That wasn’t disappointment he felt.
Nope.
Just relief.
Keys in hand once more, he turned to go, waiting as a gaggle of kids who barely looked old enough to drive, much less drink, shuffled inside. While he stood there, a peal of high-pitched laughter rose above the jukebox and he glanced over his shoulder toward the source just in time to see a couple of the good ol’ boys helping the dancing ladies up onto the bar top.
Last time Archer remembered anyone dancing on a bar top, he’d been in college. Smiling ruefully because he suddenly felt like he’d gotten old, he reached for the door before it swung closed after the kids entered. Another edgy laugh rose above the general din and he glanced over at the dancers again.
And stood stock-still.
The loud voices and the louder music dimmed.
The swinging door knocked into his shoulder.
“Dude, mind if we—” The kid wanting to get past him broke off, his Adam’s apple bobbing when Archer’s attention slid from the woman dancing on the bar to him. “Sorry,” he muttered and turned the other direction.
Archer didn’t pay him any mind and entered the fray, pushing his way through the people crowded inside the pub, aiming for the bar. Maybe it was the fact that he stood several inches above six feet. Maybe it was the frown he could feel on his face. Whatever it was, people moved aside and he reached the bar in a matter of seconds.
He reached up and grabbed Nell’s wrist. “What the hell are you doing?” His voice was swallowed by the hoots and hollers that were rising in scale by the second, thanks to the gyrations of the women on the bar. One of them had even yanked off her T-shirt and was dancing in just her bra and a short denim skirt.
Fortunately, Nell wasn’t that far gone. Yeah, the shapeless jacket of her suit was nowhere to be seen, but at least her silky sleeveless blouse was still where it belonged.
Was it any wonder he hadn’t noticed her at first?
No jacket. No shoes. Her hair let out of that godforsaken knot she always sported and springing down beyond her shoulders.
She shook off his hand with an annoyed glare. “Go away!” She twirled again and the hem of her plain skirt slapped him in the face.
“Thatagirl,” someone hooted when the second woman tore off her shirt and swung it around her head.
Archer caught Cheri’s eye. “It’s just a matter of time before the cops come,” he said loudly, leaning toward her so she could hear.
The bartender shrugged helplessly. “Won’t be the first time,” she shouted back.
Archer grimaced. He tried to catch Nell’s hand again, but she wasn’t having any of that. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark eyes wild.
He leaned toward Cheri again. “How much has she had?”
“I didn’t think it was enough for that.” She turned away to stick another glass under the taps.
Archer followed Nell as she danced her way along the bar. “Where’s Ros?”
He knew that Nell heard him because her eyes skated over his before she spun away again.
Only this time her bare foot slipped on a wet spot and she started to fall.
His heart shot up into his throat and he barely caught her before she toppled over the edge. He grunted when her elbow caught him on the nose and he muttered an apology to the stunned woman he nearly unseated when he caught Nell.
Nell, who wasn’t showing the least bit of gratitude that he’d prevented her from tumbling head over heels right onto the floor of The Wet Bar with what seemed like half the town’s population looking on.
“Leggoame,” she slurred, pushing ineffectually at his hands.
“You’re drunk.” He set her on her feet but grabbed her arms when her knees failed to do their job and she swayed wildly.
“Amnot.” Her head lolled against his arm when he slid it behind her back. She looked up at him, but her eyes—dark as chocolate drops—were unfocused. Her dark hair was a riot of curls clinging to her cheeks and the long column of her neck. “Jushavinfun.” Her eyes rolled slightly but she jerked herself upright. “Issmybirthday,” she announced as if it were news.
“Where’s Ros?” he asked again.
Nell’s forehead wrinkled. Her lips pinched together. Those chocolate-drop eyes suddenly gleamed wetly. “Snothere.”
“I can see that.” He renewed his grip around her shoulders and looked toward Cheri again. “Jacket? Purse?”
The bartender jerked her chin. “Behind here. Just give me a sec.”
“Why isn’t she here? You two never miss celebrating each other’s birthdays.”
“Haddafight.”
Surprise jerked at him. He knew he had plenty of fights with his stepsister—they hadn’t been able to agree on the time of day from the moment his father had married her mother.
Nell was sniffing hard as if she was trying not to cry.
“About what?”
Her lips moved and he almost thought she was going to tell him. But the days of her confiding in him were long gone, and instead, annoyance suddenly crossed her face again. She pushed against him. “Lemmego. I can stand.”
It was easy to evade her puny efforts. “Sure you can. I’ll let you go as soon as I pour you into a cab to go home.”
The tears came back and she looked even more miserable. Which was saying something.
“Toldyou. Haddafight. Can’t.” She shook her head.
As far as Archer could tell, that just made her sway even more dizzily. He caught her around the waist, trying not to remember the last time he’d held her so closely. That had also been a long time ago. Too long ago to still be so vivid in his mind. She was thinner now. Not a lot, because she’d always been slender. But—
“Here’s her stuff.” Cheri interrupted his thoughts, pushing a bundle of dull gray fabric and an oversize purse into his other arm. “No idea about her shoes.”
“Thasmapurse,” Nell observed.
Cheri gave Archer a dry look. “Better get moving,” she warned, cocking her head to one side.
