Page 67 of Sparks Fly

My head throbbed from the champagne. I slid into the driver’s seat, kicked off my heels, and leaned back with a groan. There was no way I was driving home.

The first thing I did was text Sawyer.

Me: I’m exhausted.

Me: And I drank too much. I should probably call an Uber.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Sawyer: I’ll come get you.

Me: Really?

Sawyer: Send me the address. I’ll be right there.

Me: My helmet is at my condo.

Me: And I’m thirty minutes away from you.

Sawyer: I have another one.

Sawyer: Unless you’d rather take an Uber?

I smiled down at my phone.

Me: No. I want you.

Sawyer: Stay in the car and send me your location. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Sawyer pulled in thirty-five minutes later.

“Hey,” she said as I climbed out and locked my car for the night.

“Hi.” I kissed her softly. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course.” Her eyes moved over me. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. I’m exhausted.”

“I can tell.” She handed me the spare helmet. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“Will you stay?” I asked. “Tonight?”

Her expression softened.

“I have more wedding stuff with the girls tomorrow. Favors or centerpieces or whatever.” I sighed. “But will you stay tonight?”

“Of course I will.”

I climbed onto the back of the bike and wrapped my arms around her.

“I’ll order us dinner and rub your feet,” she added.

I rested my helmet against her back. “God, you’re perfect.”

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