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Before I know what’s happening, he’s got me by my waist, throwing me over his hulking shoulder like the caveman he is. “Butch,” I squeak in shock, reaching back and attempting to pull my dress over my ass. “Butch. Put me down.”
He doesn’t. Stalking off to the far end of the parking lot and over to his truck with me hauled over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I grit, my cheeks heating. “My ass is out.”
To add insult to injury, he laughs. “Guess you should’ve thought of that before you put this dress on.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah, because when I picked this outfit, my first thought was; I hope some jerk throws me over his shoulder and carries me across the parking lot so my whole ass is out. Showing every Tom, Dick, and Harry the goods.”
We reach his truck a second later and he hits the unlock button. He opens the passenger side door and sets me gently on the front seat. I quickly yank my dress down, already knowing he’s seen my black seamless thong.
“You’re not taking me home,” I say in complete drunken defiance. “I’ll wait right here for my ride.”
His nostrils flare, scowling that signature scowl directed solely at me. “Sure, Cassidy. Whatever you say.” He closes the door and loops around to the driver’s side. When he gets in, he looks over at me with a raised brow. “So, how long are we waiting for your ride to get here? Since I’m sure you confirmed it by now.”
Embarrassment wages a war in my mind with stubborn defiance. I suck in a lungful of air at the same time I cover my face to hide a wracking sob.
Stupid Uber. Stupid bar. Stupid two-for-one margaritas.
Butch sighs and starts his truck. “You live in Whitetail Park, right?”
Giving in, I nod weakly. “Yeah.”
He pulls out of the parking lot and down the street to take me home. It’s a quick seven-minute ride in silence to the park. I tellButch which few turns to take to get to my trailer before he’s stopping right out front and throwing the truck in park.
“Do you need me to walk you up?”
“I’m not a liar,” I blurt out.
Wow, I really can’t help myself tonight, can I?
Butch watches me for a long moment. “I know you’re not.”
I roughly wipe the rogue tear that escapes me, reaching for the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“I’m sorry about the cup,” he starts, and I turn to him. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick about it that morning. I had just gotten a call my grandmother died the night before, it wasn’t anything personal against you, just bad timing.”
I suck in a breath. Six months of regret hit me instantly. “I’m sorry. I…didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well, either way, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
I nod slowly, not knowing what to say besides feeling like a completebitchfor holding a grudge over a silly cup the last six months when he’d just found out his grandma died the night before.
I’m the worst.
I push the door open fully and slide out with my heels and phone in hand.
“Do me a favor and flick your porch light a few times when you get in to let me know you’re good,” he tells me, running a hand down his face.
I hold the door open, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and…something else churning low in my belly. Tequila, maybe?
Not having the words, I simply nod and close the door. Making my slow, slightly swaying way up the porch steps, I push inside. Closing and locking the door behind me, I reach over and flick my porch light a few times like he asked. A moment later, I hear the rumble of Butch’s truck pulling away.
I drop my shoes by the door and spin to gape at the couch where Frankie hasn’t moved a single chubby muscle.
“Frankie, you won’tbelievethe night I just had.”
On the edge of their seats, Alison, Janice, and Peggy stare at me with wide eyes, listening to my fuzzy rendition of Saturday night. Janice isn’t even scheduled this morning, but she overheard about the drama and made a point to be here to hear it firsthand.
