Page 16 of Stetson

Both sets of eyes went back to their laps. I was a sports agent, damn it, not a parent. But sometimes it felt a lot like wrangling children. Or chickens. Or both. Especially when I was constantly dealing with one of them getting hurt—or sick. I sighed when Harrison gagged.

“Harrison, there’s a bathroom under the stairs.”

“Thank you,” he muttered before bolting off the stool.

Stetson pulled the towel tighter around him, shivering. I suddenly felt sorry for him. Hehadsat right under the vent, and my hot-blooded ass kept the air on full blast. It was spring, but it was spring inGeorgia. In other words, wildly unpredictable. “Upstairs,” I told him. “Take a warm shower. You remember your way?”

He nodded and rose from his seat a little more carefully than Harrison had. Out of the two, he seemed the most sober, which possibly meant that he’d been streaking out of sheer stupidity. He was nowhere near the blackout state from before. “Thank you for picking us up,” he whispered sheepishly.

“You’re welcome.” He passed me and headed for the stairs, but I called out to him again before his foot could touch the bottom step. “Coffee or tea?”

“Huh?”

“Assuming you’re not vomiting or passed out after your shower, you should come down for a drink to warm up. Coffee or tea?”

When I was met with silence, I paused. Stetson shuffled in place, tracing an invisible shape on the banister.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Can I have hot chocolate?” he pouted, blue eyes shining in the dim light.

Warmth spread through my chest. How in the hell was I supposed to say no? “Is regular milk okay?”

He nodded, eyes hopeful.

“Then yes. Go. I’ll find something dry for you to put on.”

I called Harrison’s brother and once he was finished expelling the tequila from his system, I poured him into the car and raided my drawers for something for Stetson to wear.

I hadn’t heard from him at all since opening day. If I was honest, I was starting to lose hope. Then I got that call from Harrison that he’d been snatched by park security, and when I showed up to claim him, Stetson sat right next to him.

If Stetson didn’t run out of here, I’d have to thank the troublemaker.

I was heating the milk on the stove when I heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs. He stopped when he saw me, wet clothes and towel in hand. Damn, he looked good in my shirt. I indicated the door behind him. “Put them straight in the washing machine.”

I poured steaming milk into two mugs, then added the hot chocolate powder. “I have an important question for you.”

Defeated, Stetson trudged into the kitchen. “Is it ‘Do I take my career seriously?’”

“Jumbo or mini marshmallows?”

At first, his brows scrunched together in confusion, then he relaxed into a smile. “Mini.”

I tossed them his way and he caught them midair. “Cream?”

“If you drink hot chocolatewithoutcream, I’m leaving this house right now.”

By the time I’d retrieved the can from the fridge, Stetson had claimed the bag of jumbo marshmallows too and was stuffing one in his mouth. “You’ll get sick off all that sugar.”

“Sugar sick is better than tequila sick,” he garbled through the candy. I grunted in agreement. The shower seemed to have sobered him up, at least. “Where’s Harrison?”

“His brother picked him up. Once you finish your drink I’ll take you home.”

Stetson made a sound that could only be described as a yelp. “You okay? You don’t actually feel sick do you?”

There was a moment where I thought vomiting was imminent, and I prepared myself to leap into action. “Drink went down the wrong way,” he finally said, but those marshmallows were suddenly much more interesting than I was.

“What’s the matter?”

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