Drunk on You Read online

  “Okay.” He found himself reluctant to leave her side. He wasn’t sure he knew how to behave in a real social situation. The anniversary party hadn’t worked out so well. He’d gotten drunk, molested his best friend’s little sister, and ended up on crutches. Of course, here he was, fantasizing about putting that same little sister in jeopardy again. Not that he was behaving any more gentlemanly on the living room couch, in the rickhouse— “Yeah, I should go.” Far away, where she wouldn’t have to be around him and his negative energy.

  “Go on, I’ll catch up with you in a minute. Just be careful of that shoulder. We don’t have time to get it replaced before we leave for Georgia.” She grinned and shooed him off, then walked away, leaving him alone in the big gymnasium without an anchor. It had been so long since he’d seen his high school friends, football teammates, he didn’t know what he’d say to anyone but Allie.

  She approached the row of tables against the wall, smiling and chatting at a very tanned brunette with, he figured, very fake breasts. Allie’s natural, medium-sized curves and creamy skin were about a million times more attractive.

  He could remind himself as often as he wanted that she was off-limits, but the way she looked at him…touched him…kissed him… What would she do if he were to grab her by the hand and drag her out of a side door? Push her back against the wall behind the gym and reach—

  She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

  “Hey, buddy, are you going to stand here and ogle your date all night, or are you going to come share some Blue Mountain goodness with your homeys?”

  Saved by his former center, Kyle Cooper.

  Shaking off the fantasy, he said, “No bourbon tonight. I’ve got something even better.” He held up the bag containing a few jars of Rainbow Dog and the ice was broken enough for him to slip through.

  …

  “I can’t believe you finally got Justin Morgan to go on a date with you.” Bailey Walsh scratched through the eleventeen layers of product on her hair with a deadly fingernail. What was that, Kevlar?

  “It’s not really a date,” Allie felt obligated to explain. “He’s hurt, and the rest of the families are off on a cruise, so I’m helping him this week. And we’re working on a new product project together. We’re just friends.”

  Bailey waited for her to finish her litany and then said, “Well, the way he was staring at your booty just now, you’d better reconsider trading up to ‘friends with benefits.’”

  Allie whipped her head around just in time to see Justin limp across the room with a giant bald man, who had taken possession of him and was poking through Justin’s bag of Rainbow Dog samples.

  Bailey laughed. “Give it up. You haven’t gotten over him. I’m impressed you brought him here, knowing half of our classmates are going to tease you about how you thought he was so in love with you before he ditched you for Merilee.”

  Allie stared.

  “You didn’t think we knew?”

  “I’d hoped.” She’d really thought since no one but Merilee and Eve had witnessed her humiliation, that no one else knew about it.

  “Well, when you bragged about him coming home to see you, and then we saw Merilee groping him all over Crockett County for two weeks…and you were MIA until we all went off to college…yeah. It was pretty obvious.”

  The old hurt came back full force. Not just that Justin hadn’t really been in love with her, like she’d convinced herself, but that everyone knew what an idiot she’d been.

  No wonder her own family wouldn’t give her any responsibility at the distillery. They could probably see some sort of glaring defect of judgment she wasn’t aware of yet. Her Rainbow Dog project was doomed to fail.

  From across the room, Justin turned to look at her. His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head in her direction, a silent, “Are you okay?”

  Thinking of all that was at stake, and that there was no backing out now, she forced a smile and gave him a thumbs-up. He returned her smile, the full-on Justin-powered one that had told her first-grade self she would sell that last pitcher of lemonade to the next tractor that came around the bend. She turned back to Bailey, and said, “Did you see our new project?”

  …

  Justin had no idea what had Allie looking so sad, and he was tempted to crutch his way back across the gym and follow through with his plan to drag her outside. He wanted to run his hands through that reddish blondish—whatever color it was—hair, until she told him what was wrong.

  Being among all of their classmates made Dave’s absence that much sharper; maybe it did for her, too. But all he knew to do from across the gym was to grin and bear it. Then she smiled and appeared to snap out of it.

