Page 4 of One Last Time?
Grandpa was absolutely right. The rum did the trick, and even though Mr. Gorgeous split into two and merged back into one, he looked even more gorgeous. More important was, we were talking. I couldn’t remember what we were talking about, but I knew we were talking about something.
I also had the best idea ever.Oh yes.
I had this relationship thing all wrong, indeed.
I’d been looking for the perfect man thinking he was out there somewhere and if I focused on finding him, I would do it. What I should have been doing was living like a man. If I were a man, I wouldn’t just be sitting here drinking; I’d be out getting laid.
I rose from the barstool with my bottle of rum, swaying on my feet, and looked Mr. Gorgeous up and down.
“Do you want to sleep with me?” I asked, and wow, that felt so easy, effortless, and freeing. Why had I never tried asking that question before?
“What?” His eyes widened to saucers.
Maybe he didn’t hear me. “DO YOU WANT TO SLEEP WITHMEEE?” I repeated, and this time I was pretty sure the whole bar heard because everyone nearby was staring at me.
“God, you are wasted,” he muttered but there was a gleam in his eyes.
“Is that a no, then?” I was checking to be sure.
“I think I’ll call you a taxi and get you home,” he answered drawing nearer.
“Wrong answer. Your loss. I’m pretty certain I’d rock your world, but hey…”
I moved away from him, and he followed.
Thank God he did because I must have taken three steps forward before I stumbled so badly that if he hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen flat on my face.
“I’m perfectly fine.” I frowned, shrugging out of his hold. I attempted to walk again, but this time, it felt like walking in one of those dreams where you were doing your best to move forward but couldn’t move from the spot.
I wasn’t moving, so I tried for baby steps, and someone over in the corner started laughing. It was a woman with big Dolly Parton hair.
“Come on,” Mr. Gorgeous said, taking hold of my arm again.
This time, I allowed him to. He had to slip his arm around me to help me to walk. Then… it wasn’t until we got outside the bar and the cold night air hit me that I started feeling sick. Sick like I was going to vomit, and everything felt like shit again.
“Where do you live?” he asked, releasing me.
I narrowed my eyes and tried to think really hard. I pointed down the road. “Down there somewhere.”
He shook his head at me. “That could be anywhere. You don’t remember where you live?”
“That’s for me to worry about,” I scuffed.
“I just need an address so I can call you a taxi.” He raised his brows.
Maybe a taxi was a good idea since I’d parked my car somewhere and didn’t know where that was.
So should I give him my address? God, I didn’t want to make my situation worse.
I hesitated and looked him over. “Are you an ax murderer?” I asked, considering the idea.
His forehead creased and he tried to bite back a smile. “Nope, I can assure you I am not that.”
“Are you one of these strange people who hang around bars and wait for the right moment to kidnap drunk women like me?” I probed.
He chuckled. “No.”
“It’s not funny. If something happens to me, I’ll know it was you,” I fumed.
