Page 30 of It Runs in the Family

“No one you want to know,” I said with a grimace, then took another sip.

“How long has she been seeing him?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You interested in my cousin? You checkin’ out the competition?”

A lazy grin spread across his face. “Hell, no, Spitfire. Why would I want hamburger when I can have a steak?”

Why did I suddenly feel flushed from him comparing me to a steak? Then again, that last shot seemed to be pushing me past tipsy and into full-on drunk.

Boone studied me for a moment, then asked, “So you have three cousins?”

I broke out into giggles and couldn’t stop.

He smirked. “What’s so funny?

“I have way more than three cousins.”

“How many do you have, because I know ten million is an exaggeration.”

I leaned toward him, resting my forearm on the table and said slowly, “Too many to count.”

He looked amused. “That many, huh?”

“And my grandma makes us all come for Sunday dinner.”

“And you go because you’re a good girl.”

“How did you know I always go?”

“You told me ages ago, when you gave me five minutes to make a good impression on you.”

“You didn’t succeed, by the way,” I said.

“While I’ll admit to failing in a lot of things, I think the jury’s still out on whether I’ve impressed you. Besides, you cheated. I didn’t get my full five minutes.”

I wasn’t about to admit that he had impressed me, because I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

“So, your grandmother, does she cook all the food herself?” he asked. “Feeding ten people every Sunday seems like a lot of work.”

“There’s way more of us than that. She used to cook it all, but over the last few years, we started bringing food too.”

“I would imagine it would be hard to feed one hundred people once a week all on your own.”

“There’s not that many of us,” I said, then realized a need I’d felt for a while had become pressing. I’d been drinking all night without peeing. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Do you need help going?”

“I’ve been peeing in a toilet since I was eighteen months old,” I said with a snort. “I think I have it covered.”

“I meant do you need help walking to the bathroom.”

“Why would I need help walking to the bathwomb?” I asked, realizing the words sounded slurred.

He grinned. “Because you’re drunk.”

“The hell I am,” I scoffed. Then, to prove I wasn’t, I slid off my stool. The room spun. I reached for the table to get my balance and missed, starting to fall.

Boone hopped up off his stool and caught me in his arms, wrapping one arm around my back and pulling me to his chest. “Whoa, there.”