  If only the Crockett County offensive line alumni would drop the subject.

  “Remember when Dave McGrath told that defensive end from Gallatin County that he smelled like the underside of a quarantined bull with an erection lasting longer than four hours?”

  “Oh, fuck. And the guy was like, ‘No I don’t,’ and Dave went, ‘I knew you’d know what that smells like.’”

  “Damn. I wish he was here, don’t you?”

  Justin responded with an adept subject change. “There are a lot of people who aren’t here. Where’s your sister?”

  He addressed Will Cooper, the younger brother of a girl he’d dated off and on, Merilee.

  “She hit the big time, dude. Married a guy from Scotland with a shit-ton of money. Venture capitalist. He died a few months ago—skydiving accident—and she took over the business. Holy fuck. She’s doubled the fifteen jillion dollars he left her.”

  “No shit.”

  “Really. You should look her up.”

  Justin thought about Merilee. They’d had a lot of fun together, did the whole high-school-sweetheart thing for a while, but at the core of things, neither of them was head over heels for the other, something they’d agreed about over drinks a few years ago. They’d drifted apart while he was in the service, and he really hadn’t missed her.

  But now she was a venture capitalist? How about that. He happened to know someone who needed an investor.

  “You know, man, maybe I will give her a call. You got her number?”

  “Yeah, you got any more of that Blue Dog shit?”

  The conversation went downhill from there, when someone had to start talking about how his kid’s crap turned bright green every time he drank red Kool-Aid. But the good news was that even the microbrew snobs had given Allie’s Rainbow Dog flavors a taste and didn’t turn their noses up too far.

  …

  Every time Allie looked across the room, Justin was talking to someone else, laughing, greeting men he knew either with the soul clasp, pull and thump bro hug, or a good-old-boy shake and back slap. Meanwhile, Allie had had at least eight different new varieties of perfume transferred to her during the “Omigod-I-can’t-believe-how-good-you-look!” girl greeting.

  Allie had kept in Facebook- or Snapchat-touch with most of her friends from high school, but many of them had moved away, starting families and/or careers in other parts of the country, and this was the first time she’d seen them in years.

  She’d been teased about being born with a charred oak spoon in her mouth—made from the most select bourbon barrel, of course—but she was suddenly very aware that she was nowhere near as far along in life or a career as her friends. She spent the next hour fielding questions.

  “Any kids?”

  She imagined a little boy, with her red hair and Justin’s carefree smile, charming her out of scolding him for pulling his sister’s hair. A little girl, chubby-cheeked and sturdy, wrapping her daddy around her little finger.

  “Are you married?”

  Allie looked at Justin, imagining him in a tux. Maybe a tacky blue one with a ruffled shirt. She giggled. He would so totally rock that look.

  “Engaged?”

  She thought about riding a Ferris wheel, getting stuck at the top and being surprised with a diamond solitaire, ki
ssing in the sky…

  “Living with anyone?”

  Coming in the door after a long day of selling Rainbow Dog, her studmuffin former marine boyfriend greeting her with his jeans unbuttoned and barely covering his hips, holding a spatula. She’d drop to her knees…

  “At least dating someone special?”

  “Nope.”

  Justin shot her a glance from across the room. It was almost like he needed to check and make sure she hadn’t left him there. Which was ridiculous, because if anyone was the social center of the universe, it was Justin Morgan.

  But there was more than just her relationship status to consider.

  Too many people had asked variations of, “What are you doing these days? Don’t all you McGraths and Morgans get to be a vice president of something when you reach a certain age?”

  Allie handed out shots of Rainbow Dog to everyone she saw, thinking about making a drinking game for herself out of it: every time someone told her about their own job, she’d take a hit of Blue Dog. About their kids, Red Dog. Their husband’s job…she’d be praying to the porcelain god before the raffle winners were announced.

