My friends and I didn’t drink a lot normally, not at our age, but when we did, we tended to get a tiny bit rambunctious. It was as true now as it had been when we were younger. I remembered all the trouble we’d gotten into when we went to the Florida Keys to celebrate my fiftieth birthday. I needed a new liver after that trip. Although the good thing was that my fuddy-duddy sister Teresa had met her husband on that vacation thanks to us. Like Emma, she’d somehow landed herself a billionaire, and a nice one at that.
“When Reyes got there as back-up, you were yelling at Johnston and calling him ‘Doogie Copper’.”
I giggled at that one, and Jake gave me a stern look that made my pussy spasm.
“Reyes apparently knows one of your friends, the one who’s a nurse...”
“Emma.”
“Yeah, so he called Emma’s boyfriend and Johnston called me. Wyatt and I got there at the same time. He and I are good friends.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he was friends with Wyatt.
“I knew he was dating someone, but I didn’t realize it was a friend of yours. Anyway, Wyatt volunteered to take Emma and Dawn home with him, and I said I’d take you with me and keep an eye on you.”
“Gee thanks,” I said drily.
“Then I drove you here, you projectile vomited into my bushes, and I put you to bed.”
I had a memory of myself hurling into the bushes while Jake held my hair back. Well that explained the horrible taste in my mouth this morning. I’m glad Jake had left me a toothbrush.
“Oh Lord, it’s all coming back to me now. Thank you for taking care of me. And I apologize about your bushes,” I said grudgingly.
Jake shrugged.
“Nothing I couldn’t rinse off with a hose. But there’s something else.”
I looked up nervously. “What?”
The smirk was back.
“You told me that you really like me.”
“I did not.”
He nodded. “You did. In fact, your exact words were, ‘Don’t tell Jake, but I like him. I really like him. He’s hot as fuck.’ And then you passed out.”
I lowered my head into my hands, squeezing against my skull as if that would help everything be better. It didn’t work.
“Can you take me home now please?” I asked in a small voice.
“How about we go out to breakfast?” he countered. “You need greasy breakfast food to help with your hangover.”
It was a testament to how shitty I felt that I didn’t argue.