Page 18 of Feels Like Home

“Oh?”

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

“Did you have funtonight?”

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

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

“Well that’sembarrassing.”

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

“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 ofprogress.

“Not a chance. I’m walking youin.”

“What about theboys?”

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 onhers.

“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’reokay.”

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

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

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

“What?”

I honestly don’t think she realizes what she justsaid.

“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'mpathetic.

“Brihome?”

“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 hereyebrows.

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

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

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

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 entireyear.

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’sreallygross.

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 asrude.

“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, butsmellittoo.

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

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

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