“What if someone caught her back there and is harassing her?” I growled to Pick, needing to check on her safety, which surprised the shit out of me. Outside of my brothers and sister, and okay, maybe my teammates on the field, oh, and possibly my coworkers, I’d never felt protective of anyone before. Not over a girl I wanted, anyway.
“I’ll check on her,” Pick said, lifting his eyebrows in that fatherly way, telling me to back off.
I glowered at him even as I practically shoved him toward the hallway. “Well, get to it, then.”
He left and returned almost immediately. “She’s fine,” was his only answer.
I opened my mouth to demand details. She was fine how? Fine with some other guy? Fine, as in not puking her guts out? Fine, as in passed out peacefully and untouched in the back office? I needed to know more. Everything.
But last call came, and work stole my attention for the next half hour. I kept looking for her, but I never saw her again. She must’ve slipped out between people when I wasn’t looking. Which aggravated me to no end. I couldn’t even get one final glimpse of her in that unforgettable backless number.
Pick found a pair of sloshing drunk girls and offered to help them home, leaving me behind to clean up behind the bar. More people filtered out, and the waitresses got busy sweeping and straightening the main area.
I was wiping down the bar when I saw someone from the corner of my eye stumbling out of the hall that led to the bathrooms. Since we had closed ten minutes ago and the place was empty of customers, I glanced over to tell whoever that they needed to clear out.
But Aspen Kavanagh was too busy digging into her purse and pulling out a set of keys to notice me.
My mouth fell open. She hadn’t left yet. I soaked in my last glimpse, so occupied with my perusal that it took me a second to realize exactly what she was doing.
Christ, she wasn’t seriously going to drive in her condition, was she?
Sorting through the ring full of metal until she found the key she sought, she tripped on her fuck-me heels, bumped into the side of a table, and then straightened herself before weaving a crooked path toward the door.
Oh, hell, no. “Hey!” I called. “Dr. Kavanagh.”
She didn’t hear me, or just plain ignored me.
As she pushed her way outside, I cursed. “Vick.” I turned toward a waitress who was pulling out bills and counting them at the cash register. “You guys okay here?”
She didn’t even pause her count, but nodded and waved me on. “Yeah. You can go ahead and go.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t wait around for her to change her mind. Setting a hand on the counter, I leaped over it and dashed toward the door.
A nip in the wind bit through my shirt as soon as I exited, reminding me I’d left my jacket inside. But I didn’t care; I’d get it later.
Glancing around for my professor and spotting her instantly, I cupped my hand around my mouth. “Aspen!”
She faltered and whirled around, dropping her keys in the middle of the street. A car had just turned down the block, but she didn’t seem to notice its approach as she bent over to retrieve her key chain, startling me with a view of just how nice her ass looked in that short little dress. Panic leapt into my veins as I worried the car was about to turn her into a pancake.
Popping off the curb, I raced forward, grasped her elbow and manually helped her back upright just as she got ahold of the keys. The oncoming car slowed when it caught us in its headlights, but I hurried her out of its path anyway.
She brushed my hand away as soon as we made it to the parking lot and the car sped up, driving past.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
I set my hands on my hips and loomed over her. “I’m trying to find out what the fuck you think you’re doing.”
She attempted to stand erect, tightening up her shoulders, but ended up stumbling a step to the left. “I...” She paused to hiccup. Damn, why did I have to think drunk chicks hiccupping was so adorable? “I’m going home. The bar closed. My...my date stood me up.”
A wrinkle between her eyebrows formed when she confessed that. She looked confused and hurt.
I sighed. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “You weren’t seriously going to drive home, though, were you? By yourself?”
She turned to look at her car as if considering her answer. Then she weaved sloppily back around. “Well, it certainly won’t fly me home.”
“Dear God.” I rubbed my forehead. “How can you have a PhD at twenty-three and be this naive?”