  Mercifully, the squeal of microphone feedback announced, “Everyone, listen up!” The ancient athletic director growled, “Thanks for coming out. Let’s get started with the Rockett fight song as we find our seats.”

  As Mr. Perry’s two-pack-a-day, off-key rendition of “Light ’em up Rocketts” began, Allie felt a shiver run down her spine.

  “Do we have to stay for all the rest of this shit?” Justin rumbled into her ear.

  Turning, she saw that even though he still wore that famous Morgan smile, faint white lines radiated from his eyes, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

  “What’s wrong? Is your leg bothering you?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Okay…” She dug the car keys from her bag as they made their way to the exit, saying good-bye to a few people on the way out. “I’ll get the car.”

  “That’s okay.” He crutched right along with her.

  “I thought your leg’s bothering you.”

  He shrugged then admitted, “I really just need a break from the noise and shit. All those people wanting to talk about what it was like, did I kill anyone over there…”

  “Seriously? People ask that?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Allie looked over her shoulder at the building they’d spent so many important years in. “No, not really.”

  They reached his mom’s SUV, where his leg fit best, and she unlocked the door, taking his crutches and tossing them in the back as he folded himself into the seat.

  Getting into the driver seat, she noticed how comfortable she was with Justin tonight. And how amazing he smelled, shut in the car with her. Much better than the Macy’s perfume counter she had rubbed all over her shoulder. “Hang on.” She pulled off her own long-sleeved Rocketts T-shirt and tossed it in the backseat. Then, wearing just a camisole and bra, shoved the keys in the ignition.

  “Wow. I didn’t realize we’d progressed this far in our relationship. But really, Sneezy—don’t you think you should at least pull around behind the building before you get nekkid?”

  She reached back and retrieved the shirt, holding it to his face.

  He inhaled and sneezed.

  “Ha! Who’s Sneezy now? They really should have a class called ‘Less Is More’ as a graduation requirement for Crockett County. I smell like that from getting hugged.”

  “Ugh. Glad I stayed on the boys’ side of the gym, no matter how much I hated the schmoozing.”

  When she started the car, she said, “Actually, you rescued me. If I had to hear, one more time, how successful everyone else is at being an adult, I might toss up all those crab thingies I ate.”

  “That sucks. Who said you’re not successful?” He appeared genuinely puzzled.

  “No one said it. I know it.”

  As she reached for the gearshift, Justin put his hand over hers.

  “Allie, I don’t know dick about success. But I do know that whatever it is, if you want it, you’re going to get it. If anyone has the balls to pull off this Rainbow Dog thing, it’s you.”

  His gaze shone with sincerity, and her eyes suddenly filled.

  Nodding, she covered her mouth and uttered a muffled “thanks” before faking her own sneeze and throwing the shirt in the backseat again. “Let’s get home. We need to get an early start tomorrow, and I need to iron my dress.”

  “Huh?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? We’re going to Keeneland. To a bachelorette party. For my college roommate.”

  “Oh, goody.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Allie!” the woman shrieked toward Allie and Justin through the morning dew, high heels sinking into the damp grass outside Keeneland, center of the Thoroughbred racing universe. Even the parking area was cushy.

  Enormous coils of blond hair, topped by a miniature crown with filmy veil stuff attached, bounced and shook as Allie’s friend clutched her in long, skeletal arms. Justin stood out of the way, lest he suffer hair-spray poisoning. Besides, someone had to be alive to call the EMT squad if Allie choked on whatever it was that made hair do…that.

  “Oh, Gabrielle, it’s soooo good to see you,” Allie squealed, jumping up and down, obviously as glad to see her friend as Gabrielle was to see her. She caught Justin watching her, and her hopping and jiggling became more of a smooth, but less interesting, hug.

  Three other women approached more sedately—another blonde nearly identical to Gabrielle, except with a harder look to her and significantly more tanning bed points. She faked a smile at Allie but gave him a warmer look.

  The other two women were brunette, one tall and curvy, the other short and slender.

