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“What the fuck, Rusty? You’re out to pick up a guy?”

“Um…” Suddenly she was confused as hell.

“Where are you?” he growled, not sounding amused anymore.

“Cracker Jacks, but…”

“Don’t fucking move and don’t talk to anyone till I get there. And no more drinks.” Then he hung up on her.

She stared down at her phone. “Oops.”

Piper slid another drink in front of her. A shot. Rusty picked it up and sniffed. Reid said no more drinks, but he wasn’t the boss of her. Shit, they hadn’t even been on a proper date yet. Plus, she got the feeling when he came through that door, she’d need the extra liquid courage.

“Tequila!” Piper cried and downed her drink. They turned to Alex. She downed hers as well…and when it sprayed from her nose, and she started coughing and sputtering, Rusty and Piper laughed their asses off.

Rusty lifted her drink. “Tequila!”

Reid walked into the crowded club and scanned the room. He had no idea what Rusty was playing at, but if it included drinking and picking up some random asshole, they had a serious problem. He’d been taking it slow, a first for him, trying to ease her into things. Get her to trust him. They’d talked for hours the last few nights. He’d assumed that’s what Rusty wanted. Obviously not. The only conversation he usually had with the women he slept with was asking if they wanted him to call a cab when they were done. But then Rusty wasn’t like any other woman he’d met. Shit, he’d been hard as iron every time they’d spoken, and he’d heard that husky voice down the line. But he’d told himself to hang back, give her time.

Surprisingly, he’d enjoyed just talking to her, learning more about her. Shit, he’d looked forward to it every night when he got home from work.

Obviously, that was the wrong play, because she was here now, drunk and looking for a guy because she was sick of waiting. Christ.

Then he spotted them across the club, the three women and who he now knew, through their phone calls, was her brother, Deacon. He pushed through the crowd and, after a chin lift to the brother, went to his woman—because that’s what she was until it ended between them, she was his and his alone. And right now, his woman was completely smashed and giggling her ass off.

Rusty spotted him immediately, spun in her seat, and beamed up at him like he was fucking Santa Claus. Instantly, all the pissed off, the fear he’d felt started to dissipate. “You’re here!”

“Told you I was coming, Foxy.” Her smile brightened. And fuck him, she was gorgeous even when she was shit-faced. “You ready to go home?”

“Yup.”

He looked over to Piper, who was talking animatedly into her phone. He got the feeling whoever was on the end of that drunk dial would have a treat to wake up to in the morning.

Deacon stood from his seat, wrapped his arm around Alex’s waist, who had a serious sway going on, and moved around the table toward him and Rusty.

Deacon held out his hand when he reached them. “Reid Parker, I take it?”

“Yeah.” Reid shook the guy’s hand. “Rusty’s told me a lot about you.”

Deacon held his gaze. “I understand you’ve been spending time with my sister?”

“She told you that?” He was about to get the third degree from Rusty’s big brother, and all he could think was that she’d told Deacon about him. For some reason that pleased him a hell of a lot.

“Is she wrong?”

“No.”

Alex chose that moment to bust out laughing at something Rusty said and reach for another drink. Deacon not so subtly drew her out of reach of the glass. She spun on him, scowling, and the guy laughed and kissed her.

When he turned back, he lost some of the attitude, or at least forgot about the grilling he’d planned for Reid, which would more than likely include uncomfortable questions about his intentions toward his little sister. Thank fuck for that.

The guy actually grinned. “Well, good luck with that. The three of them aren’t called the Axle Alley Vipers for nothing.”

Axle Alley Vipers?

“Rusty said you’re taking them home?” Deacon tilted his head to Rusty and Piper.

“Yeah.” Deacon looked unsure, conflicted over leaving his drunk sisters with a total stranger. “I’ll get them home safe.” That was the best he could do. He wasn’t used to dealing with concerned brothers or, shit, families for that matter.

The guy opened his mouth to say something more, but Alex grabbed Deacon’s arm and whispered urgently in his ear before slapping a hand over her mouth. The woman had turned green.

That was all it took. Deacon turned to him, eyes hard. “I’ll be checking they got home safe.” With that parting warning, he was on the move, leading Alex quickly from the club before she threw up on the dance floor.

The guy had a fun night ahead.

After some maneuvering, Reid rounded Rusty and Piper up and got them out to his car. Piper climbed in the back, curled up against the door, and fell instantly asleep. Rusty climbed in beside him, skirt hitched up around her hips, high enough he got a flash of bright yellow lace panties, and grinned over at him. “This car is bitchin’.”

“Bitchin’?” Jesus, she was also cute when she was drunk. And no one was cute when they were drunk. “Tell me if you feel sick, yeah? I’d rather you didn’t puke all over my bitchin’ car.”

She waved her hand in the air, dismissing his concern, and leaned forward to play with the stereo. She finally stopped on a rock station—then proceeded to sing her head off. The woman was beautiful, she had attitude, she was talented, had hidden depths—but she could not sing. Could not hold a single note. And he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face while he listened to her.

She massacred two more songs, then at the beginning of “Sweet Home Alabama,” her hand shot out, and she turned it off, then looked over at him. “Hey, why haven’t you asked me out?”

Surprisingly, he liked drunk Rusty. Drunk Rusty didn’t hold back a damned thing. “Me not asking you out? That have something to do with you and Piper deciding not to wait?” Whatever the hell that meant.

“No, that was about Cole.”

All humor fled, and he glanced over at her. “Cole?”

“Yup.”

“Who the fuck’s Cole?”

“Deacon’s friend.”

“And why does you getting shit-faced have something to do with this Cole?”

“It doesn’t.”

He was this close to banging his head against the steering wheel. “Rusty, who is Cole to you?”

“A friend…but Piper, she’s been mooning over the guy for years.”

Okay. He was finally getting somewhere. “So going out drinking, the ‘no more waiting,’ that was Piper’s idea?”

“Yeah. So why didn’t you ask me out?”

She was drunk, but apparently drinking didn’t affect her memory. “Was gonna do that tonight.”

“You were?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still going to?”

“When you sober up.”

“I’ve enjoyed our talks,” she said, shifting conversational gears, then gave him another one of those light-up-the-room smiles.

“Me, too, Foxy.”

“I like it when you call me foxy.”

Now he was back to smiling.

“Did you like talking to me?” she said, turning in her seat, curling her legs up underneath her.

“Of course.”

“Did you like talking to me…a lot?”

“Yeah, Rusty.”

“Like, a lot, a lot?”

“What are you getting at?”

She was blushing, he could see even in the dim light of the car, but she didn’t turn away, kept those beautiful eyes full of mischief and fire aimed at him. “The last time we talked, I thought…I thought that maybe you…” She bit her lip.