gave me a call about an hour and a half ago. I’m afraid Dash ran into a little bit of trouble with Roy Burdett down at The Spot.”
Savannah stared at her unruly cousin. “You got into a bar fight on the night before Uncle Harry’s funeral?”
Dash said not a word. Possibly because his lip was injured, but probably because he had nothing to say in his own defense.
Chief Easley grinned like he thought it was a joke or something. “Well, that’s not all that unusual when you consider Roy Burdett. I took Dash over to the clinic, and Doc Cooper put a couple of stitches in his lip. The good news is that, even though Roy knocked the crap out of him, Dash doesn’t appear to have a concussion. Otherwise Doc would have probably kept him under observation all night.”
“I need to get my car.” Dash’s voice sounded muffled and slurred.
“I’ll see about having someone drive it over in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive.”
Well, of course not. Dash was obviously three sheets to the wind. Savannah watched as her cousin made his way up the porch steps. He leaned a little unsteadily against the porch railing and turned back toward the policeman. “Thanks, Damian.”
Officer Easley tipped his hat a second time. “Good night, y’all. I’m sorry about your loss.” A moment later the cruiser’s headlights swung in a wide arc, and the night returned to darkness.
Dash turned toward Savannah. “Don’t look at me like that. Roy tackled me because of Dottie’s jukebox. Everyone’s a music critic these days.”
His words were hard to understand through the swelling and the ice pack.
“Do you need help getting to bed?” she asked.
“Are you volunteering to tuck me in?”
Was that a put-down? Or was it a come-on? Ew.
And just like that, a little unwanted vibration of awareness shot through her, underscoring the nonexistent status of her current social life. Dash had grown into an amazingly handsome man—all craggy-faced in a Harrison Ford kind of way. Even with a bloody shirt and a swollen lip, he looked like some larger-than-life movie cowboy. But still. This was Dash she was looking at. Her cousin.
Okay, so he wasn’t really her cousin exactly, but they were still related.
And he was a total screwup. And a drunk. And he was trying to mess with her mind like he always did.
She gave him her Uma-Thurman-as-Beatrix-Kiddo squint that still put the fear of God into Todd. “Honestly, I should ground you or something. You’re acting like an out-of-control teenager.”
He didn’t seem all that affected by the squint. He pushed off the porch railing and walked slowly toward the front door. He moved carefully like a drunk who didn’t want to stumble.
“Here, let me help you with the—”
“I don’t need your help.” His words sounded angry as he managed to open the door. He headed across the foyer toward the stairway in a kind of stiff-legged walk. He was obviously limping. Savannah followed in his wake like a mother chasing after an unsteady one-year-old. Boy, he had really put on a bender tonight, hadn’t he?
Maybe he was so sad about Uncle Harry’s passing he’d tried to numb his grief with booze.
Or maybe he put on a bender most nights.
He took the first step and let out a groan. He stopped, bending over to massage his knee. He was listing to one side. In a minute, he was going to fall ass-over-teacart. Savannah snagged his shoulders and steadied him on his feet. “Whoa there, pardner,” she said in a phony drawl, as the feel of bone, sinew, and soft cotton beneath her fingers triggered an unexpected and entirely unacceptable internal response.
She resisted the instinct to draw back as if she’d been scalded. If she did that, Dash would fall.
“Thank you, princess,” he said under his breath. He steadied himself and took the first couple of steps up to the landing. “You know, I’m not nearly as drunk as you think I am.”
“Oh, really?” she said, letting go of his shoulders. Releasing him didn’t seem to help her spiky heart rhythm one bit, especially since her field of vision filled with a view of his Wranglered butt. He had a very nice butt. She hated herself for even noticing.
He stumbled again as he attempted the quarter turn on the landing. She darted up beside him, and he sagged against her, his arm snaking over her shoulder. She took a portion of his weight and became uncomfortably aware of Dash’s muscular chest.