Page 9 of Merry Mischief List

If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s not to argue with a drunk, sad, determined woman. I put my hands up, signaling a forfeit. “Deal.”

She cashes out, and we make our way towards the exit.

“You drive here?” I ask, attempting to mask my concern considering she clearly can’t operate a vehicle in this condition.

“Nope. Didn’t intend on needing a ride until a week from now,” she huffs, then releases a soft laugh. “Well, notthatkind of ride, anyway.”

I choose to ignore her sexual innuendo and glance towards the taxi bay at the variety of men waiting for a new fare. Two headlines flash before my eyes.

Student Murdered By Taxi Driver After Being Abandoned By CBU’s Head Coach At Tampa International Airport. Why Was He Too Busy to Give Her A Ride?

Or the alternative…

CBU Head Coach Takes Home Drunk Student. Which Head Was He Thinking With?

I decide the one where Andi doesn’t end up in a ditch somewhere seems to be the better alternative.

“I’ll take you home,” I say.

She eyes me skeptically. “It’s fine. I’ll take an Uber.”

Student Murdered by Uber Driver…

“It’s really no problem,” I assure her. “I’m heading back that way anyways.”Liar.

It’s not like she knows where I live. When I got the job at CBU, I decided to keep my place in Tampa since the commute is perfectly reasonable. It’s actually my favorite part of the day. A half hour with whatever audiobook I’m listening to and no one bothering me.Heaven.It also allows me to keep my work and private life as separate as possible. No head coach wants to run into players every time they go to dinner or the grocery store.

Andi clutches her small carry-on, swaying back and forth on her heels. “Fine. I guess you can give me a ride.”

We start towards the parking garage, and she stumbles over the curb. I throw my arm out, catching her seconds before she face-plants onto the concrete.

“Okay, Cupcake,” I say, hooking her arm around my waist as I grab her bags. “Hold on to me so we don’t end up having to take you to the hospital instead of your dorm.”

“Whatever, buzzkill,” she groans.

We finally arrive at my car, and I help Andi into the passenger seat before putting our things in the trunk. I hop in the driver’s side, and she’s already leaned the chair back, making herself at home and looking completely relaxed. Like she belongs there.

Andi spends a few minutes going through the radio stations as I pull us onto the dark highway, and then she relaxes into the seat, humming some Christmas song by Michael Bublé.Why does this bring me a sense of relief?She’s a far cry from the stressed-out woman at the bar.The stressed-out woman who’s your ex’s younger sister.I grip the steering wheel, cursing myself for relishing in her comfort.

“So what are you gonna do now?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.

I’m about to repeat the question when a loud snorting sound fills the small space. My eyes swing briefly from the road to Andi, and not only has she fallen asleep, but she’s fully snoring. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Piglet’s taken up residence on my passenger seat. I attempt to wake her, but she doesn’t budge. I quickly realize the pitcher of sangria might have been a bit too much, even for her tall, muscular body to tolerate.

“Andi…” I say louder, shaking her shoulder. Not even a single movement.

Shit.

After a few more failed attempts to wake her up, I pull into a rest area, cursing myself for not asking where she lived as soon as we got in the car.

* * *

It’s seven a.m., and I’ve already had my morning protein shake, run three miles, done today’s weight training, listened to an hour of my audiobook, and now I’m dialing the one person I talk to whenever I’ve done anything remotely interesting. He picks up on the third ring.

“I know I said call anytime… but seven a.m.? That’s kinda pushing it,” he grumbles as if he hasn’t already completed the same morning routine. Minus the audiobook because he claims actuallyreadinga book is better for the mind.

“There’s a cheerleader in my bed…” I say, glancing in my bedroom at Andi.

“One of mine?” he asks, referring to the Tampa Bay Barracudas cheerleaders from the NFL team he plays on. The team where we played together before I had a career-ending injury after only five years on the job.

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