re the definition.”

“I hope I remember this in the morning.”

“Me, too,” I admit.

“What are the chances of that happening, do you think?”

I hold up two fingers spaced barely apart. “Probably not very likely.”

She squints and huffs out an angry breath. “Remind me?”

“Of course.”

And that it isn’t a lie. I have no problem reminding her every single day that she’s gorgeous. That realization should have me stumbling. I’m not divorced yet, though the papers are ready to be served. I shouldn’t be having these types of thoughts and feelings for another woman. But they’re there, and I can’t deny them.

“Come on, let me drive you home. I’ll come get you in the morning so we can get your car.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’re pulling into her driveway. Christine is snoring in the passenger seat of my pickup, her head resting against the window. No doubt she’ll be hurting in the morning. I reach across the console, jostling her arm a little, hoping to wake her up.

“Christine, we’re home.”

She mumbles, shifting in her seat, and brings her hands up under her head while pulling her legs up under her, getting more comfortable.

I bite back a laugh while I continue to try waking her up.

“Sweetheart.” I nudge her on the shoulder. “We’re at your house. Time to get up, sleepyhead.”

She sits up quickly, looking around like a frightened puppy. “Where the hell am I?” she shouts then grabs her head and groans.

I chuckle at her confusion. “I drove you home from El Charro. You had just a tad too much to drink tonight.”

She looks over at me, clarity seeming to take over. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

She wipes at the bit of drool on her face and smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“I think so. I’m fairly positive I’ll never be able to set foot in El Charro ever again, though. Did we get kicked out?”

“Nah. The owner called James and just let us know you guys needed rides home.”

“Well that’s embarrassing.”

I chuckle. “It was entertaining to see, that’s for sure.”

“Well, thanks for the ride.” She tries getting out of the pickup and can’t even find the door handle. I put a hand on her arm, stopping her lack of progress.

“Not a chance. I’m walking you in.”

“What about the boys?”

She always asks, and something about that makes my heart feel pretty damn good. Knowing that she cares, has concern for their well-being. Even in her drunken state of mind, they’re on hers.

“They’re old enough to be home by themselves for a bit. I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t know that you’re okay.”

“Andy Simpson. You could charm the panties straight off just about anyone, you know that? You’re like the hottest guy everrrrrrrr.”

I choke on my tongue, not expecting those words to have come out of her mouth.

“What did you say?” I ask her, laughing.

“What?”

I honestly don’t think she realizes what she just said.

“Nothing,” I murmur, a grin taking over my face. But it’s not nothing. In fact, I’ll probably be reliving those words for quite some time. Possibly later tonight. Alone.

Damn I'm pathetic.

“Bri home?”

“Nope,” she ends the P with a pop. “She spent the night at a friend’s house. Why? You wanna come in?” she asks, voice slurring and trying, but failing, to wiggle her eyebrows.

I chuckle again. “Alright, Don Julio, let’s get you inside.” I climb out of the pickup and walk over to her side, helping her down.

“I would make a snarky comment about your nickname, but you know what? I think the tequila sucked up all my brain cells.”

“It does seem as though you all had plenty of it.”

We’re about two steps from the bottom stair of the porch in front of her house when she stops dead in her tracks. “Oh no,” she mumbles and rushes over to the snow-covered bushes before getting rid of what sounds like everything she ate this entire year.

I slowly walk over, knowing my own gag reflex is going to be tested by getting closer. I don’t do well with vomit. I can’t imagine anyone does, but still… it’s really gross.

I pat her lower back, standing back as far away as I possibly can. I wish I had a broom, or stick, or something to touch her with, but that would probably come off as rude.

“There, there,” I say awkwardly, gagging and turning my head while covering my nose with my sleeve when I not only hear her get rid of some of the alcohol, but smell it too.

She laughs at me. “You don’t do puke well, do you?”

“What was your first guess?” My voice is muffled being that my mouth is covered by my coat sleeve.

Gag.

“The fact that you’re not coming very close is a good indicator.” She laughs, standing from her spot and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Gag.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

She waves me off. “No worries. I don’t blame you.”

“Let’s get you inside and” —I gulp, trying not to, but failing miserably, gag again— “cleaned up.”

She bursts out laughing then groans, doubling over again and holding her head. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

I swallow and nod my head resolutely. “I can.”

“Ha! You sound really” —hiccup— “convincing.”

“I can! I promise. Or… I’ll try.”

We make our way inside, and she fumbles for the light switch against the wall. As soon as she flips it on, she leans against the wall.

She moans then slides down the wall and lands with a thump.

“Bri is going to be sooooo disappointed in me,” she mumbles.

I chuckle, looking around her living room. I spot the kitchen and move to it, opening a couple of cupboards until I find the glasses. I fill one with water from the tap and walk back into the living room to find Christine slumped over completely on the floor.

I bend down close to her, her head lifting as she looks up at me. I press the glass to her lips, and she tips her head back, allowing some of the liquid to wash down her throat. After she’s taken a few drinks and seems satisfied, I place the glass on the floor next to her and help her to stand.

“I’m kind of embarrassed.”

“You should be. I’ve never gotten drunk before.”

I hear her scoff. “No one likes a smart ass, Andy,” she teases.

Now it’s my turn to scoff. “Of course, they do. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s the opposite. Everyone loves a smart ass. We keep conversations entertaining.”

She gazes up at me, looking pathetically beautiful. I swipe a chunk of her hair off her sticky forehead, trying not to imagine why it’s sticky in the first place, and tuck it behind her ear.

“You’re gorgeous,” I remind her, wondering if she’ll remember in the morning.

“Right. With puke on my face and in my hair and uggghh…”

“I’ve always thought you were gorgeous, Christine.”

“You have?” she asks, her voice quiet and unsure.

“I have.”

We stand, staring at one another for a few beats before her cheeks puff out and she bolts from my grasp, running down the hall to what I hope is her bathroom.

I take a moment to text the boys and let them know that I’ll be a little longer than I expected before I get home. Their reply is instant, telling me that they are fine and heading to bed.

I stare at my phone, wondering how I got such good kids, willingly going to bed on their own.

I don’t have long to sit and ponder it before I hear some awful noises coming from the direction that Christine just bolted. I pop a piece of cinnamon gum in my mouth, sigh heavily, and head into the battlefield.