Talk Me Down. Victoria Dahl

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      BEN NODDED AT THE giggling pair of tipsy women. “I think I’d better offer you ladies a ride home,” he said as if he were just polite and not a police officer.

      Molly waved him away. “Oh, I walked.”

      “Then I definitely insist.”

      “What, you think you’d find me ass-up in a snowbank tomorrow morning?”

      “Not enough snow yet,” Ben answered and steered her out the door. To her credit, she managed to walk without weaving.

      Lori followed behind, giggling. “I’m only two lots down, Ben. I’ll be fine.”

      “I’ll feel better if I drive you.”

      “Yeah,” Molly added. “And it’ll give everyone something to talk about if we all leave together. Lori’s totally hot for me, Ben. She’s on me like…something. And we might let you watch if you ask real nice.”

      Jesus. Not the image or the gossip he needed.

      “Deal,” Ben said. “Let’s go to my place.” That shut her mouth quick. Lori collapsed against his back, shaking with laughter, and he couldn’t help but smile. “All right, ladies. Let’s see if we can get you home before you embarrass yourselves.” That only sent them into another fit of laughter. “Nobody’s gonna throw up, right?”

      “I only had three drinks!” Molly protested, but when Ben stopped to open the passenger door of his truck, he shot her a quelling look.

      “All right, four, but that was over two full hours.”

      “So you’re just naturally hilarious?”

      “Yes! Didn’t you know that?”

      He had, actually, and he’d also known she was cute as hell before she’d shown up in her black boots and tights and tiny black miniskirt. Then there was the snug pink turtleneck. Pink, pink, pink. It was his new favorite color.

      “Lori, you need help?”

      “I’ve got it,” she called as she crawled into the backseat. Ben didn’t bother asking her to buckle. She really was only about a hundred feet from home.

      Molly started to climb up, pulling herself in slow motion, so what could he do but wrap his hands around her waist to hoist her in? The sweater was thin, her skin hot beneath, and Ben had an almost irresistible urge to follow her up, stretch her out on the wide front seat and cover her up with his body.

      Then again, all the computer equipment in the middle might put a damper on things. Not exactly satin sheets and feather pillows.

      “Ben?” she breathed, as if she wouldn’t mind having a keyboard pressed into her back at all.

      “Mmm?”

      Her eyes were wide in the dark, her face turned up to his. She licked her lips, calling all his attention to her mouth, his favorite shade of his new favorite color…and then she collapsed into laughter.

      Right. The drunk-off-her-ass part had escaped his mind for a moment.

      “Let’s go, Chief,” Lori called from the back, reminding him there was also a friend-in-the-backseat part of the evening. Then there was the possible-illegal-sex-trade complication.

      “Okay,” he breathed and stepped far out of the way before he shut the door on Molly and her many shades of pink. He’d only had two beers tonight; he was fine to drive, but apparently not fine to press his hand into the hot curve of her waist.

      Ben tried to convince himself he wasn’t half-hard in the middle of Main Street as he rounded the truck and slid in behind the seat.

      Lori waved her hand from the back as he started the engine and jacked up the heat. “Ben, do you think I’m a lesbian?”

      “Um…” A glance in the mirror showed nothing but her upraised wrist and limp fingers. “No, I hadn’t really…Why? Are you trying to, uh, find yourself or…?”

      “I just want a decent date!” she wailed. “And not with some Ricky Nowell!”

      “Mmm-hmm.” He’d found over the years that it was best to simply feign understanding with drunk people.

      “If the opportunity ever arises, would you send a nice guy my way? I just want to go out to a movie, you know? Maybe get a little some-some. Is that so wrong?”

      “Of course not.”

      Molly was shaking her head in very serious sympathy. “I was just kidding about getting it on in front of you, Ben.”

      “Yeah, I got that.”

      “Lori’s not really a lesbian.”

      “I’m getting that, too. And here we are!”

      Lori popped up from the seat, and her forehead made a slow beeline for Ben’s headrest.

      “Ow.”

      That settled Ben’s question about whether she needed to be walked to her door. He ended up walking her all the way to the couch. By the time he returned to the truck, Molly was curled up with her cheek pressed against the seat back and her feet tucked СКАЧАТЬ