Page 18 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

“I’m not hurt.”

“You could’ve sprained your ankle.”

“I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t put any pressure on it.”

“Let’s be safe and not test that.” I stop in front of the keypad to my garage. “Can you open it up and type in my code? 1017?”

“Sure,” she says, though at the angle I’m holding her, it’s not the easiest. And let’s be real, she’s probably seeing double after what she drank tonight. The fact she hasn’t passed out yet is impressive and a little terrifying.

“Ta-da!” she exclaims as the door to my attached garagebegins to open. “Also, you must be a very trusting person if you gave me your garage code before you even know my real name.”

I turn the door handle into my laundry room without dropping her. “If your drunk ass can find your way back to this house, and remember the code, I’ll let you break in. No questions asked.”

“Deal,” she says, and I have to chuckle as I hear her mumbling 0217 over and over again. “Here, let’s get you down. I need to let my dog out then I’ll get you ice for the ankle. And water for your liver.”

“Thanks, Cap. You’re too kind.”

I put her down in the living room as an excited Winnie comes racing through the house. I never leave her home this long alone, so I know she has to be dying to go outside.

“Oh my gosh! Puppy!” she squeals.

“She thinks she is,” I say as I guide my golden retriever, Winnie, to the patio door to let her outside. “She’s seven but has the excitement of a two-year-old.”

I leave Tiger as I hear her going on and on about what kind of dog she would want as I hurry to the kitchen to grab supplies. I’m glad she’s talking because that’s keeping her awake. The last thing I need is for her to pass out before she drinks at least one glass of water and takes a few aspirin. As I make my way back to the living room, I hear her laughter filling the air.

"Care to share what's so funny?"

"I always wanted to be carried over the threshold on my wedding night. Guess I still got my wish."

Fuck...I never even thought of that.

"I'm sorry," I say as I sit next to her. “I didn't mean?—"

"Don't apologize,” she says. “You’re the last person to apologize for anything. Plus, I need to thank you. I haven't said that tonight, and I should have said it no less than a hundred times.”

"You don't need to thank me."

"Yes, I do. You didn't need to come over and help me at thebar. You could’ve said no when I asked you to stay with me. So thank you. This day was shit, but you made it a little less shitty."

Warmth runs through my body at her praise. "I couldn't have left you."

"Most men would've."

"I'm not most men."

There's a moment between us...an electricity of some sort, but I quickly shut it down as I grab her ankle and bring it up to my lap so I can apply the ice pack.I begin to take off her shoes when I notice my hunch from earlier was right.

Stilettos. With a red sole.

Fuck me.

I might be a country boy at heart, but a woman in stilettos will be my downfall every single time.

Snap out of it. Right. The fuck. Now.You're drunk. And horny. It's been a while, but that's no excuse to be thinking any sort of thoughts about Tiger. She's drunk and depressed and had a hell of a day and is no less than ten years younger than you.

“You know I used to be that girl.”

I don't know what she's talking about, but I'm grateful for the change of subject.

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