“Well, she’s made it two hours without calling me to ask a question that Finley can answer herself, so I guess that’s improvement. At least she’s with Vivian, so I don’t have to worry about the fact that my daughter’s mother knows jack and shit about her kid.” I rubbed the condensation from my glass and wondered for the fiftieth time where Morgan had hidden herself away.
She wasn’t at home. The minute I’d dropped Fin off for her first “weekend with Mom,” I’d headed straight to Morgan’s. I hadn’t even parked in my own driveway. Not that it mattered. Morgan and Sam weren’t there.
Sawyer sent Garrett a beseeching look, and Garrett sighed in response. Guess he drew the short straw. “So…is she here to stay? Claire?” he asked, peeling the label off a bottle he hadn’t taken a sip from.
“She says she is, but hell if I know. That woman’s mind changes with the weather, and usually I don’t care, but she’s told Finley she’s staying, and that means I’ll have a broken-hearted five-year-old when something bigger and better comes along.” Hence why I wasn’t drinking. For all I knew, Claire would call in an hour and say she changed her mind and Finley needed to come home.
“And…are you two together?” Sawyer asked, taking a cue from Garrett.
“Hell no. Never again.” Did seeing her fuck with my head a little? Sure. Was I remotely interested in rekindling something that had died so thoroughly it would need life support and a miracle? Not in the least.
“Okay…” Garrett narrowed his eyes at Sawyer and then huffed. “So that means you and Morgan?”
“What is it with the questions?” I shot both my best friends a glare.
“We’re trying to be supportive,” Sawyer said with a shrug, then winked at a girl across the bar.
“Well, stop. You’re just making it really fucking weird.” My cell phone vibrated, and I lifted my ass off the barstool just enough to slide it out of my back pocket. Morgan. I fumbled for the answer button, which earned me a WTF look from Garrett, but I managed to swipe it across without making too much of an ass out of myself. “Morgan?”
“No, it’s Sam!” she shouted over the background noise.
“Sam? Is Morgan okay?” My brow puckered.
“Define okay,” she answered.
“Is she hurt?”
“No, nothing like that, but I think I might need your help.” There was a muffled scrape, like she had put her hand over the mic. “Mia! Don’t encourage her!” The background noise swamped the call again. “Sorry. Look, I swore I would never call a guy to help me pull a friend off a bar—”
“What?” I snapped. Both Garrett and Sawyer’s heads twisted my way, then Garrett asked for the tab. Morgan was on a bar?
“Do you think you can get to Avon? I think you might be the only one she’ll listen to, or the only one who can muscle her down at this point, anyway.”
“Tell me where you are. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Fourteen minutes later, I parked my car, killed the engine, and took the front stairs two at a time, flanked by Garrett and Sawyer.
“Jesus, who trucked in the frat guys?” Garrett asked. The college crowd had filled the bar, consuming the long, wooden counter that ran the length of the space and overflowing to the pool table area.
“Jax!” Sam called out from the right side of the bar.
I nodded, then pushed my way through the crowd. “Where is she?”
“With Mia.” Sam glared up at me and jabbed her finger in my chest. “One thing first. I really need you to stop fucking with her, Jax. She hasn’t had a drink since I can’t even remember when, and after one conversation with you, the girl is three martinis down and sitting on the damn bar like she’s holding court.”
Shit. How bad was she?
“I had no clue Claire was going to show up like that, and when she did, Morgan wasn’t speaking to me. What did you want me to do? Write it in a note and slip it under the door?” I shot back.
“You could have hired a skywriter for all I care. I don’t give a shit how you relay the information, just that you do, because honestly, you’re not my priority—she is. You let her walk straight into another shitstorm you created, after I’d spent all damned week trying to clean up your last one.”
Sawyer slid to my side and grinned at Sam. “I think I’m in love. Did you hear the way she just ripped into Montgomery?” he asked Garrett.
“Yes, because we’re both standing right here, you moron.” Garrett shook his head.
