Page 27 of Finally Moore

“Come on, Scar, let’s get you home,” I say, tugging her a little closer. Her body shivers against mine. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she lies. But the streetlamp reveals her trembling bottom lip.

“Here.” I take off my jacket and help her slide it on. “Better?”

She hums as she snuggles into the warmth. “It smells like you.”

Chuckling, I shake my head and continue to escort her down the cleared path to her front door. I thought she was drunk on Halloween—clearly she was holding back. She’s going to be wrecked tomorrow. We make it to the cabin and Scarlett leans on the doorframe as I reach into my jacket pockets, feeling around for the keys.

“You look really sexy with glasses.” She grins and I try to ignore her comments. She’s drunk, meaning I can’t take any of what she says seriously. “Like Clark Kent… Then, when you take them off, you become Superman. But instead of shooting laser beams out of your eyes, your super power is making the gooiest muffins ever.”

“Is that right?”Where are those damn keys?

“Yup,” she pops the P. “Super Scott… making delicious food and coffee by day, saving damsels in distress by night.”

“You’re far from being a damsel in distress,” I fire back. Our eyes lock and my hands pause in my pockets.

“It feels like for the past forty-eight hours all you’ve done is rescue me.”

I brush back a loose strand of her golden hair that fell from the small pile on the top of her head. “Scarlett, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I promise you the last thing you need is rescuing.”

“Scott,” she whispers my name, and my first thought is that her super power must be liquifying whatever brain cells I have left. Because, once again, all common sense is thrown out the window as I lean down, drawn in by her pouty bottom lip. She’s not in her right mind, and honestly, even though I haven’t had a drop of alcohol, I’m not sure if I am either. She meets me halfway and closes her eyes.

Never in my life have I wanted to do anything more than kiss this woman. But as much as I want to, I know I can’t. Not like this. Scarlett lets out a disappointed sigh as my mouth presses onto the top of her head.

“You’ll thank me in the morning.”

If she remembers, that is…

I find the keys and open the door. Scarlett stumbles inside without a word, a pair of shaky legs taking her straight to the bathroom, while I head to the couch where Bruce has staked claim to the middle cushion.

“Sorry, fluffy dude, that’s not going to work for me,” I say as I nudge him off.

“Meow,” he scolds as he jumps onto the coffee table.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m sure your owner feels the same way.”

I lie down as best I can. But no matter how I position myself, a limb hangs off an edge or my neck is crooked in the worst way possible. Closing my eyes doesn’t help either. Because I’m left to wonder if Scarlett is okay. She’s been in that bathroom for a bit now. I want to check in on her, but then again, I don’t want to intrude.

I glance at the clock on my phone, realizing how much time has passed without her making a sound. Maybe I should knock? She might have blacked out on the floor or worse…

I sit up just as the bathroom door swings open. Scarlett steps out, her face clean of makeup and her hair piled high on her head. The dress is gone and in its place is an oversized t-shirt.

“Sorry… bathroom’s free… if you need it,” she says awkwardly.

“Are you feeling okay? I’m not sure what you have on hand, but if you need a surefire hangover cure, I can run home and grab some herbal tea. I have a blend that does wonders for me.”

“No… thank you… I’m fine.” She walks to the kitchenette, grabs a cup from the shelf, and fills it with water. Then she reaches into a jar, plucks two round white tablets from inside, and drops them into the cup. They fizz as they dissolve. “A little Alka-Seltzer and a good night’s sleep, and I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

“Okay.” I can’t help but smile as she sips the concoction, scrunching her nose each time she has to force it down. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” she says before disappearing behind the curtain that serves as the door to her makeshift bedroom.

I should pass out. I slept like crap last night and it’s been one heck of a day. But all I can do is lie back and stare up at the ceiling. Despite the few hiccups, like Scarlett getting really drunk and her mother souring her mood, it was strangely the best date I’ve ever been on. Including that night with Amanda. Which is insane to admit, because they were both train wrecks in their own right. But going out with Scarlett was so… easy. Maybe it was because there was no pressure. This is all just pretend. Still, there’s just something about her…

“Scott,” Scarlett calls out from the other side of the curtain.

“Can I get you something?” I call back, already swinging my legs over the couch and onto the floor.

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