The Wright Boss(63)

"We should get you home." 

"Ugh, why?"

"You have work in the morning. You're drunk. You need to talk to me, and this isn't helping as much as you want to believe."

Her eyes glazed over, and she quickly glanced away from me. She was hurt. I knew that. I could see that.

"I'm staying here," she said halfheartedly.

"Don't make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of this bar."

"You wouldn't," she spat. "Your back."

I arched an eyebrow. "Watch me."

She bit her lip, as if she had more concern for my injury than she had for trying to talk to me. I appreciated the sentiment because throwing her over my shoulder would probably be a really dumb move. But I'd do it anyway.

"Fine," she said, throwing her pool stick onto the table and storming out before me.

I sighed heavily and followed after her. "Heidi," I called when we made it outside. "Hey, are you okay?"

She whirled around on me. "You know, I made out with that guy Tommy on New Year's."

I clenched my jaw. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah. He's, like, a totally normal guy. We hit it off real fine. And when you left me there all alone, I went and found someone else. I made out with him because you weren't there. You were married. You couldn't be with me. And I wanted to forget you."

"You can't forget me, Heidi. No matter how far you try to push me away or come up with reasons that we can't be together, we will always end up right here." I pointed at the pavement between us. "Because I am yours, and you are mine. And we are not just a finite point on a line; we are limitless."





Twenty-Five



Heidi


"Jesus, Landon," I whispered, crumbling at his words.

I had been so busy being drunk and frustrated and freaking jealous that I wasn't able to see past my own ego. I didn't know what had happened at that dinner with Miranda. I only had worst-case scenarios running through my head even though I'd told him to go. Or maybe because I'd told him to go.

When I wanted to tell him to stay.

Stay.

Just stay with me.

Don't give in to her.

Don't listen to her.

Please, God, don't fuck this up.

Landon bridged the short distance between us and placed a soft kiss on my lips. The fire extinguished out of me in a rush. I melted into him, throwing my arms around his neck.

"I'm so glad you're here," I whispered.

"Me, too, firecracker. Me, too."

I laughed. That goddamn nickname.

"Can we get you home now?" he asked, pointing toward the Mercedes.

"What about my car?"

"We'll get it in the morning."

I nodded with a sigh. "Yeah. Okay."

We piled into the car, and he drove me back to my apartment in silence. I had a million questions buzzing around my head, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to ask them. My brain was fuzzy, and I knew that I'd had too much to drink. Like, if I could tell that I was pretty drunk, that was a bad sign. I was one of those people who would constantly claim, I'm not drunk, when I clearly was.

But Peter knew what week it was. So, I wasn't surprised that he never cut me off tonight.

Landon helped me stumble up to my apartment, and I was happy to see that Emery wasn't there. She slept over at Jensen's all the time anyway. And I did not want to have that awkward moment with her and Landon. It would have to happen one day. Preferably not while I was wasted.

"Which way?" Landon asked as he shut the door behind us.



       
         
       
        

I was suddenly self-conscious of the fact that Landon was here, in my apartment. I'd been to his, but he'd never been here.

"Uh … that room." I pointed out my bedroom.

He put his hand on the small of my back as we walked across the elaborately decorated living room and into my bedroom. It was pretty big for the size of the apartment. I liked that I could have a massive king-size bed, and it didn't fill up the entire room. That had been the selling point … along with the walk-in closet and stand-up shower.

"Fuck," I said as I nearly ran into my four-poster bed. My head was spinning. "How much did I drink tonight?"

"I'm going to go with a lot. You were this drunk that night we played pool with Em last Christmas."

"No way," I slurred. "Em was way drunker than me that night."

"Yes. But you were wasted, too."

"And you wouldn't even help me inside."

"Yes, well," he said, glancing away from me.

"What?"

I leaned against a post of my bed and stared at him. His eyes met mine, full of desire, and suddenly, I was so fucking turned on. One look, and I was a goner.