Sam arched an eyebrow at Sawyer. “Let me guess. Cocky, good-looking, and hanging out with this guy…you’re another pilot, too, right?”
“Yep.” Sawyer’s grin got even bigger.
“And you?” She turned her gaze on Garrett.
“Rescue swimmer. Flying is for the boys too scared to get wet.”
“And you are?” Sawyer asked.
“Married,” she replied, flashing her ring. “Now if you’re done?”
“My bad.” Sawyer’s hands went up as the jukebox changed to “Sweet Home Alabama.”
A flash of red caught my eye, and I leaned around the corner enough to see Morgan swaying with Mia, sitting on the bar in the middle of a horde of guys.
I sucked in a breath. It was no wonder she was surrounded. Damn, she was gorgeous. Her sleeveless, red top was cut low and tied just above the waist of an impossibly short jean skirt. I wasn’t even sure I’d call the thing a skirt, honestly, since it revealed so much of those long legs. Her cowboy boots swung slightly as she sang along to Lynyrd Skynyrd, her arms loose in the air as she and Mia belted out the chorus.
She wasn’t drinking—she was drunk.
“She’s had three martinis?” I asked Sam as I planned my best route for attack.
“Yeah…” She cringed.
That was a good amount of alcohol, but it wouldn’t explain her sloppy motions as she brushed her hair out of her face.
I glanced from Sam to Morgan and back again before it hit me. “Oh fuck, is she on anti-anxiety meds?”
Sam nodded. “Daily. She’s not supposed to drink, but I figured she deserved a glass of wine after the shit you put her through today. I guess Morgan thought she deserved something a little stronger.”
“Damn, who’s that girl next to Morgan?” Sawyer asked.
Sam snapped her finger in his face. “No.” She moved it toward Garrett. “Not you, either. Last thing I need is my husband getting home from deployment and going straight to jail for murder.”
“Noted,” Sawyer replied, already scanning the crowd for his next conquest.
“I wasn’t even looking,” Garrett swore.
When the guys around Morgan urged her to dance on the bar top, I decided it was time to move.
I waded through a sea of Axe body spray with Garrett and Sawyer at my back. Living here for the last five years had taught me that the only thing lacking more than inhibitions with celebrating tourists was their common sense.
“Get out of my way,” I growled at the polo-wearing pretty boy who was inching his hand toward Morgan’s thigh.
The guy shot me a glare but took one look at my face, hopefully seeing the promised murder in my eyes, then glanced back at Sawyer and Garrett, and moved. “All yours,” he mumbled, staggering away. Was I ever that young and stupid?
“Mr. Carolina!” Mia waved as I put myself between the women.
“Well, if it isn’t the reason I’m drinking!” Morgan greeted me with a sweet tone and an equally sweet, fake-ass smile. “Did you come all the way over here to help me pick out a guy to go home with? There have been quite a few propositions for being so early in the evening.”
“I’ve counted four so far,” Mia added.
“The only guy taking you home is me.” My gut twisted at the thought of any other possibility.
“Really? Claire didn’t seem like the kind of w
oman who’d be up for sharing. You should probably ask her first.” Her smirk lit a fire in my belly.
What had she said about the “old” version of her having a sharp tongue?
I smothered my temper, counted to three, then gripped her hips and hauled her from the bar to the stool polo-shirt boy had vacated.
“Oomph!” she grunted, bouncing slightly as she landed. “Who made you the resident party pooper?” She tilted her head back and looked up at me with glazed eyes.
“Sam was worried. And apparently for good reason. You’re hammered.” The harsh tone was at odds with the gentle touch as I tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Sam?” Morgan’s eyes widened, and her head swiveled to see her friend on the other side of the stool.
“Girl, you need to go home, alone, and you weren’t listening, so I called in reinforcements.” She shrugged unapologetically.
Morgan’s finger rose slowly, pointing at Sam. “You, of all people, called a boy to get me off a bar?”
