Page 39 of Butter My Biscuit

“Six months usually. But your guess is as good as mine.”

Now, I’m laughing, but my palms are sweating. “So, it’s a ticking time bomb. Got it. I’ll, uh … keep a lookout for that. I’ll give it six months.”

“Forgot to tell you. There ain’t no antidote either, so good luck, princess.” He shoots me a wink. “You’re sofucked, but just remember, you begged for it.”

“I didnotbeg.”

He chews on his bottom lip. “That’s how I remember it. The night Grace came up with an elaborate way of getting me to kiss heragain.”

“I did not! I called you chicken, and then you devoured my mouth like you liked it. But it doesn’t matter because I’m gonna be just fine, trust me. Totally immune,” I explain, noticing the goose bumps forming and prickling all over my skin.

“I liked it.” He shrugs. “No shame from me.”

“Shut up,” I say. “And don’t use yourfemale gazestuff on me.”

He bursts into laughter as the ferry glides across the water, and I allow the breeze to cool me off. When land finally comes into view, we’re instructed to go back to our vehicles. My lips are numb, and I’m trying my best to keep the conversation going and not give a hint of it being awkward. Harrison opens my door for me, and when I look up into his eyes, I feel sick.

“I think I’m gonna …”

He quickly leads me over to the edge of the boat, where I puke up my guts. I lean against the railing, keeping my eyes closed because the last thing I want to do is see it. The smell is enough, and I know everyone is looking at the stupid drunk girl.

“Gracie, you okay?” Harrison places his hand on my back. He sounds worried.

I feel clammy and break into a cold sweat.

“Take your time. Breathe,” he tells me. “I think you drank too much.”

“And the rocking of the boat isn’t helping.” I’m so embarrassed that I keep my eyes on the ground as he walks me to the truck. Once I’m inside, I remove his coat and lean my head against the cold window.

“Need some napkins?” He opens the glove box and hands me a stack.

I wipe my mouth, wishing I had something to remove that taste on my tongue. “Thank you. I’m sorry for being a hot-ass mess.”

“Don’t apologize. You were just having a good time. I’m proud of you. Can’t remember the last time you got sloppy drunk.”

On the way back to the house, I fall asleep and only wake up when we’re pulling into the driveway. I think I drank more than I realized.

Harrison opens the door to the truck and helps me unbuckle. I place both feet on the ground and feel the world slightly tilt on its axis.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “If I need to carry you, I will.”

I stop walking and give him a look. “Youcannotcarry me.”

With one swoop, he slides his arms behind my legs and lifts me. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

“Oh my God. You’re such a caveman. And fucking strong. You can’t just pick me up like that.”

“But I did. When you gonna stop underestimating me, princess?” he mutters.

“I guess starting now,” I whisper.

He chuckles. “Good.”

The sidewalk seems like it’s stretching on for miles, and time feels like it slows down. I can smell the faint hint of his cologne on his shirt and feel his hot breath against my skin as he holds me so effortlessly.

“Gonna set you down so we can unlock the door. Ready?”

I nod, and he gently places me on my feet.

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