Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,69

they finally went away to rat her out.

“Alf gave me a shot.”

“Of what?”

“I think it was tequila. They had a ski with shot glasses on it.”

“A ski? Like…for snow?”

“Yeah, but it was wood. And there were holes drilled into it where shot glasses fit. The point is to—” She had to stop and yawn. “—tip it and everybody drinks at the same time.”

“Why?”

“Because funner,” she’d said. And then she’d sacked out on my thigh.

So here I sit, questioning all my life choices. I didn’t know she’d had tequila, and it explains her sudden drunkenness. I’m not sure she ate dinner tonight, either.

I wonder if I could lose my scholarships for giving alcohol to Ellie. The idea makes me feel numb. Getting almost-arrested is emotionally draining.

With my head against the concrete, I’m just nodding off when I hear someone coming down the corridor. I jerk awake just in time to see Dylan Shipley following the security officer toward me.

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more embarrassed.

“Ellie.” I nudge the girl who’s drooling on my jeans. “Wake up.”

She sits up quickly, and then grabs her head. “Oh my God. The room is spinning.”

I brace myself for her to puke again, but it doesn’t happen.

“Oh!” she says instead. “Hot Farm Boy is here to save us.”

Dylan cracks a smile. “Who wants to go home?”

“Me!” Ellie’s hand shoots up the air like the adorable teacher’s pet that she is. The second the officer opens the door, she shoots out past him. “Can we just go?” she asks, a hand on the wall to steady herself. “I think I had a coat.”

Rising from the bench, I lift my chin, trying to hold on to the last shreds of my dignity. But I probably smell like Ellie’s puke, and there’s a spot of her drool on my jeans.

I swear it was less humiliating to work at Walgreens in my Laura Ingalls dress and uncut hair.

When I step outside the cell, Dylan folds me against his chest. I take a deep inhale, because I can’t help myself. And he smells like… “Caramel?”

“Yeah, I tried to call you. But when you didn’t answer, I just assumed it was because I’m still getting the silent treatment.” He pats my back and then releases me.

My face heats, because he’s not wrong. I have been snubbing him. But only because I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to go back to being his little buddy, now that I know exactly what he looks like when he’s…

A shiver runs through me.

“Cold?” He asks, rubbing my shoulder, the touch doubling my goosebumps.

“N-no,” I mutter. “I’m fine. Let’s just go, okay? Did they call you?”

“I’m on your emergency contacts list. And Ellie’s parents said it was okay for me to collect both of you.”

“Can we go outside?” Ellie asks. “I feel drunk again.”

“Let’s take you home,” I say, stepping away from Dylan’s hotness.

“Good idea,” she babbles. “I’m sorry you had to spring us out of jail, Hot Farm Boy. We were a little naughty. We went to a fraternity party.”

“Really,” Dylan says, sounding amused.

“Which one?” the security officer asks.

“I forgot,” Ellie says cheerfully. She won’t throw Alf under the bus, I guess. “It doesn’t matter, because I turned down sex with the vegans.”

“Oh, Alpha Mu,” the officer muses.

“So did Chastity!” Ellie continues. Our coats are hanging from pegs just inside the front door, and I lunge for them, hoping she’ll stop talking. But no. “Chastity didn’t have sex with a vegan, either,” she says. “But they were very interested. Very. Are you a vegan?” She blinks up at Dylan.

“I’m a dairy farmer,” he points out. “So that would be a no.”

“Good!” Ellie says, reaching up to give his biceps a little squeeze. “I think both Chastity and I are meat lovers.”

“Ellie!” I yelp, and I’m cringing inside. “Let’s go.” If we could just get out of this building, I could send Dylan on his way.

Or that was my plan, anyway. But his truck is at the curb. “Climb in, ladies.”

“Oh!” Ellie says. “But I smell like vomit.”

“This truck has seen a few things in its day,” he says easily. “Just sit by the window so you can open it if necessary.”

“Great idea! And that way Chastity can sit next to you.” She winks.

I should really make a point to choose friends who can hold their liquor.

We climb into the truck, and it’s just as awkward as you’d think it would be to be sprung from fake jail by