Chapter 2 #2
I may be drunk, but I am not blind, and that man does not want her to be touching him right now—something I suspect her husband that’s on the other side of the bar would agree with. A giggle escapes before I can hold it in, and they both look up at me.
“Is something funny up there, Whiz Kid?” Liam asks as Cheryl rolls her eyes at the nickname, which apparently refers to me.
I’ve never had a nickname before.
That’s nice.
I wave my hand dismissively. “No, no, not funny ha-ha, but maybe funny like ironic. I’m up here drunk for the first time, well, ever, and even up here inebriated, I can still see that Mr. Callahan does not want your hands on him.
You kind of miss the obvious, especially for a detective.
” I clamp a hand over my mouth as my face burns with embarrassment.
“Oh my goodness gracious, Cheryl, I’m so sorry. That was uncalled for.”
Cheryl’s cheerful demeanor immediately transforms to a bitter and angry woman. “I don’t know, I think out of the three of us, only one of us is dancing on the bar like an entitled college student. Maybe you should go home so you don’t miss curfew.”
“Oh, that’s like an insult, right? Because I’m young and you’re much older.”
“Much?!” Cheryl squawks, and now I can’t help but imagine her as a disgruntled pelican.
The giggles hit me hard and fast, but before I can fully fall off the bar, Liam has my hands in his and is helping me down.
“Listen here, you may be impressive back wherever you came from, but this is Texas, and you aren’t shit here. ”
I shrug, not entirely sure why she’s so mad at me. “I thought we were celebrating getting the bad guys and helping those victims, no?” I squint, trying to focus on Cheryl’s face, but now there are two of them, and they both look blurry.
Huh. How many of those drinks did I have? I lost count after three…
I huff at a strand of hair that fell from my ponytail at some point when I was up there—I was dancing on a bar! Aisha is going to be so proud of me for having fun. She was very clear with her expectations when I sent her a photo of my cute outfit tonight.
“Detective, it’s been eye-opening, and I’ll be sure to call Chuck and let him know all about this. Dr. Lane, I think it’s time we head out of here.” Liam glares like little laser beams could shoot from his eyes as he firmly guides me away from Cheryl.
“I have to pay my bill tab with the guy!” I try to spin out of Liam’s grip, but he steers me to the exit.
“Don’t worry, Whiz Kid, I already took care of it.”
“Of course, you did, likely to expedite you getting her into your bed,” Cheryl calls out after us, and Liam freezes. He takes a deep breath through his nose before turning but not walking back to where Cheryl is sitting at the bar surrounded by her colleagues.
“Did you know that I have younger sisters, Detective? And I couldn’t help but imagine what if one of my sweet sisters had been hoodwinked by someone they thought they could trust, and they found themselves in a precarious and dangerous situation well out of their depth?
” Liam shakes his head slowly as he continues, “I really didn’t like that possibility, Detective.
” He spits her title out like a curse. “And I hope that—God forbid, that were ever to happen—someone would step in and do the right thing. You should be ashamed of yourself. I hope that making a spectacle out of the person that helped us wrap up this operation was worth it to you. Personally, I think you should be a little more grateful and respectful for what she helped us all accomplish today.” Liam makes eye contact with the few colleagues with the balls to look at him as Cheryl looks down at the floor, properly chastised.
Balls. That’s a funny word. I cover my mouth as a giggle tries to escape.
“Something funny, Dr. Lane?” Liam asks quietly.
“Balls!” I can’t help the giggles now. All hope is lost.
Lost to balls.
Liam leads me out of the bar, grabbing my elbow when I trip on the threshold and guiding me down the street.
We start the short walk to the hotel. Or at least, I assume it was short, because the next thing I know, I’m sweating and waking up to someone pounding on my hotel door as the sunlight threatens to split my head right open.
When did light gain the ability to cause physical pain?
Knock, knock, knock.
Whoever is at the door is not taking the hint, and I gingerly roll out of bed, just as my stomach lurches.
I may never drink again.
I don’t think I’m allergic to alcohol, but I believe it hates my body.
Taking a slow, deep inhale through my nose, I’m able to compose myself enough to make it to the peephole where I see my knight from the previous evening. “Open up, Whiz Kid.”
I grumble and reach over to my spilled purse and grab my sunglasses. Oh, that helps so much. “Coming!” I call out as I try to unlock the door.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Liam grins, holding a tray of coffees and a bag of food.
“What are you doing here? I mean, I appreciate last night, but I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough.
Wait … is that food?” He nods, and I let him into my room, grabbing the bag and hoping it’s something greasy inside.
I have no scientific reasoning to believe it will help, but I’ve read about it enough in novels, and it always seems to help characters.
And right now, I’d try anything.
“You mentioned your flight leaves early this afternoon, so I didn’t think hair of the dog was the best route, but greasy food always helps with a hangover.” He reaches into the bag in my hands and pulls out two wrapped sandwiches. “Nice shades, by the way. Ham or bacon?”
“Ham, please.” I should be mortified, but apparently, my brain is still hazy from being exceptionally drunk last night. I collapse back on the bed and take a bite, which seems to actually help my gurgling stomach. “Thank you, thank you so much.”