The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (mind reading books .txt) 📗

felt silly for drinking too much. I was tipsy. You’re hammered.” While he stumbled along in front, she leaned around him to open his front door.

“Hey, I haven’t been drunk since…” he closed his eyes, trying to remember. The ground rose to meet him as he crashed onto the doormat, his palms stinging as the rough fibers dug into his skin.

“I see that. You’re a bit heavy, so I’m not going to even try to catch you if you fall again.”

Moving his hands in for a push-up, he found his body completely uncooperative and couldn’t manage the simple exercise he’d done a few dozen of this morning. “You may be right. I’m slashed,” he slurred.

She laughed, “Slashed?”

Gritting his teeth, he forced a few quick push-ups, bounced up from the ground, then steadied himself against the doorjamb before his nose touched the doormat again. Calculating, he nodded, “Yeah. Somewhere between smashed and sloshed and… trashed.”

Gripping her hands on his hips, she pushed him gently forward like the sexiest damn train he’d ever been a part of. Fuck, he zinged at the sensation. Couldn’t get it up right now if he tried, but might be worth the effort. “In you go,” she urged. “To bed.”

He grinned. “You going to tuck me in?”

Driving him toward the bedroom, she chuckled as they reached the threshold. She steadied him when his head started swimming again, “Maybe you should drink some water first,” she winced.

“Good idea.” Without waiting, he crashed face down on the bed. A few moments later, a water glass appeared in front of his face. Dopey grin tugging at his cheeks, he dragged his ass up and sat on the side of the bed. “Thanks,” he said breathlessly after gulping down the entire contents of the glass.

“Alright. Sleep it off sailor. I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”

Chortling, he reached for her hand. “You’d better sleep here to make sure I’m safe all night.”

“Charming,” she backed away and took the empty glass from him, refilled it, and left it on the nightstand. “I’m not taking advantage of an intoxicated man.”

“Come on, a few more minutes the other night and I would have taken advantage of you,” he slurred.

“But you didn’t. Nor will I. And I was warm and fuzzy, you’re going to be lucky if you remember any of this tomorrow.”

“How was your date with Dr. Practical? Was he as good of a kisser as me?”

“What was that you were saying about always putting your foot in your mouth? It might be a good time to extricate that foot and go to bed.”

His stomach rolled as he let his imagination run wild; maybe that goodnight kiss had been the G-rated version compared to what they might have been up to earlier. “Didn’t feel like making a night of it?”

“No.”

“Did he agree to go with you to the wedding?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

His eyes fought to shutter closed, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from chewing on his own bullshit. “You’re pretty. He’s an idiot.”

She stared, hesitating in his bedroom doorway with her arms crossed.

Fuck no, not sympathy. He really couldn’t take it from her. Furious Freya was so much safer. “I’ve got nothing, Freya. No future. No dreams. And I sure as hell don’t know what to do with a woman as interesting as you. You’d be bored with me in a day.”

“Goodnight, Zane,” she whispered, closing his bedroom door, her heels clicking across the wood floors.

Closing his eyes, he crashed and slept hard.

Tapping her foot on the floor, Freya debated. He was so trashed. Heading outside, she crossed over to the main house and eased in the front door, collapsing against it as it clicked closed.

“You okay?” Asher was dressed in nothing but jeans, filling two glasses of water in the kitchen.

“Yeah.”

“Have fun on your date?”

“I did. It was nice to see Seth.”

“What’s bugging you?” he set the glasses down, rested his palms on the island and waited.

Exhaling every last molecule of air before speaking, she shrugged. “Zane’s drunk.”

“Drunk? Stoic Zane?” His brow scrunched together.

She nodded. “You should go check on him.”

He stood tall, looking toward the bedroom, then to Zane.

Her face fell, “You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“I’ll go get changed and crash on his couch.”

“No, I should go. That’s the whole reason I dragged him up here. Guy hasn’t let himself feel a damn thing since that op.”

“What happened?”

“It was right before I got out. Zane and I crossed the street to check out a stupid hunch. Jack and the other guys waited behind. Their building got hit. A lot of them didn’t make it. Jack did, but he didn’t walk again, then, well, you know, he passed a few weeks ago. Zane and I… not more than a scratch between us.” Asher’s teeth gritted together, a darkness heavy over his expression.

“And Zane just got out, right?”

“Wasn’t even out two days when he got the call about Jack.”

Freya stepped close and hugged her cousin. Even overseas, she’d tracked his whereabouts, not sleeping while she knew he was deployed, celebrating every return. As had his sister and his parents and aunts and uncles. Zane didn’t have any of that. “You go crawl back in bed with Sophie. I’ll get changed and crash on Zane’s couch. Sort of my fault that he’s drunk anyway.” She backed away to head toward her bedroom to change.

Feet locking in place, Asher asked, “Your fault?”

“Yeah. I, well, I sort of kissed him. And he kissed me. A lot. And then we keep agreeing on how that’s a dumb idea.”

“What? When?”

“Um, pretty much every time we’ve said so much as, ‘hello’ to each other.” She felt her cheeks go red as she