Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Gannon: I’m going to ask you one more time—why can’t you drive?
Me: I had three too many glasses of wine. Thanks for your concern.
I go back to Tate.
Me: No, I’m not staying here. There are fifty people in this house.
Tate: I don’t like you in a rideshare by yourself when you’re drunk.
Me: We’ve been over this. I’m not drunk-drunk … yet.
Tate: Can you share your location with me?
Gannon’s name appears at the top of the screen, so I switch back to him.
Gannon: Where are you?
Me: None of your business.
Gannon: I seem to remember you telling me today that my problems have a lot to do with you. I stand corrected. You were right.
Me: I wish I could think clearly enough to process that word salad.
The room grows smaller and hotter as Tate buzzes with a new message. I find my Settings, ensure I’m sharing my location with him, and then go back to his texts.
Tate: Dammit, Carys.
Me: There. I shared it. I can’t decide whether you’re annoying or sweet. I’ll decide tomorrow and let you know.
Tate: You do that.
Gannon chimes back in.
Gannon: Stay where you are.
Me: Or what?
Gannon: So help me God.
Me: That feels like a challenge.
Gannon: This isn’t the time for your games, Carys. Stay the fuck there.
Me: You and your brother are driving me crazy tonight.
I wait for a response, but it doesn’t come.
“Typical,” I say, pouring the rest of the bottle into my glass. “Now, do I stay here, or do I go home?”
I try to process what the annoying Brewer brothers said, but it’s hazy. And, ultimately, I don’t care. I can make my own decisions.
The door flies open behind me, and Taryn sticks her head in.
“Come on,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Dance with me.”
“Now that’s some energy I can get behind,” I say, swaying as I move toward her. “Let’s go!”
We cheer, our arms around one another, as we head back into the living room.
Chapter Thirteen
Gannon
“I’m here,” I say, pulling up to the curb in front of a small green house with white shutters. The place is lit up like the Fourth of July.
“Gan, I owe you one,” Tate says. “Thanks for doing this. I know rescuing women isn’t in your repertoire.”
You’d be surprised what’s in my repertoire lately.
I clear the GPS on my dash. “Want to give me her address in case she’s out of it?”
“Yeah. Good idea. Hang on, and let me find it.”
I roll down the passenger’s side window and take in the address Tate gave me to Courtney’s.
In what can only be described as a work of God, Carys revealed via text what I know she’d only normally tell Tate. And once I pieced together what was going on—and that there was no way in hell she was grabbing a rideshare with a stranger while inebriated—all it took was a quick call to innocently put myself in the middle of the situation.
And Tate will remain none the wiser.
“All right,” Tate says. “It’s 3086 Aviana Drive.”
I punch that into my system and watch as the maps calculate the fastest route. “Got it.”
“I know I’ve already said it, but thank you for picking her up. Small miracles, I guess.”
“That’s me. A miracle worker.”
Tate snorts. “Let me know how it goes.”
“See ya.”
“Bye.”
I take a deep breath and then call Carys’s phone. It rings all the way through before her voicemail picks up.
My jaw ticks as I press her name again. It rings five times before she answers.
“Hello?” she says, clearly confused. “Gannon?”
“You have two choices, Miss Johnson.”
“Is that so?”
“You can come outside and get in my car so I can drive you home. Or I can come inside and make a spectacle in front of all your friends. You choose.”
She hums. “How do you even know where I am?”
“Do you want to test me?”
“Maybe.”
I sigh. “Tate gave me the address. I put it in my GPS—the same GPS that currently shows me that it will take eight minutes to get to your house.”
“You asked Tate where I am?” she squeaks.
“No, I didn’t. He asked me to come get you. Funny how things work out sometimes. Now, get in this fucking car, or I’m coming in.”
“I thought we established earlier today that you would not, in fact, be coming in anything to do with me.”
My teeth grind so hard that I can hear them.
“Fine,” she says, huffing. “I’m coming.”
“I’m in front of the house.”
She disconnects the call, and I wait. People stream in and out, climbing into cars and some walking down the sidewalk. No one appears to be too intoxicated to drive, thank God. Carys appears on the porch just as my impatience begins to get to me.
Ho-ly fuck.
My eyes nearly fall out of my head as she steps onto the sidewalk.
Her dress hugs her curves, showcasing her full chest and narrow waist. Her legs are long as hell. Instead of her usual ponytail, her hair’s styled into loose curls that make me want to wrap my hands in it and pull.