Page 24 of Trustfall

“Guess you underestimated me,” I say as I grab Emory’s waist with my good arm and haul her over my shoulder. At first, she’s completely still, probably stunned because she didn’t think I would actually do it. But then something clicks in her brain, and she starts kicking and banging her fists against my back.

“Let me down. Luke, I swear to God. Let me down right now!”

Backwards Hat walks toward me like he’s about to put up a fight, but Allie shoots him a look that has him stopping dead in his tracks and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Allie. Are you seriously letting him do this right now?” Emory screams as I push open the door, but Allie just shakes her head.

“You made your bed, babe.”

Emory huffs in frustration and continues her yelling and kicking until the three of us get to my truck. I place her down gently next to the passenger side, opening the door to let Allie climb into the back. She straightens out her crumpled dress and attempts to fix her hair.

“Get in the truck, Emory.”

“No.”

“Emory,” I warn.

“No. You can’t storm into a bar and carry me out like a fucking caveman and then expect me to obey your orders.”

“Emory. Just—get in the truck, and we can talk about it.”

“Make me.” Her hands are placed firmly on her hips now. Her eyeliner is slightly smudged, and one of the straps of her dress is falling off her shoulder. I’d be irritated as all hell if I didn’t love seeing that fire in her eyes again.

And God, do I want to make her.

Make her get in the car.

Make her bounce on my cock.

Make her come until she screams…

But I know that’s not what she needs right now. She needs to go home. She needs water and painkillers. She needs to go to bed, and in this moment, my desire to take care of her outweighs my desire to fuck the brat out of her.

“We’re back to that?” I say as calmly as I can muster. “Do you remember what happened two minutes ago when you gave me an ultimatum?”

The eye roll she gives me can probably be seen from the moon.

I try again, using an even softer tone this time. “Emory, get in the car, and I will take you to any drive-thru you want.”

Instantly, her anger melts, and she squeals and claps her hands.

And she says I giveherwhiplash?

She hops into the front seat, and I buckle her seatbelt for her. She eyes my hands as I do it, but doesn’t say anything.

Twenty minutes later, Emory is happily munching on chicken nuggets while Allie looks on in horror from the backseat.

“You could have had leftover za’atar chicken and farro salad when we got home,” she says in exasperation.

Emory scrunches up her face. “I don’t even know how to respond to that. That isnotdrunk food. And chicken nuggets are elite.”

Allie sighs and leans against the window. “No one even says that anymore,” she mutters, but I doubt Emory hears her. She is in her own little world and thoroughly blissed out.

By the time we pull into their driveway, Emory is fast asleep, quietly snoring, with chicken nugget crumbs scattered all over her dress, still grasping the greasy fast-food bag in her hands. I hop out to let Allie out of my side. I want to bring Emory into her house and make sure she gets settled in bed, but again, I don’t want to overstep. Allie needed help getting her out of the club, but she never mentioned tucking her into bed. Plus, I have no idea how much Allie knows about what happened between us.

“I guess I’ll wake her up,” Allie says, sliding out of the truck.

She goes to walk around just as her phone rings. She grabs it from her purse, looks down at it, and then back up at me.

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