Love Song(56)

I still her with my hand. I’ve never stopped a woman mid blowjob, but this is wrong. I’m trying to pretend she’s Blake, and Mira doesn’t deserve that.

“Just relax,” she urges again as my phone suddenly buzzes on the dash.

I ignore the incoming text, touching Mira’s cheek to lift her off my rapidly deflating cock. Not that it was overly inflated in the first place.

“Mira,” I start. “I’m not—”

My phone buzzes again. And then again and again. I realize it’s not a text. It’s a call.

Annoyance flashes in her eyes as I reach for it. “Seriously? I’m sucking your dick, Wyatt.”

“I’m sorry. It might be important.” When I check the screen, my stomach drops, and all traces of arousal leave my body. I already wasn’t feeling this hookup, but seeing Blake’s name on my phone has cemented that.

I answer without delay. “Hey. You okay?”

Her urgent voice fills my ear. “Wyatt. Oh thank God. Can you come get me?”

Is she slurring?

“Get you from where?”

“North shore. Like, a house. I want to leave but there’s no drivers and Landon won’t drive. I mean, he would if he could, but he can’t drive because we’re really, really, really drunk.”

Who the fuck is Landon?

Mira touches my arm and tries to ask a question, but I shrug her off and silence her with a look.

“Where on the north shore?” I’m already starting the engine. “Where did you go?”

“A party. I texted you the address earlier.” Her voice slurs again. “Can’t be here anymore. I don’t feel good. Dizzy and…” She trails off.

Fear fills my throat. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m—” She hiccups. “I’m too drunk. I don’t want to be here anymore. Can you come get me? Please? I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m on my way.”

I throw the Jeep in reverse and pull out of our parking space behind the bar. Because yes, I was hooking up in a parking lot behind the bar.

After Blake disconnects, I click on our chat thread. I hadn’t checked my phone when Mira and I were inside, and now I wish I had, because if I’d seen these messages from Blake? She sure as hell wouldn’t have gone to some party at Landon’s house.

Who the fuck is Landon?

“What’s going on? Who was that?” Mira asks suspiciously.

“Blake. Family friend.”

“You mean Blake Logan? I didn’t realize she was in town too.”

“Yeah. She’s drunk at some party, and I need to go get her.” I turn onto the main road, glancing over. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop you off at home first.”

“I can go with you,” Mira offers.

“It’s fine. I can handle it.”

That isn’t the answer she wants to hear, but I don’t care. I ignore her stony expression and drop her off with a muttered “Sorry about tonight,” and she gives a dramatic flip of her hair and slams the door with more force than necessary.

I barely notice.

Anxiety twists in my stomach. What the hell is Blake doing at some random party? And how did she get so wasted she can’t even find her own way home?

And. Who. The. Fuck. Is. Landon.

The drive is a blur, GPS bringing me to a small cabin near Kings Beach. It’s not a bad area by any means, but considering she mentioned a party, I’m expecting thumping music and a lawn overrun with drunk people. But it’s eerily quiet, and the only person I see is the slumped-over figure on the front porch.

My heart jumps into my throat when I realize it’s Blake.

I throw open the door and race toward her. “Blake!” I shout, fear racing up my spine.

She’s half sitting, half lying on her side, her cheek pressed against her bent arm. One strap of her floral sundress hangs off her shoulder, and her feet are bare. Where the hell are her shoes?

“Blake,” I say urgently.

She lifts her head, and relief floods my gut to find she isn’t passed out. While her blue eyes are hazy, she doesn’t look completely out of it. Mascara isn’t even smudged.

“Are you okay?” I kneel in front of her and cup her cheeks. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Fine. I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy. Was lying down.”

“Why are you lying down on this asshole’s porch? Where is he?”

“Oh.” She glances around as if realizing she’s alone. “He went inside to use the bathroom. Thought he was coming back out…” She blinks a few times. “Guess he forgot to come back…” She trails off.

I am going to strangle this motherfucker’s throat until his eyes pop out of the sockets.

“How much did you guys drink?”

“Not how much. What.”

“Huh?”

“I only had a few shots. But it was absinthe.”

“Goddamn it, Logan.”

“It was good.” To my utter chagrin, she’s grinning. Pleased with herself. “Maybe not the taste. It’s like…a bag of black licorice exploding in your throat. But then…it’s good!”

I swallow a sigh. “Come on, let’s get you up.” I help her to her feet, but she’s wobbling hard. “Where are your shoes?”