Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(67)

But Megan kept chanting “graduation” at the top of her lungs, so I did the second shot of tequila. Then a third in less than five minutes. Megan and the boys, who I found out were graduating from Sheridan High, were awfully convincing with their little chants, drumrolls, and cheering.

Damn peer pressure will get you every time.

The taller of the two, who Megan referred to as Jer-Bear, smelled like bananas. And he had the hots for Megan. That much I could tell despite how glassy my vision had become.

“My boyfriend calls me Blair Bear.” I beamed at him as he poured another round. “Also, we should be besties because you’re very good at making drinks.”

He laughed, sliding a glass over to me, and half the liquid sloshed over the side. I frowned dramatically at him. “Okay…maybe not so great, after all.”

When the effects of the last shot of tequila hit me, I was astonished that I felt relatively okay. Stumbling? Definitely. A little incoherent? For sure. But I needed to find Denver and proudly show him how well his girlfriend could handle her alcohol. Three and a half shots of tequila, and living to tell the tale.

I found him sitting outside in an Adirondack chair, talking to a couple guys we graduated with. Mid-conversation, I interrupted by sliding into his lap and open-mouth kissing him.

“You okay?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste like you’ve been drinking tequila.”

“Ta-kill-ya, actually. That’s what Jer-Bear called it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused rather than threatened by the mention of a strange guy. “Who the hell is Jer-Bear?”

“Some guy from Sheridan. That’s what Megan called him. I never did ask if the Jer is short for Jeremy or Jared…. Oh, maybe he’s a Jerome. Gerry with a G?” I started to stand up. “You know, I should go ask him. This is going to bug me if I don’t know.”

“Actually”—Denver grabbed hold of my wrist—“we should probably get you home.”

I groaned like a petulant child, but followed behind him out of the party, dragging my feet as we walked down the road to his truck.

“Remind me to text Megan tomorrow and ask about Jer-Bear’s name.” I pointed a finger at Denver as he opened the passenger door and boosted me into the seat.

“Of course, baby.”

“I won’t rest until I know.” My head was sloshy, and I leaned it against his shoulder the moment he got into the truck, my eyes suddenly incredibly hard to keep open.

“I know you won’t.”

“I bet it’s Jeremy. He seemed like a Jeremy. Jeremy Bearemy.”



* * *



—

I woke up to Denver trying his best to lift me out of the truck. I flailed on instinct, nearly causing him to drop me, which was enough to convince him I was better off walking. Still though, he slung an arm around my waist for the short walk to my front door.

My dad was sitting in his recliner watching TV, and he looked up at us, then double-checked the time. “You’re home earlier than I expected.”

“Yeah…” Denny hooked his thumb toward me. “This one needs to go to bed.”

“All right, well, guess this means I get to go to bed early, too.” Dad clapped his hands together, practically jumping for joy to not be obligated to stay up late waiting for us.

We stumbled—rather, I stumbled, and Denver kept me upright—down the hall and into my dark bedroom. The instant I heard the door click shut behind us, I threw my arms around Denver and kissed him, walking him backward until he fell onto the bed. Climbing to straddle him, I slid my hands up his shirt until he grabbed my wrists and stopped me with a heaving breath.

“Blair, baby, not now.”

“But this was the plan for tonight, right? Quick stop at the party, then we’d have time alone.”

“Right. That was before you decided to shoot tequila.” He sat up, removing me from his lap. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

I stuck my bottom lip out, letting him pull my shirt off, then lying back so he could wiggle the tight jeans off me. The room spun wildly, and I swallowed down the indigestion rising in my throat.

“I love you,” I murmured as he unclasped my bra. My head shoved through the neck hole of a baggy T-shirt, and my heavy arms struggled with the sleeves. “I can’t wait to move away from this place in a few months and have our own apartment. Just the two of us all the time.”

“Yeah…” he said quietly. Even in my drunken state, I could tell he was lacking any sort of excitement in his voice.

“Aren’t you stoked to have privacy? No more long drives in your truck so we can hook up. No more sneaking you into my room at night.”

“Bear, let’s talk about this in the morning.” He slipped his own shirt over his head and unbuckled his jeans while I stared in disbelief.

“Why?”

“I love you. Get some sleep, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” Helping me into my bed, he tucked the covers around me, but I refused—shoving them away and sitting upright to look at him. When he turned the overhead light off, I found the switch for my bedside lamp, turning it on.

“What is there to talk about? Just agree that it’s going to be amazing to live together in the city.”

“Blair.”