you slurring?” Couldn’t hurt to be sure.
“‘Course not,” she said. But her eyelids started to drift lower. Then they snapped back open.
“How are you planning to get to your sister’s place?” he asked.
“I frove. Drove. I have everything I own in the car ‘cept my couch and recliner.”
“Kelly,” he said, leaning closer to her, speaking softly. “You know that stress you were talking about? You wouldn’t be taking medication for that, would you?”
“Hm. Just a little something for the prood blessure and xiety. I’m not taking those sleeping pills, no way. If I fall asleep, I dream about the whole thing!”
“I guess that’s good news,” he said, gently moving her second extra-dry martini out of her reach.
“Hey!”
“I bet it said something on those pill bottles about alcohol not being a good idea while taking that medication,” he said. “You’re a little loopy.”
She straightened indignantly. “I leg your bardon.”
He smiled before he laughed outright. “Drunk,” he clarified.
“I certainly am snot.”
He laughed again. Then he lifted his hand to beckon Jack. And as he did that, Kelly put her head down on the bar. Gonzo.
When Jack came back, he wore a perplexed look.
“It turns out Kelly’s been taking medication and probably shouldn’t have had a couple of power drinks,” Lief said. “She’s going to need a ride to her sister’s.”
Jack looked around. “Crap! The place is full!”
“I’ll be glad to give her a lift, Jack. I should get home anyway to see if Courtney has burned the place to the ground yet. You might want to call her sister and let her know she’s … ah … coming for a visit.” He laughed again. “And that she’s wasted.”
“What’s she taking?”
Lief shrugged. “Something for ‘prood blessure’ and ‘xiety.’“ Then he grinned. “I guess the girl’s not used to taking much prescription stuff—never crossed her mind. Just tell her sister.”
“What about her car?” Jack asked.
Lief shrugged. “Better parked here than on the road with her behind the wheel.”
“Right,” Jack said. Then Jack tapped her on the head. “Kelly?” he asked. “Kelly?”
“Hmm?”
“Um, Lief is going to drive you home. Okay?”
She lifted her head briefly. “Lief who?” Then she put her head down again.
“All right,” Jack said. “Here’s how to get there.” He grabbed a notepad near the register and scribbled out directions. “I’ll call Jillian and tell her you’re coming.”
Lief retrieved Kelly’s jacket. He sat her up, and she roused briefly as he helped her put her arms in. “I’m going to give you a lift to Jillian’s house, Kelly,” he said. “I think you just got too … tired.”
“Hmm. Thanks,” she replied.
He grabbed her purse and put the strap over his arm, making her giggle. Meeting Jack’s eyes, he said, “Put it on my tab. I’ll see you soon.”
“Drive carefully.”
With a strong arm around her waist, he stood her up and walked her out of the bar, but outside on the porch, her legs became noodles and he lifted her into his arms to take her down the steps.
“Wow, I don’t think anyone’s ever carried me,” she slurred. “Except maybe a paramedic—maybe he did.” She patted his chest. “You’re fun. I’m glad we met. What’s your name again?”
“Lief,” he said. “Lief Holbrook.”
“Very nice,” she said, laying her head on his chest.
He stood her up long enough to open the door to his truck. “I wish you’d try to help me get you into this truck, Kelly. It’s high. If you pull, I’ll push.”
“Shertainly,” she said, grabbing the inside.
Lief positioned her right foot on the running board,pushed her butt upward and landed her in the seat. She made a loud ooommmph when she was inside. “Good,” he said. “I shouldn’t have any trouble getting you out.”
Her head lolled against the seat all the way to Jillian’s, and she blubbered in a drunken, semiconscious state—she loved Luca. They took her away in an ambulance, yet not one person came to check on her! She was too embarrassed by how foolish she’d been to call her sister and confess everything that had happened to her.
Oh, man, he thought. A woman with almost as much baggage as me.
Courtney thought that sometimes Lief just didn’t get it.
She had all her beauty gear, for lack of a better word, spread out in her bathroom—mousse for the hair, eyeliner, lipstick. She was giving her short fingernails a once-over with the black polish.
Lief. She used to call him Dad. In fact, when he had married her mother and she was only eight, she had asked him if that would be all right—could she call him Dad? He’d said he would love that.
Of course that meant she had two of them, but since they were never in the same room at the same time, it wasn’t a great challenge. And she saw even less of her real dad after Lief and her mom married. She thought her real dad, Stu Lord, was relieved, and she knew the stepwitch was. Stu had been the first to remarry after her parents divorced; she’d been two. She had her visits with him and her stepmom, Sherry, whom she never offered to call Mom. Her dad and stepmom had a couple of kids together, boys. Aaron was born when Courtney was four, Conner when she was seven. Her visits with them became fewer and fewer.
Courtney didn’t mind that, her diminishing relationship with Stu. Stu and Sherry fought frequently, something that didn’t happen with her mom and Lief. And the little boys were wild brats who screamed, threw things, pulled her hair and messed with her stuff. She was happy with her mom and Lief. Her mom and dad.
Then, right at the end of the school year of her sixth grade, her mom died. Just died! Something they didn’t know she had exploded in her head when she was at work, and she went down, dead, never to come back. It hurt so bad, Courtney wanted to die with her.
Then there was a blur of shifting movements that she could barely remember, except that it always involved her suitcase, which seemed to stay packed. She went to live with Stu, where she didn’t even have her own bedroom. She stayed in the guest room unless Sherry’s mother visited and then she was shuttled to the toy room or family-room sofa. She visited Lief on at least a couple of weekends a month. Then, after six months of that, she went back to living with Lief and visiting