“Man,” I corrected.
Sam rolled her eyes. “This is not the same.”
“Traitor. At least you had Will to blame for calling Jagger and Grayson on you.”
Holy shit, she’d dropped his name in a casual conversation. Was that progress or alcohol talking?
Morgan reached for the rest of her martini, but I beat her to it.
“And that’s enough of that.” I gave the glass back to the bartender.
“For the love of God, could y’all untwist your panties? I can have a drink. I’m legal and everything. Wanna see my ID?”
“You’re also mixing alcohol with your meds,” I said quietly, leaning down so only she could hear me. “One amplifies the other. It’s why you feel so drunk.”
“Darlin’, maybe I should have done this a long time ago,” she retorted, turning her face so our lips were an inch apart, if that. “It’s a miraculous painkiller.”
“It’ll hurt plenty in the morning,” I promised.
“What would you care? No doubt you’ll be cuddled up with your ex.” She arched a brow at me and leaned in but lost her balance.
Enough.
“Morgan, I’m not with Claire. She showed up the same night we went to the lighthouse. I had no clue she was coming, and I meant it when I said that it changes nothing between us because I. Want. You.” I steadied her waist as she gripped my search and rescue tee. Fuck, her skin was so incredibly soft under my fingers.
A wicked grin spread across her face, and she skimmed my jaw with her lips. “Do you, now?”
Every muscle in my body tightened, but I found the strength to pull back. “In every way possible. When you’re sober.”
She huffed and nodded loosely at the crowd of college kids. “That guy didn’t care if I was sober.”
Ouch.
“That guy is an asshole,” I ground out, reminding myself to thank Sam for calling me. Morgan would have beaten the shit out of herself for going home with a stranger, and then I probably would have beaten the shit out of the stranger for taking advantage of her.
“I just wanted to be numb for a minute,” she drawled softly.
“Yeah, I can imagine you did.” I sure as hell didn’t blame her. I would have been drunk every day of my life if I’d been through what she had. “Why don’t you let me take you home, Kitty? Any decisions you make when you’re this wasted will be the kind you regret in the morning.”
She blinked away a slight sheen of tears, dropping her gaze to her hands as she smoothed them over my chest. “We’re too complicated. It’s just one thing after another with you. I can’t get my feet under me before you knock them out.”
“I’m the only complicated one in this relationship?”
Her gaze flew back to mine, but she didn’t debate my choice of terminology.
“I have a dead quasi-boyfriend who I loved way more than he ever liked me. You have a helicopter that’s just waiting to kill you and an inhumanly beautiful baby mama who’s so desperate to mark her territory that I half expected her to pee on you this afternoon.”
I stifled the laugh that tried to escape and cradled her face with one hand. “I have a helicopter that I’m damned good at flying and a heart-stoppingly gorgeous Morgan who I would really like to put to bed.”
“But not take to bed. I seem to have that effect on the guys I actually like.” She leaned into my palm.
What the hell had her quasi-ex put her through to make her think that?
I lowered my forehead to hers. “Don’t get me wrong, Kitty. I want to take you to bed. I would fucking kill to take you to bed. I’ve fantasized about getting my hands on you since the moment we met, but the first time you scream my name, the only thing in your system will be me. I’m not about to be one of your regrets when I have the option to be your choice. Get it? I’m not trading the possibility of an entire future with you for a couple orgasms on a single night—no matter how fucking edible you look right now.”
She blinked. “Okay, that was good.”
“I know.” I grinned.
“Are you taking anyone else to bed?” Her eyes narrowed.
“What? No. I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since you moved in.” Was that what this was about? Claire’s timing was utter shit as usual.
“So we’re exclusive? Even though we’re not together?” Her hands slid up my shirt to rest around my neck.
“There’s no one else. Just you,” I promised.
“Okay.” Her eyes softened. “Take me home.” She stumbled off the barstool, and I hooked my arm around her waist, hauling her to my side.
