Pistol Whipped - Ashley Bostock Page 0,11

crazy for not accepting what’s being handed to me with no-questions-asked? How does he even know I qualify for the job?”

“Oh Logan, you need to have more faith in yourself. You would definitely qualify for the job. You’re super smart and a fast learner. You are so competitive, you don’t know how to fail. You would be great.” She finished her drink. Grabbed the last one. She frowned. “My last wine cooler. Have I drunk that many already? What am I going to have next?”

Logan chuckled. “I think four wine coolers is enough, don’t you?” Logan watched her throat bob up and down as she swallowed the fruity flavors. “You’re going to get drunk, you know? You drank all those in like an hour or something.”

She smiled. “So, what if I do? I have you to take care of me, right? At least until the early morning hours.”

Logan nodded his head in agreement and didn’t respond to her, afraid of what he might say. He wanted to take care of her all night into the wee hours of the morning that was certain. But he was also certain that wasn’t how she meant it. At a minimum, he was dying to kiss her. It may be the one time in his life he was willing to taste her wet wine cooler lips that glistened underneath his living room light bulb.

Gabriella reached for his beer and took a swig. “Did you and Lucy sleep together the first night you met?”

Alarm bells dinged in his head. Where was this conversation headed? Cautiously, he gave her a slow nod. “Umm, yeah. Is that a crime?”

“No, it’s no crime.” Her bottom lip jutted out. “She wasn’t nervous or…or scared or anything?”

Logan looked at her quizzically. “No. Why would she be?”

“Well, some people are afraid to have sex, you know.”

Logan wasn’t sure what she was trying to say with this conversation, where she was going but he could tell Gabbie was already buzzing. Aside from the fact that her S’s were coming out longer than necessary, she would never bring this subject up to him.

“Who is afraid to have sex?” he laughed. “We’re talking sex, Gabbie. Who? Name one person you know that lets fear rule their body rather than opting for an orgasm or two or three or four. Name one.” He held up his finger.

“Two or three or four? You’ve got to be kidding me! I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s super silly really,” she giggled. “It’s super silly. Say that three times fast. Anyway, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You just wouldn’t believe it.”

He took a swig of his—empty—beer and set it back down next to her pile of empty bottles. “No. We are having this conversation. Who?”

“Me. I’m afraid to have sex.”

She wouldn’t look into his eyes. Was she that drunk already? He almost laughed at the absurdity of the topic, but he could see it on her face that she was dead-fucking-serious.

“Why?” Was all he could manage to choke out.

She met his gaze. “I just am. People get…pregnant.” He watched her shudder. “You just can’t trust people. He-eeeey.” She drew out her words, her voice getting high-pitched. “I have an idea.”

Uh, oh. An idea. This couldn’t be good. She grabbed another beer from his fridge, this time bringing Logan back his own to drink. If he were a great friend—which was now debatable due to this unforeseen attraction he was having toward her—he would have taken her beer away. But he wanted her to keep talking, he wanted to hear her out, wanted to know why she was so afraid of sex. And getting pregnant? Yeah, that was a risk, but if you used protection, it was a slim-to-none risk. Why was she so hell-bent on that aspect?

“You know I don’t want kids.” More slurry s’s. “What if I wound up pregnant by someone? That would be the end of my career as you know it!”

“I know you have never wanted kids, but Gabbie, people have kids and careers all of the time. They make it work. You would, too. You know I’ve always thought you’d make a great mother.”

“I know, but after the way I grew up with Tammy Crawford, I would hate to have a child live the way I did.”

“You would never be like your mother, Cinderella. Ever. To even compare yourself to her disappoints me.”

“But there would always be that chance. Oh!” She set her beer down on the table, the clunk