  “Gabrielle, I’d like you to meet my…family friend, Justin Morgan,” Allie said, pulling the bride-to-be closer.

  He nodded and reached out a hand. Gabrielle took it, her grip firm and friendly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, hi, Justin.” The hard-eyed blonde had reached them. She licked her lips as she smiled at him.

  “This is Jessica,” Allie said. “She’s a stripper.”

  He nearly choked on his coffee.

  “I’m a dancer,” Jessica corrected, her smile never wavering. “I don’t take off my clothes. In public.” She added, “I was classically trained and spent a few years in New York, but moved home to care for my mother, who’s ill. I dance at a cabaret in Cincinnati a couple of nights a week to stay in shape.”

  “How, uh, nice,” Justin said.

  “And this is Emily.” Allie drew the tall girl forward, “And Karen.” The smaller woman nodded at him and gave him a little wave, followed by a look at Allie that Justin might have interpreted as approval, if he were looking for such a thing. Which he wasn’t. Because, he reminded himself, he wasn’t thinking of Allie that way.

  He promptly forgot everyone’s name, except the stripper, because she had “Jessica” emblazoned in questionably tasteful rhinestones across her generous bosom.

  “It’s so nice of you to do this for me,” the bride told Allie as the group made its way toward the camper. Allie had set it up with the awning extended and a couple of little tables and chairs next to it.

  “When you told me you were having a bachelorette party, I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to practice our bartending skills with a little tailgate party.”

  How in the hell had he gone from rising with the dawn to trudge through dust and heat, all the while trying to keep himself and his comrades alive, to playing bartender at a bachelorette party? The sense of disconnect was so complete that he felt like he was operating in an alternate universe.

  Justin forced himself back into his own body, put his coffee on the table he was using as a bar, and opened a cooler while Allie handed out pint-size mason jars she’d decorated with bride-y crap: white ribbons and flowers and lacy shit and discreet little labels that said “Rainbow
Dog, Blue Mountain.” She’d told him that if things worked out, they could get jars engraved with a logo. Faboo, Justin thought, rolling his eyes—though he secretly thought that would be cool.

  “I’m working on some cute little dog labels. I just don’t have them from the printer yet.”

  Justin had no idea when she’d done this. He’d assume she didn’t sleep, except he’d seen her last night, sacked out, when he got up to get a glass of milk. She was on the couch, arms and legs splayed, blanket on the floor. Not a care in the world. Apparently not even cold in the tiny tank top and shorts she wore. Until he covered her with the quilt and sneaked back to bed, feeling dirty—and aroused.

  The women cooed and purred over the decorations while Justin poured drinks one-handed, holding himself upright—barely—with one crutch. After being on his feet for so long at last night’s alumni fund-raiser, his leg was stiff and his side was sore—but he wasn’t going to tell Allie that. She’d try to make him go inside the camper and lie down, and he wasn’t about to miss whatever was going to happen today. He had to admit, since she’d come up with this harebrained scheme to be a moonshine mogul, his life had gotten significantly more interesting. Today’s dry run with the camper was going smoothly so far, but you never knew.

  Besides, he sensed that she needed his help with the toxic Jessica. Who was leaning against the table, watching him pour drinks as Allie and Gabrielle greeted another handful of squealing college friends.

  “So. You’re the soldier,” Jessica said.

  “I was. A marine.”

  “What are you doing now?” she asked.

  “Quality assurance for the family business.”

  “So you drink bourbon.” She raised a well-arched eyebrow.

  “I drink bourbon,” he agreed.

  “Allie was always so cute in college—she had your picture on her bulletin board.”

  “Yeah?” Justin was curious in spite of himself.

  “She wouldn’t tell us anything about you, though. Just that you were some guy she knew from home.”

  He shrugged. “I guess that’s what I was. Am.”

  “I don’t know,” Jessica said. “I caught her crying one time when she was drunk, holding your picture. She just said she was worried about you and her brother.