Page 23 of Knot what I want for Christmas
“Definitely didn’t,” Clay mutters.
Annie focuses in on her big brother. “Take good care of her,” she says. “No funny business.”
“Funny business?” he repeats with disgust.
“She’s my friend.”
Clay takes a step forward and glares at the barman sitting beside Annie. “Yeah, and she’s my little sister,” he warns him.
Travis nods. “You know I’ll always treat her like a lady.”
“Ugh,” Annie says. “Please don’t. That’s the last thing I want.”
Clay looks like he might erupt, so it’s probably lucky that his pack mate Nash grips his arm and leads him out of the bar, Tucker taking my hand and leading me out too. Soon I’m tucked up in the back of their truck, a blanket wrapped around my lap. And even sooner, I think I’m drifting off asleep, because the next moment I’m being carried out of the truck and up to the house.
“Oh!” I squeal, finding myself tucked up against Tucker’s chest once again. “I can walk.”
“You looked so cozy. Didn’t want to wake you,” he tells me.
“Yeah, but it’s not a good look, being carried in, is it?” I tell him. “I don’t want Mr. and Mrs. Jackson to know how drunk I was. Please don’t tell them.”
He smiles, places me back on my feet, and pushes open the door. “Sure,” he says. “My lips are sealed. You think you can make it up to your room?”
“Absolutely,” I say. “I’m feeling so much better.” I hesitate. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Hollie Bright,” he tells me.
And I have a feeling that if I hadn’t nearly fallen on my ass, embarrassed myself dancing on the bar and vomited in the snow, he would have kissed me.
Chapter Eight
Hollie
I wake up with a splitting great headache and Annie crawling into my bed.
“Did you just get in?” I ask her, spying the morning light creeping in around the curtains.
“Yep,” she says, a great big grin on her face, cheeks a rosy red, and smelling like aftershave.
“Did you have fun?” I say as she snuggles up under the covers and we face each other on the bed.
“Lots of fun,” she says. “In fact – three lots of fun.”
“Three?” I say. “Geez, where’d you get the energy, Annie?”
She kicks me under the covers. “Says an Omega.”
“An Omega who hasn’t had any action for at least a year, remember?” I tell her. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. Did you go back to his place?”
“Sure,” she says. “We went back to his place, and we went to his truck, and we went...” She pauses, eyes twinkling with mischief, “to the back room of the bar.”
“You dirty little thing,” I say in pretend outrage, completely delighted for my friend. “Was it hot?”
“Yep, flaming hot,” she says, then grimaces. “But I realize I’m also a seriously bad best friend.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am,” she says, doing a little guilty pout. “I took you out dancing on your first night here, then totally ditched you for a guy. That’s not what best friends do. I promise to be on my best behavior from now on.”
