The Broody Brit for Christmas (Holiday Springs #1) - M.J. Fields Page 0,35
and add a little milk. “Doesn’t that man know all he needs to do is wear that damn kilt and they drop like flies at his feet?”
I groan. “Don’t encourage that behavior from him, please. And give me a shot of Jameson on the side, will you?”
“Was gonna ask you how the date went, guessing you didn’t bring Nikki home, huh?”
I don’t want to act like I don't care, nor do I want to admit I acted a fool. I squeeze and remove the tea bag, and take a sip as I consider my words.
“Obviously not.” I also don’t want to act like a hurt little girl, because honestly, until the Nellie incident, I had no intention of bringing her back here tonight. The intention was to do so tomorrow night.
“You think you can bring old Chappy home before he tips over and falls off his feet?”
I look over my shoulder to find him slumped against the jukebox, fast asleep.
“He’s been here since —”
“I’m aware. Millie’s angry at him for something again.”
I push back on my stool and stand up. “Am I going to need a vomit bag?”
“Nope, he’s been passed out there for a good hour and a half. Might need to have some help to get him out to your vehicle though. Old buzzard has always been hard to wake up.”
On my way back from dumping Hank off at his place, wipers going a mile a minute, I swear to God above I must be seeing things.
I slow down just to make sure I’m not.
Walking down the sidewalk, coat draped over her head in the pouring rain, I spot her. It’s not easy to miss those city girl high-heeled boots and the wool coat. After taking a nice long look at that sweet peach of an arse, I pull up beside Nikki.
Rolling down the window, she pauses, and I yell to her. “You need a ride?”
She looks over at me, mascara smeared under her eyes and sniffs. Lip quivering, she answers, “I’m fine.”
“Get in the vehicle, Nikki.” I throw the car into park and step out into the rain, ready to lift her over my shoulder and toss her in the back if necessary.
She shakes her head. “I can’t deal with all that.” She waves her hand up and down toward me. “I’m already on the second biggest head trip of my life so just—”
“Could you at the very least tell me why you’re walking down Main Street at midnight in a tsunami?” The rain is soaking through my shirt, but frankly, I barely notice. All I can process is Nikki, sopping wet from rain and tears.
Adamantly, she shakes her head. “No.”
“Then can you get in the vehicle so I can take you back to your place?”
“She locked me out.”
“She what?” I gasp.
“I told you, I can’t deal with all that, so just go, okay? I’ll figure it out.”
“You look like you could use a friend right now.”
“You’re not my friend, Raff. Friends don’t almost kiss. So—”
Before she can get another word out, I blurt, “I’ll take you to Jenny’s.” The rain pours down even harder, soaking us both to the bone.
“She’s sick, and I can’t get sick. I have an interview Monday, which may lead to a chance to get the hell out of this place. I should have never come back. I don’t belong here any—”
“The fuck you don’t.” I scoop her up, walking to the other side of my vehicle. With my free hand, I open the car door and place her inside the seat. “Seat belt.”
When I climb in the driver’s seat, she’s silently sobbing, soaking wet coat still hanging over her head.
“Jesus Christ,” I snarl as I shut the door.
As soon as I’m in and buckled, I notice her hands tremble as she puts on her seat belt. I pull onto the road and head toward the bar, but not before blasting the heat.
Once parked, I kill the engine and sit back. “It wasn’t often that Hope got emotional, but when she was pregnant, she had major mood swings. That first trimester was killer. So, I know enough to know right now, you either want a hug or to be left alone. Being so soon in this,” I pause before stating what’s obvious to me, a relationship, and what she’s avoiding at all costs, and rethink my words, “I don’t know you well enough to gauge what it is you need, so you’re going to have to tell me.”