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It was a slow evening, so he joined them. They were sharing the shot glass. Germs were the least of her worries right now. It wasn’t like many could survive a bath in tequila.
“I am so sorry,” she groaned. “He is hot as hell. My brain scatters anytime he touches me. I forget I am a grown-ass woman who can take care of herself. All I want to do is throw him down on the floor and ride him until I feel a lot better. I blame it on sexual drought. This wouldn’t be an issue if I were getting it on the regular. Why couldn’t you have wanted jelly for your toast?”
“Wait,” Jake interrupted. “You did tell him no to dinner, right?”
“No,” she winced. “I waited until he was out in the back field on the tractor and made a run for it.”
“You didn’t,” Max groaned. “My poor bar. I’m billing for the damages. If anything happens to that door,” he trailed off.
“It’s a great door,” Angelina agreed. “I have door envy. The first time I saw it, I wanted to stop and take a picture.”
“That is fabulous, sweetness,” Jake snapped his fingers in her face. “But honey, you need to focus.”
“I ruined everything,” she mumbled. “I’m an awful fake girlfriend. I’m so sorry I let you down. You need to find someone else to be their fairy godmen.” Angelina tried to hide her sniffle, but tears dripped past her guard.
“She is a lightweight.” Max snatched the bottle and the shot glass away from her.
“Perfect,” Jake drawled. “We can’t let her drive home.”
“No shit.”
“Option one, I take her to our place. She sleeps it off, we feed her breakfast, and she drives herself home in the morning,” Jake thought aloud.
“If this guy is as serious as he claims, that won’t work. What would happen if you were drunk and another guy took you home to sleep it off on his couch? How would that play out?”
“You would tear the town apart until you found me,” Jake answered without hesitation.
Max shrugged.
“I can sleep it off in my car,” Angelina waved them off.
“Sweetness, that is the tequila talking. You are not sleeping in your car in the bar parking lot,” Jake patted her hand as Max poured another shot. He wasn’t quick enough. Angelina snatched the glass before the bottle made it back to the table.
“I am a failure at relationships. I don’t have girlfriends. I don’t have boyfriends. I have an occasional hookup and never stay until morning. I have no girl tribe for girl power or whatever we are supposed to have. I can’t even keep a fake boyfriend. Now Army Ken thinks I’m his. Who lives like this?”
“You are a sexual sprinter,” Jake chuckled. “I would never have guessed.”
“What?”
“You get off and run,” Max explained.
“Yeah,” she nodded drunkenly. “That is an accurate statement, counselor.”
“Option two,” Max spoke up. “We take her home.”
“Safety in numbers,” Angelina pondered.
“Are you worried about that?” Jake asked.
“Nope,” she popped the p. “Never felt safer in my life. And I hit him with a stapler. He did that raised eyebrow scowl at me. My panties went up in flames. I wanted to fall to my knees, crawl across the floor, and disintegrate his pants with my laser vision. I can’t guarantee the safety of my fake boyfriend. Ben isn’t your biggest fan. Maybe he will have moved on when I get home. You think that’s a possibility?”
Jake took the bottle and the empty glass and slid them to the other end of the table.
“We take her home,” Max started again. “Explain everything to him. That will calm the beast. It rides a man hard to know the one he wants is in the arms of some other guy.”
“We can’t do that,” she cried. “What if he tells?”
“Sweetness, if you are worried about Max and me, we will be fine. This will be enough to shut my father up for a while. Maybe we will get lucky. The gossip will push the old man over the edge.”
