Page 84 of Love Sick

“To have sex around the corner,obviously,” Grace slurs and waves vaguely toward the dark area beside the house. “Isn’t that what everyone thinks?”

“Nope!” I yell, drawing far too much attention. She doesn’t need that rumor added to the mill. “Nope. No, no, no. That didn’t happen. Nope.”

From the shadows behind Raven, Asher scowls and disappears inside.

Drunk Grace glares at me. “It was ajoke. God! Could you proclaim your disgust any louder?”

Disgust?Disgust?

Chuckles follow her words, but most people turn back to their own conversations.

How on earth does she think that?

But right this second, maybe it’s better if that’s what she thinks. I can get a huffy, irritated Grace home with little fuss. I’ve got more than enough practice with that. It will be far more difficult to cart off a wistful, inebriated Grace who wants me to kiss her.

I shouldn’t kiss her.

Not while she’s drunk and I’m painfully sober.

So I give her my bland smile. “I could probably shout my disgust, if you’d like.”

Alesha, Maxwell and Raven huddle closer to us, eavesdropping. The fire gleaming in Grace’s eyes is fascinating. She’s plotting how to fly me to the deepest circle of hell and make it back in time for shots.

“I will destroy you,” she says in a low purr, and I can’t help it. A fantasy rips through my mind—of her climbing on top of me, forcing me to remain still while she rides me like her own personal vibrator.

I think she’s already destroyed me.

“Good luck,” I say. “You ready to go home?”

Alesha laughs and pulls Grace into a hug, whispering in her ear.

Maxwell bumps my shoulder as I shake his hand, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You finally getting lucky tonight, bruh?”

“She’s drunk, Max.”

Maxwell shoots a pointed look at Grace, who’s witch-cackling at something Alesha said. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Sucks for you.”

“Story of my life.”

I wrestle her into my truck, making sure her seat belt is buckled tight. Halfway home, Grace’s head lolls toward me. “You’re not really disgusted by me, are you?”

“No,” I say at once, glancing her way. “You’re beautiful.”

Her pleased smile hits me right in the chest, and she proceeds to do one of the best things a woman can—she accepts the compliment. No apologies. No humble disagreement. No questions designed to pull more praise from me. She meets my eyes and slurs out a warm, “Thank you. That’s really nice to hear.”

I pat her hand.

“How come you offered to DD?” she asks.

“So you could have fun.”

“We could have shared an Uber.”

My thumb kicks a steady tap on the steering wheel. “It’s—it’s just better if I’m not drunk around you.”

She sits straighter, but still slurs her answer. “That’s an intriguing statement I’d like explained further.”

I spare a surreptitious glance at her pretty face. “I tell too much truth when I’m drunk.”

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