ONE DRINK TURNED into four and rum runners contained quite a bit of alcohol, he discovered. While he wanted her to loosen up, it had not been his intention for her to become drunk. Morgan was afraid he was going to pay for this night somehow and it was going to be costly.
As the night progressed, Jacqui grew louder, drawing the attention of those around them. And touchier. The touchier part he didn’t mind so much, but it would have been better had she been sober. Morgan Brewer did not take advantage of women who were not in control of their decisions.
She was winning at the slots more than she was losing and kept repeating to him that she was keeping the money. He didn’t care. He tried to get her to stop drinking when she ordered her fourth rum runner, but she made a scene about being a big girl and he wasn’t her daddy. Then, she wrapped her arms around his neck and asked him if he wanted to be her daddy. He growled at how bad he was fighting the urge to forget his rules and take her right then. If Neal only knew what it was costing him to be the good one right then.
“I think we should be calling it a night,” he told her as she slurped the remainder of her drink through the straw, obviously hoping more would magically appear.
She looked up at him with that pout. “But you wanted to celebrate. Aren’t we still winning?”
“We need to leave some for other people to win, don’t we? We can’t be greedy and keep it to ourselves.” He hit the cash out button and pulled the paper receipt from the machine. He stood, hoping she would follow suit. When she did, however, he realized she wasn’t going to make it out on her own power. She swayed, her arm bracing her up as she held onto one of the slot machines. “Okay, let’s get your prize money and then we can get you home.” And how in the hell am I going to do that? Sheesh this was a very bad idea. Maybe this is why she doesn’t drink. She’s a major lightweight. Of course, four rum runners is not a light weight.
He managed to get her to the cashier, his hand around her waist while her arm was draped uselessly across his shoulders, where he cashed her out. The lady behind the counter didn’t pay much attention to Jacqui’s condition. Apparently, drunks were standard fare in the casino. He slipped the money into Jacqui’s purse and then escorted her to the valet. She tried to walk on her own, but her attempts only made them both stumble.
Reaching the valet, he handed over the ticket stub and begged the man to hurry.
“Is he getting my car?”
“No, he’s getting my truck. I drove us here, remember?” Thank god.
She tried to straighten herself up with a serious look—or what was supposed to be a serious look—on her face. “I am not going to give you my address. I know what type of man you are, Mr. Morgan Brewer, and I am not that type of lady.”
Nope, you’re the type of lady who just asked me to be your daddy. Morgan rolled his eyes. “I was at your house earlier, remember. I know where you live.”
The young kid couldn’t help but smile at Morgan’s predicament as he rushed off to fetch the truck. His eyebrows, however, were raised as if wondering if Morgan was going to be the type of man his lady friend thought he was.
As soon as his truck arrived, he slid Jacqui into the passenger seat, praying she wasn’t going to throw up on the way home. Her night at the casino was probably the most fun she had since—well, since birth, he imagined. As he drove through the town, Jacqui fell against the passenger’s door and mumbled to herself about lesson’s learned. She was going to be so sick in the morning. He just hoped she waited until the morning. Perhaps he should have asked for some sort of bag before he left the casino, something to protect his truck in case she did lose tonight’s dinner. She moaned louder, causing him to glance over at her. “Are you okay?”
“No, I don’t want to drink. Bad things happen when I drink.”
Her words were barely a whisper, but they sounded loud inside the car. He had no idea what she was referring to and was afraid to ask. Perhaps Mrs. Karston was a wild child after a few drinks. He wasn’t sure what it was that had made her stop drinking, but suddenly he felt horrible for pushing her to start again.
As he hit the ramp off Highway 90 to I-110, Jacqui leaned her head against the passenger door, her eyes closed and her breathing turned shallow. While he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to wake her up once they arrived at her house, he was glad she’d be out for the ride over. With his left hand on the steering wheel, he reached over with his right hand and took her fingers into his tender grip. Her skin was warm to his touch.
A small sense of worry touched him as he thought of how far Jacqui had come in the past couple of days and especially that evening. He hoped that getting drunk at a casino wasn’t going to revert her back to her former coldness. He had become used to their growing closer. He didn’t want the distance between them to return.
Morgan pulled into the circular driveway in front of Jacqui’s house. All the lights inside seemed to be on just as they were when they had left. Glancing at his watch as he turned the engine off, he noticed it was a quarter past midnight. If Dustin was still awake, Jeannie was going to kill him. It was time to talk to his son about having some father-son secrets.
He took a deep breath as he glanced over at Jacqui. She still had not moved. This is going to be great. Opening his truck door, he stepped out into the chilly evening, bracing himself for what was to come. He opened her door, ready to catch her in case she didn’t wake up. Luckily, she shifted when the door opened, leaning in the other direction. He unbuckled her seatbelt before attempting to wake her up. “Jacqui, we’re here, There’s a nice comfy bed right inside waiting for you.”
“I knew you just wanted to get me into bed.” She tried hitting his chest, but it was barely a brush of her fingers. “You never fooled me.”
“Not tonight, sweetheart. Tonight, I’ll be happy if you can just walk to the front door.”
Swinging her legs out, she puffed her chest up as if she had been challenged. “Why wouldn’t I be able to walk to my own door? What are you implying, Mr. Brewer?”
