Devlin didn’t seem to understand the concept of the school bus. “But what about my SUV?” he asked for the third time pointing in the exact opposite direction of where we’d parked.

“Honey, none of us can drive. That’s what the school bus is for. They’re gonna drive us home.”

“But, what about my car?” he asked again.

I grabbed his face in my hands, enjoying the feel of his beard on my palms. “I’ll drive you back for it tomorrow.”

“Mokah,” he said, finally appeased.

I released his cheeks. Bootleg took our fast pitch softball seriously like all our good times. That’s why there was a fleet of school buses waiting to drive everyone home. The visiting teams were always required to have their own bus and designated drivers who could enjoy all-you-can-eat hot dogs during the games.

Wednesdays were known as Wasted Wednesday in Bootleg. Everyone was too hungover to do much of anything besides eat greasy foods and tell everyone else to keep it down.

Devlin had held his liquor better than I expected. He was still on his feet. Bowie and Jameson were dragging Jonah onto the bus singing a truly horrible version of “Friends in Low Places.” I pulled him into a seat and took the aisle to pin him to the window if need be.

“You’re so pretty, Scarlett,” he said staring at me with one eye.

“You’re pretty far gone, huh, Dev?”

He shook his head. “I am drunk. I’ll concede on that point. But there’s just something about you. I think I like you a lot,” he added in a loud whisper.

“I think I like you a lot too,” I said, amused.

“You’re like a shot... of...”

“Moonshine?” I suggested.

He shook his head and rapped it off the window. “Ow. No, more like whiskey. You go down with a kick.”

That was a compliment I could appreciate. “Well, thanks, Dev. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I want to kiss you.”

I think he meant to whisper it, but it came out at full volume.

“Oooooooh!” the bus’s occupants crooned.

“Hey, Scar, did Devlin pass you a note during third period asking if you liked him?” Cassidy asked, her head popping up over the seat.

“Do you want me to write you a note?” he asked with a frown.

“You should definitely write her a note,” Buck agreed.

“I’ve got a pen and paper,” Opal called helpfully from two rows back.

“Y’all are the worst.”

Fifteen minutes later, I helped Devlin and Jonah stagger off the bus at my place with a sweetly scrawled note from Devlin in my back pocket.

“Jonah, you go on ahead,” Devlin decided. “I’m gonna stay here and kiss your sister.”

“‘K,” Jonah said waving and stumbling over a hydrangea in the flowerbed he was wading through.

I clapped my hands to get his attention. “Through the woods, Jonah. Not through the flowerbeds.”

“‘K,” he said again and walked into a tree.

“He’ll be fine,” Devlin said optimistically.

“Let’s get you some water, big guy.” I led him into the house. We made it as far as the foyer before Devlin grabbed me and pinned me against the door. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Okay,” I breathed.

His mouth seemed to operate just fine under the influence. I certainly had no complaints.

“God,” I breathed. Devlin crushed his lips to mine and hoisted me up, wrapping my legs around his hips.

When he touched me, it felt like I had straight whiskey flowing through my veins. He wasn’t gentle with me, and I liked that. I liked him rough around the edges, not tip-toeing around being careful.

I just wanted more and more of him. His muscles bunched under the cotton of his t-shirt as he held me there suspended between him and the wood of the door.

“I can’t get enough,” he whispered.

I was dizzy with it. His words, his touch, his taste. I wanted it all and so much more. I ached for him.

He shoved his hand under my shirt and the feel of his skin against mine made me moan against his mouth.

“Baby, I need you,” he confessed. It almost undid me.

“Dev, we can’t do this,” I whispered.

His hand found my breast through my sports bra, and he made a low rumble in his chest. My head fell back against the door with a thunk. I could feel him harden against me—another body part that didn’t need sobriety to function well. I shifted against him desperate to get some of that friction I was so hungry for.

Every touch left me needy for more.

“Dev,” I gasped when he sank his teeth into my neck. My arm flailed of its own volition and knocked a painting off the wall.

“Mmm?”

“Honey we can’t do this right now,” I told him even as I helped him wrestle my shirt over my head.

He pulled back looking dazed, and I felt his cock pulse against me. I shivered with dark, carnal thoughts. “We can’t do this because you’re drunk.”

“Pretty sure all the important parts are working,” he said. His cock throbbed in agreement.

I gave a strangled laugh. Never in my life had I been in this position before. “No, I mean, I don’t know if you really want to do this because you’re drunk or because you want me.”

He shifted his hips against me, and I purred like a damn cat when his erection rubbed in exactly the right spot. “I’m sure I want to.”

“You are killing me right now, Devlin. I need you to be sober as a judge and then tell me you want me. That’s the only way this is going to happen.”

He dropped his forehead to mine.

“How long do you think it’ll take me to sober up? Five minutes? Ten?”

He let me slide down the door slowly until my feet were on the floor.

I laughed. “Have you ever been drunk before?”

“Pssh. I went to college and law school.”

“But since then?” I pressed.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t help your career to be seen drunk in public.”

“A career in politics sounds really boring.”

“Small price to pay to shape our country,” he said in a deep voice.

“Are you quoting someone?” I picked up my shirt and pulled him down the short hallway to the kitchen. I gave him a gentle push toward a stool.

“My father. That was his answer to everything. I couldn’t play football because it was too brutish. I couldn’t take a summer off and travel Europe because I needed to pad my resume with internships and volunteering.”

“What did you do for fun?” I asked, fascinated.

“Made my parents happy, I guess.”

I pulled my shirt back on. “Well, guess what, Devlin McCallister? Your parents aren’t here. You can do whatever you want for fun.”

“I wouldn’t even know what to do,” he admitted. “I’m still supposed to lay low, so getting into bar fights or tipping cows over wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Cow tipping is not a real thing.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

I set a glass of water in front of him. “Drink up, big guy.”

I turned to the coffeepot and dumped enough in to make a batch of stand-up-and-dance coffee.

“Have you ever been in a kayak before?” I asked. Not that that would be a good idea today when he couldn’t even stand upright.

“A kayak?” he frowned. “I used to row on the weekend in college.”

“Like the rich people sport?” I snorted.

“Poor people can row too,” he said in exasperation.

“What a man of the people you are,” I teased.

“Shut up.”

“Did you always want to be in politics?” I asked.

He nodded. “It was understood from birth that I’d go into politics.”

“That’s not the same as wanting to,” I pointed out.

He frowned, considering my words.

My coffee maker beeped and I poured him a mug. “Cream? Sugar?”

He shook his head. “You have any pizza?”

Forty minutes later, the remains of a very large, very greasy pepperoni and mushroom pizza sat on the coffee table, and Devlin McCallister snored on my couch with his socked feet on the table.

He was adorable. And I wanted the hell out of him. If I didn’t know it would freak him out, I would have taken a picture of him like this.

I decided I’d make entertaining Devlin my new side project. Maybe it was time he found out what he really wanted out of life. And hopefully Sober Devlin really would want me.