“How about another drink?” I offered in a hopeful voice.

“Pants,” she said in a low voice. “Now.”

“You’re sure?” I cursed a blue streak in my head. I was about to show her my ass. Our first naked moment was about to happen at Goldy’s Bar and Grill, which was like the equivalent of an Applebee’s.

Rock on.

“Do it.” She smacked me in the shoulder, then walked back around to face me. Bad idea. Really, really bad idea. In the history of bad ideas—this one fell at least at a one or two.

“Fine.” I told my body to stay relaxed, but the minute it heard relax it thought of the opposite. Rigid.

Great, so I was going to salute her.

Naked.

A naked salute.

Would crying make me seem less masculine?

“We don’t have all night.” She rolled her eyes, still a bit unsteady on her feet. Maybe she would be too drunk to remember? One could only hope.

With a jerk I pulled my jeans down to my feet and waited.

Milo gasped and covered her mouth. But her eyes didn’t leave me. She drank me in like I was a freaking Greek god—and my body responded like Marvel had just written my name in one of its comic books, I could have sworn I felt my shoulders broaden, my chest grow to epic proportions.

“What the hell!” a male voice shouted.

I looked up.

A horrified Jason stood at the door, his eyes taking in the scene around him. “What the . . .” With an abrupt turn he tried to leave the room and slammed into the door, then stumbled backward, just as Max appeared.

“Hey, you find my wallet?” He swayed. “Holy shit! Do you take pills or something?”

Needless to say I pulled my pants up at the precise moment that Milo held her stomach and then ran over to the trashcan and started puking.

I flinched, hoping it wasn’t my nakedness that had caused the nausea.

“Badass.” Max laughed. “You have that effect on all women or just mine?”

I glared.

Jason rubbed his jaw. “Worst. Wedding. Ever.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MILO

“I’m dying!” I shouted for the third time as the cold air hit me in the face. “Seriously, my stomach is churning.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have drank that much,” Colton said in a fatherly voice that made me want to jump out of the moving vehicle and flag down a semi.

“You taunted me.”

“Ah, so it’s my fault.”

“Keep your pants on!” I snapped, and then giggled. “Oh, wait . . .”

“Hilarious, Milo.”

“Tell me.” Yeah, the alcohol was totally talking at the moment. “Do you always wear pants without boxers or is that new?”

“We should have this conversation when you’re not sticking your head out of the car window like my golden retriever.”

“Colton.” I reached for his arm and squeezed. “Damn. Do you live at the gym or something? And how is that even fair to people like me?”

“People like you—”

“Women everywhere!” I threw my hands into the air. “How do we compete? How do we settle when the bar’s so damn high we have to get a freaking ladder to even touch it?”

Colton cleared his throat. “I don’t necessarily think that—”

“And then when you dropped your pants!”

The car swerved to the right.

“I mean holy shit, Colt! It’s like you want other men to hate you!”

The car hit one of the rumble strips on the right, then swerved to the left.

“Ah, cat, I saw a cat.”

“And really.” I let out a heavy sigh, finally feeling better about getting everything off my chest. “What do you expect, huh? What do you expect from us girls? Of course I’m going to be obsessed with you! You’re just . . .” I shook the fuzz from my head as my vision doubled, then tripled. “You’re just . . .”

“What?” he whispered.

I couldn’t have kept my eyes open even if I’d tried. Instead I slumped into the seat and closed them, but not before whispering, “Mine, Colt. You’ve always been mine.”

We rounded the corner of her parents’ house. Milo was completely out—as in I’m pretty sure she was dreaming of a giant tequila monster and wishing she hadn’t had that last shot.

Sighing, I turned off the car, got out, and went over to her side. Crazy how peaceful she looked when she slept. Of course that was a total false representation of how Milo actually lived day-to-day life. She was like a freaking bomb that went off for twelve hours straight only to reset itself every night so it could repeat the process the next morning.

“Come on, sweetheart.” I pulled her from the seat and carried her inside the house. The lights were turned down low—so nobody had stayed up to make sure she was all right, or that I was all right, for that matter.

Jason and Max had quickly left the bar, both of their faces red as they mumbled something about seeing me back at the house.

Wasn’t that the story of my life, though? In the end, it was always me and Milo. Jason had always trusted me with her. And in return? She’d always trusted me with herself. Never once having to worry about being safe or protected.

I took the stairs one at a time, a heaviness settling on my shoulders as I fought with two desires: to just tell her I knew everything and kiss the hell out of her, and to make her suffer.