Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,32

then think better of it. “Not that you’d want to kiss an asshole like me.”

She turns away, sparing me the look of revulsion that’s probably on her face. “Can you drive?” she asks in a clipped voice.

“Yeah.” I don’t feel drunk, just gruesome. I grab the popcorn bag and open the top, letting the steam out. Then I pour it into one of Rickie’s plastic mixing bowls. “I need—”

Chastity is already ripping paper towels off the roll, anticipating my every need. “I also made you a water bottle. Do you have a travel mug for the coffee?” She spots it even before she finishes the sentence. “Get your violin, Dylan. We have to get out of here.”

Moments later, I allow myself to be herded toward the door. The fiddle goes on the back seat, and Chastity arranges various beverages in the cup holders while I warm up the engine and shove popcorn into my mouth. My wet hair is dripping on my collar, but at least I’m clean and combed.

We don't speak for the first few miles. I feel squinty and half asleep. And so, so embarrassed. That girl in my bed? I don't remember her name. That's a new low for me. I like to party, and I like my hookups. But I’m not that big of an asshole—the kind who doesn’t bother with names.

If Chastity hadn’t been standing there, I would have apologized profusely to Pink Panties for my failure to put out. But I couldn’t take the chance that she’d lash out with any more of last night’s details.

The last thing I remember was Pink Panties leaning over me in bed, taking my cock into her mouth.

At that, I let out a groan. Because I can't believe I fell asleep in the middle of a perfectly good blowjob. What kind of loser does that?

“Do you feel sick?” Chastity asks me quietly.

“No, just embarrassed.”

She's quiet for a second, and I imagine her judging me. But then I feel a tremor of laughter coming from the other side of the bench seat. She actually giggles and claps a hand over her mouth.

“What's so funny?” I ask as I accelerate past a hay truck.

“You,” she gasps. “You actually jumped.”

“What? Jumped where?”

“When I woke you up? And the girl started speaking? You startled like Jacquie when she sees a squirrel.”

“Oh, hell no, I did not,” I lie. Because goats are particularly funny when they’re startled. And I'm a vain motherfucker sometimes.

“You totally did,” she laughs. “Should we call her and ask her?”

“Oh, stop,” I say, and I find myself smiling for the first time in days. I take a handful of popcorn from the bowl between us. “So I might have forgotten she was over there. Don’t rub it in, okay? My reputation is probably gonna take a hit as it is.”

“Poor baby,” Chastity hiccups. “The long line of girls waiting for a turn in your bed is going to be whittled down to a manageable number.”

I laugh, but the comment startles me. Chastity doesn't usually go there. She doesn't talk about my sexual exploits, although I shouldn’t be too surprised that she’s noticed them.

And she's still good to me anyway. She doesn’t judge. “You’re a good friend, Chass. Seriously. Thank you for dragging my ass out this morning, so I don’t miss this thing I totally dread but shouldn’t blow off.”

“You’re welcome,” she says a little stiffly.

That’s when I remember something. “Hey, is my coat within reach on the seat?”

She glances over her shoulder. “Sure, why?”

“There's something for you in the pocket. The left side.”

“For me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. It's just a little thing. Grab it, okay?” I need to leave my hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. My head is still a little foggy, and I won’t take chances with Chastity’s safety.

God knows I’m willing to fuck up my own life from time to time. But not hers. She’s had enough trouble with idiots already.

She unclips her seatbelt and stretches back between the headrests to grab my wool coat. I glance to my right to check her progress, and I can’t help but notice the smooth skin of her belly where her sweater has ridden up and the way her hips are framed by her jeans.

And, yup, I may be sober now, but I'm still an asshole. Because friends do not stare at friends’ stomachs, wondering if their skin is as soft as it looks.

Luckily, Chastity quickly flops back into her seat, holding the dainty little