“Oh, no,” she said, steering him away from the gleaming crotch rocket. “I can’t even believe you drove that here and let yourself get so drunk. You’re not getting anywhere near that thing.”
“I can’t just leave it here.” James gripped both her shoulders and regarded her with wide eyes. “It’s a Ducati. Imported from Italy. It came on a boat.” He made a little waving motion with his hands and giggled. “It costs more than…well…prolly costs more than half the cars parked in the lot.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Ellie guided James toward her car—one she was certain was cheaper than the motorcycle. “But if you didn’t want to leave it here, you shouldn’t have brought it. I’m sure it’ll be waiting for you in the morning.”
She poured James into her front seat and his head lolled onto the headrest. He moaned as he picked his feet up and put them inside so she could close the door.
Great, she thought. With my luck, he’ll puke all over the inside of my car before I get him home.
It would cost more to get the interior cleaned than the car was worth.
“Ellie?” James asked as she lowered herself into the driver’s seat.
“Hmmm?” She turned the key in the ignition and maneuvered them onto the street.
“Thanks.” Except it didn’t sound like thanks at all, the word was so mangled by tequila.
“It’s okay, James.” She smiled and turned on the radio.
He swallowed hard and groaned as his eyes slid closed. Ellie rolled down the window and hoped the fresh ocean air would help keep him from throwing up in his lap.
Chapter Three
Ellie
It was a feat of patience, keeping James conscious enough to give her usable directions to his house. There’d been a second where she thought she’d just bring him to her apartment—she lived close enough to the bar that it wouldn’t be a big trek to take him back for his bike in the morning—but she didn’t want any rumors started.
And in a town like Bliss, the rumors would fly. They were probably already flying, what with her helping him out of the bar. But if she took him to her apartment?
All she needed was one person seeing him leave in the morning and BOOM! Suddenly, she’d be the reason his engagement failed, and the entire town would hate her. The Moores were local royalty and James’ wedding had been the talk of the town—until it was replaced with the scandal of his fiancée, Erin, being spotted out with another man. Ellie’s café didn’t need that kind of publicity.
“Frick me,” she muttered as she pulled into James’ driveway.
“You betcher ass I will.” James lifted his head off the headrest and his eyes tried valiantly to swim into focus.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She pulled to a stop and put the car in park. “I’m just surprised by the size of your house. That’s all.”
“Erin picked it out,” he murmured as he fiddled with his seatbelt. When Ellie reached over to help him, he slapped her hand away. “I can do it myself, thank you very much.”
Great, so he’s moved past the horny phase of drunkenness to the I-can’t-do-anything-but-refuse-help phase.
“Of course you can.” Ellie climbed out of the car and waited for James to finish wrestling with his seatbelt.
The house was gorgeous. A sprawling, modern mansion with a manicured lawn and landscaping that looked equal parts expensive and impossible to maintain. It sat on a private beach and had more windows than walls. The view from inside had to be amazing.
James finally emerged from the car and stumbled as he slammed the door. “Ian sold me the place for almost nothing. Barely put a dent in the ole’ trust fund.”
“Must be nice, having a big brother with real estate and a daddy willing to let you live off his money.” Ellie offered James her arm and started leading him toward the front door.
“Not gonna lie.” He stumbled into her as he tried to make eye contact. “My life’s pretty easy. Til it’s not anymore. Then it just sucks. And it really sucks when shit sucks.”
Ellie rolled her eyes at his lack of eloquence, but conceded his point. “Ain’t that the truth.”
James fiddled with his keys, faltering back a step as he struggled to pick the right one from the ring. He muttered a string of curse words until he finally located the one he needed, only to drop them onto the porch. “Mother fucker,” he growled then blinked slowly and swallowed hard. “Scuse me. My French. My fuckin’ mouth gets away from me.”
Ellie tried not to chuckle. “It’s okay James, I’ve heard bad words before. Even say them myself sometimes.”
She bent and picked up his keys, flicked through them until she found the house key, and unlocked the front door.
“Come in,” James slurred, grabbing her arm and pulling her inside.
If the outside of the house looked like a page out of Architects Weekly, the inside looked like a frat house. There was stuff everywhere. Trash on the floor. Big, empty spaces where furniture had once been but wasn’t anymore. She could smell the dirty dishes in the sink from wherever the kitchen was inside the monstrosity of a house. And dear God, the empty beer and liquor bottles. They were everywhere.
“Place is a mess,” James said, waving around. “It’s a bachelor pad, now.”
“It’s pretty disgusting in here.”
His face crinkled in confusion.
Shit. She really needed to set up a filter between her head and her mouth.
James wandered deeper into the house and Ellie considered leaving. She’d done her duty, right? The guy was home safe. He could just pass out and wake up in the morning with a rip-roaring hangover and everything would be okay.
Except his bike was still at the bar and the chances of him remembering how he made it home
