Glancing at the bottle of Boone’s Farm in my hands, I place it on the ground. I think I’ve had enough. My mind and my body are starting to play tricks on me. I’m starting to think that Rip might actually be interested. At least for tonight. I could never have just one night with him, so it’s time for me to slow my roll where the alcohol consumption is concerned. Although, that kiss was toe curling, and now he’s holding me. We might have hugged, and not shied away from touching one another growing up, but this is altogether different. He’s never given me any indication that he wants more, but tonight, well, tonight feels like more. I’m terrified to think of this anything other than just being caught up in the moment, and a little bit of alcohol. I’m afraid to let myself want more where he’s concerned.
“I’ve missed you,” Laramie tells me. “I’m so glad you were here for tonight, and you’re going to be here for the wedding.”
“When is the wedding?” I ask, trying to ignore the way Rip’s hand slides up the back of my tank top. The feel of the rough pad of his thumb on my skin is driving me insane. “Well, I’m here for whatever you need,” I tell her before she can respond. Corbin staggers back to the fire, plopping down on the cooler, drawing my attention away for a moment.
“Well, we’re going to have to set a date. Soon.” She turns to smile at her fiancé. “Right, Colbs?”
“Anything you want,” he says, kissing her temple. I know he means exactly that. He will make damn sure that their wedding is everything Laramie ever dreamed of. He waited for me to be home to propose. Colby and Laramie are solid, and he would do anything for her, and she him. I have no doubt that the two of them are going to have a very long, happy marriage. My heart warms. I’m so happy for the two of them.
“So, wedding planning?”
Like I knew she would, Laramie dives into the conversation about her upcoming nuptials. I listen, fighting the urge to drink my bottle of wine, all while sitting on Rip’s lap with one of his arms locked tight around me, while the other drives me crazy as he caresses my skin. I really could use a drink, but I know better. I need to sober up a little.
“I’m done,” Corbin says, staggering to his feet.
“I should get home too,” I say, trying to stand, and yet again, Rip keeps me from doing so. “I’ve got you,” he says, his voice low and husky. “Colbs, you got Lara?” he asks.
“Yeah, we’re headed to your place.”
I feel Rip nod. “Corbin, get in the truck. I’ll drive.”
Corbin waves him off and staggers to Rip’s truck. I watch as he stops and struggles to pull open the back door. He finally, after several tries, is able to pull it open and climb inside.
“You coming with us?” Laramie asks me.
“Nah, I’ll just walk home from here.”
“She’s coming with us,” Rip says.
Part of me wants to argue with him. Part of me wants to tell him I can make my own decisions. The other part, well, it’s not ready to leave him or his warm embrace just yet. Sure, I’ve been drinking, but I’d like to think I’m sober enough to make an informed decision. I know what I’m doing. Well, I know the choice that I’m making. I know that I busted my ass in college on the other side of the country from my family and friends, and I’ve missed them. I know that tonight is my last free night before I hibernate studying for the bar exam, and I want to soak up every moment. I also know that here tonight, I’m living out a childhood dream. I’ve always crushed on Rip, and to have his hands and lips on me, well, if he’s not ready to let that go, then neither am I.
We can deal with the consequences later.
“Ready?” Rip asks. His hand taps my thigh, and this time he lets me stand. My legs are weak, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the man who has his hand pressed firmly on the small of my back, leading me to his truck. He opens the driver’s door, and before I know what’s happening, his hands are on my hips, and he’s lifting me into his truck. “I’m going to make sure the fire is out. I’ll be right back.” I’m surprised when he leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“He’s whipped.” Corbin laughs from his seat in the back as I slide over to the passenger side of the truck.
I ignore his drunk statement. “You doing okay back there, bud?” I ask instead.