“Oh, nothing. Not implying a thing. Are you ready to give it a shot?”
“You…you just watch me.” She stood straight up—and then fell back into the seat. “Just give me a moment for the driveway to slow down.”
“Uh huh.” He slid his arm around her waist while draping her arm over his neck. “Here we go.”
If Morgan had not had his arm around her, she would have fallen right into the white Bird of Paradise along her drive. As it was, he had to keep her heading forward in the direction of the door and not lying down in her front yard.
Once he reached her front door, he fumbled with her keys until he finally found the one that opened the front door and quickly helped Jacqui inside of her own house. “What did you do to my daughter?” Bert was poised in the living room, sitting in his wheelchair, a purple afghan draped over his legs.
“I didn’t do anything to your daughter. rum runners did this to her.”
Jacqui mumbled something no one understood and then laid her head on Morgan’s shoulder.
“I tried to get her to stop, but you know Jacqui. She took it as a challenge. Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me where to lay her down, I’d be more than happy to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.” Jacqui started to slide down his body and he had to pull her back up with both arms. “Or anyone else, namely me.”
The old man stared a bit more, shaking his head at his daughter’s plight. “She is not going to be happy in the morning.”
Morgan nodded. “I understand that. However, I’d appreciate it if you would be quicker in your decision. She isn’t as light as she looks.”
Bert chuckled as he wheeled his chair to the right. “No, I guess she’s not. Follow me. And tell me how you got her to drink. She hasn’t touched alcohol in two years.”
“All I did was talk her into one. The rum runners talked her into each one thereafter. Is Sophia here to help you with her when she wakes? I’m guessing it’s going to be a rough morning.”
“Hmph. Rougher than you realize, but she’ll manage. She’s been through worse. Sophia is sleeping now. I’ll do what I can till then.” Her father wheeled himself into the second door on the right of a hallway he had turned down and moved off to the side. “Just lay her there on the bed and I’ll sit with her a while to make sure she’s okay before going to bed. My room is close, so I’ll hear her if she gets sick or has nightmares.”
Morgan looked over at the man as he put Jacqui under the covers, pulling her heels off before pulling the thick quilt up to her chest. “Nightmares?”
The older man looked at Morgan, his eyes sad. “We all have our demons.”
“She doesn’t sleep in the master bedroom?”
Bert gave a shake of his head as he watched Jacqui pull the covers up to her shoulders as she rolled over on her side. “Not since Marc died. Hell, tonight was the first time she’s stepped foot on the back porch in two years.”
Morgan suddenly felt as if he had pushed Jacqui into something best left alone, as if alcohol didn’t make her clothes fall off as much as her regrets surface. “Look, if I did something that should have been left alone, I didn’t mean to.”
Jacqui’s father was still looking at his daughter, already anticipating what she would be going through when she woke up. “She’s a big girl, and you didn’t know any better, I’m sure. Don’t worry,” he said, looking back up. “She’ll be fine.” He then turned his chair around and started wheeling back down the hallway.
Morgan stared at Jacqui a moment longer, hoping he hadn’t caused her more pain. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Walking over to the bed, he leaned down and, after brushing the hair away from her face, kissed her forehead. Gazing at her closed eyes, he didn’t want to leave. Instead, he wanted to crawl into that bed beside her and cradle her sleeping form to his chest, keeping the nightmares Bert had mentioned at bay. He wanted Jacqui to put her pain behind her and move on with her life. She seemed ready, but if Bert’s demeanor was any indication, he may have pushed her too far. He didn’t think he could forgive himself if that was the case.
He leaned down and gave her one more kiss, this time on the cheek. “Good night, Mrs. Karston,” he whispered. He backed out of the room, giving her one more glance from the doorway before closing the door behind him.
As he left the hallway, Morgan peeked at Dustin, who was asleep on the couch, covered up with a flowery afghan. Seeing that his son was okay, he went in search of Bert. He found the older man in the kitchen, staring at a cup of cold milk in his hands. He didn’t look up as he started speaking. “She was pretty drunk the night before the plane crash that killed her family. It was supposed to be a family trip, but when she woke up, her hangover was killing her. She spent the entire night throwing up and her stomach was a whirlpool of nausea. She skipped the trip, sending Marc and Maggie by themselves. She didn’t want Maggie to be denied her trip out on a plane just because she was stupid enough to drink too much.” He looked up and Morgan saw the pain in his eyes, the pain of a father who couldn’t take care of his daughter. “When the plane crashed, killing both of them, she never forgave herself. Everything about her changed. Her zest for life. The way she carried herself. Her viewpoints. Everything. People, such as Sophia, Lily, and Brent stuck it out with her. Others, like Vince, got burned in her self-destruction. She never slept in the same bed again. Never stepped out on that porch. She barely ever smiled. Until now. Until you.”
Morgan slid down into one of the kitchen chairs. “Hopefully, I didn’t just fuck it all up.”
Bert shook his head. “You didn’t. You’re the one getting through to her. Don’t give up. I’ll be here in the morning and I’ll make sure she gets through tonight’s drunk. She’ll see that she can have fun and the world won’t explode around her. She needs that.”
Morgan glanced back down the hallway. He knew Bert was right. She did need that. He just hoped he could be the one to give it to her.