Page 65 of The Trouble with Runaway Brides

“I guess you didn’t have to worry about them,” I say.

“They’re resourceful fellas.” She stands, and I grab her hand when she stumbles a bit. “Thanks.”

“I’m horny now. Take me home. Is Van off yet?” Brinley says.

She heads up the hill, and I throw the bottle in the trash on the way to catch up to her. We arrive at my truck that’s parked in front of Brinley and Van’s apartment because the street parking was so crowded I couldn’t get a spot near Lucky’s when we arrived.

“Can I crash at your place?” Easton asks Brinley.

“I figured I’d drop you at home,” I say.

“Of course. Mi casa es su casa.” She puts her arm around him.

I pull out my phone to message Van, but he’s already coming down the stairs from their apartment. He probably had no trouble hearing them up there.

“Have fun, babe?” he asks.

“So much. I love you and I’m horny… Daddy.” She laughs so hard she burps, then she slaps her hand over her mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Van rushes her over to the trash can, where she throws up.

“Buzzkill,” Easton says with a laugh.

“I bet you’re two minutes after her,” I say. “I can drop you at home.”

“Nah, I want Lard Have Mercy’s greasy hash browns for breakfast.”

I look at him, confused. “We can still do that in the morning.”

“I could go all the way home, but why bother when it’s right there?” He points down the street. “Plus.” He nods toward Kenzie, who looks like she’s falling asleep beside the truck.

I rush over and catch her before she leans so much she falls over. Easton opens my passenger door and I place her inside before buckling her seat belt.

“Let’s go, Brin,” Van says, ready to carry her, but she runs over to the window of my truck and knocks on the glass. She puts her thumb up and shouts, “Make sure you use protection, you two.”

“Jesus,” I say under my breath, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Van somehow gets Brinley away from the truck and over to their apartment door, then all three of them disappear inside. Good luck to Van.

“Where are your parents renting?” I ask.

She turns her head toward me. “Can you just take me to your place?”

My stomach lurches. I’d love nothing more, but that’s not what this is. “Kenzie, that’s not a good idea.”

Her hand covers mine on the center console. “It is. Please.”

My gut tells me not to do this, but she’s giving me that same look that would make me a simp back in high school. The one I always found it almost impossible to say no to.

I drive toward my house, reminding myself that I’m an adult and there’s no way I’m going to take advantage of a drunk woman. Still, the last thing I need is to give myself any ideas—like there could be a future for Kenzie and me.

Twenty-One

Kenzie

I roll over and my bed is so soft and warm that I don’t want to get out. The floor will be cold on my feet and this feels so nice. My arms stretch under the puffy pillows.

Wait.

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