“Well, since you asked so nicely.”
Sam immediately took Morgan’s stool, demanding the tab from the bartender.
Mia hopped down from the bar and grinned at Garrett. “Hi.”
“I’ve been warned about your brother,” he replied, putting his hands up.
She rolled her eyes. “The guy is half a world away and still keeps me from getting laid. Unbelievable.”
When Morgan stumbled again, I lifted her into my arms, careful to make sure her skirt covered her ass as I carried her from the bar. I tucked her into my passenger seat, then clipped the belt in place as Mia got into Sam’s car under Garrett’s supervision a few spots down.
“Jackson?” Morgan tugged at my hand.
“Yes?” I leaned back into the car.
She locked onto the back of my neck and kissed me. Her tongue slid between my lips, and I opened on pure instinct.
Fuck, she tasted like a raspberry lemon drop, citrus and berry and the sweet burn of alcohol. I licked into her mouth, then took her deep, my fingers tunneling into her hair as she moaned. It was just as electric as the first kiss—I hadn’t blown it out of proportion or romanticized it. She lit my blood on fire.
I kissed her breathless and then did it again. I fell into her so deep that I knew this thing between us would only go one of two ways—we’d end up together, or we’d destroy each other in the process of trying.
Groaning, I pulled back, breaking the kiss. “God, Morgan.”
“Thank you.” She let go of my neck.
“For what?”
“For coming to get me.” She gave me an embarrassed smile.
“Anytime.” I closed her door and turned around to see Garrett, Sam, and Sawyer leaning against her car.
“You about done over there? Because my car’s at your place.” Sawyer smirked.
“Yeah, yeah.” I motioned him over, and we all filed into the cars.
Morgan was asleep by the time we got to her house. I parked in her driveway, then carefully lifted her into my arms after sending Sawyer and Garrett on their ways. Her head rolled against my chest, and she mumbled something about sleep and burrowed closer.
“I’ve got you,” I said softly.
“I�
��ll get the door,” Sam said, rushing ahead to open the front door for me.
I carried Morgan up the stairs, into the house, and then up another set of stairs to the master bedroom. I’d only been here a few times when Diane and Carl had owned the place, and it looked entirely different now. Morgan had painted the room pale blue, contrasting with her white furniture. The result wasn’t overly feminine but clean and minimalist.
I put her on the queen-size bed and started on her boots.
“I’ll get her changed,” Sam said from the doorway.
“Don’t go, Jackson!” Morgan demanded, kicking her boots off the rest of the way.
This is a bad idea, Montgomery.
“I’ll wait outside,” I told Sam, then retreated to the relative safety of the hallway, where I counted my breaths and planned an escape that didn’t include crawling into bed with the woman who’d had me hard for two months—no matter how badly I wanted to.
The door opened a few minutes later, and Sam came out, leveling me with a skeptical glare.
“She’s safe with me,” I promised.
“Oh, I know she is. Because my in-laws own a lot of sailboats, and the ocean is a fantastic place to hide a body.” She stared at me unflinchingly.
“You are a great friend, Sam.”
“I know that, too. Which is why I’m telling you that Morgan took me in when I had nowhere else to go. No questions asked. That’s what she does for the people she loves. The girl is selfless to a fault, and I’ll be damned if I slip on my watch and let her get hurt. You understand?” She stood in the doorway with crossed arms.
“I understand.” Warning received.
She sighed, then stepped aside. “Don’t do anything that will make me hide your body. You look way too heavy for me to handle solo.”
“Noted.” I nodded as I walked past her into Morgan’s room.
The bedside table light was on, and Morgan lay curled on her side, facing the door.
“Will you stay with me?” she asked. “Please?”
“That’s not a good idea.” I sat on the edge of her bed and kept my hands on top of the covers.
“I didn’t say it was a good idea,” she countered sleepily. “I asked if you’d stay. Just until I fall asleep? Please?”
The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory) Page 20