Rusty spotted him immediately, spun in her seat, and beamed up at him like he was fucking Santa Claus. Instantly, all the pissed off, the fear he’d felt started to dissipate. “You’re here!”

“Told you I was coming, Foxy.” Her smile brightened. And fuck him, she was gorgeous even when she was shit-faced. “You ready to go home?”

“Yup.”

He looked over to Piper, who was talking animatedly into her phone. He got the feeling whoever was on the end of that drunk dial would have a treat to wake up to in the morning.

Deacon stood from his seat, wrapped his arm around Alex’s waist, who had a serious sway going on, and moved around the table toward him and Rusty.

Deacon held out his hand when he reached them. “Reid Parker, I take it?”

“Yeah.” Reid shook the guy’s hand. “Rusty’s told me a lot about you.”

Deacon held his gaze. “I understand you’ve been spending time with my sister?”

“She told you that?” He was about to get the third degree from Rusty’s big brother, and all he could think was that she’d told Deacon about him. For some reason that pleased him a hell of a lot.

“Is she wrong?”

“No.”

Alex chose that moment to bust out laughing at something Rusty said and reach for another drink. Deacon not so subtly drew her out of reach of the glass. She spun on him, scowling, and the guy laughed and kissed her.

When he turned back, he lost some of the attitude, or at least forgot about the grilling he’d planned for Reid, which would more than likely include uncomfortable questions about his intentions toward his little sister. Thank fuck for that.

The guy actually grinned. “Well, good luck with that. The three of them aren’t called the Axle Alley Vipers for nothing.”

Axle Alley Vipers?

“Rusty said you’re taking them home?” Deacon tilted his head to Rusty and Piper.

“Yeah.” Deacon looked unsure, conflicted over leaving his drunk sisters with a total stranger. “I’ll get them home safe.” That was the best he could do. He wasn’t used to dealing with concerned brothers or, shit, families for that matter.

The guy opened his mouth to say something more, but Alex grabbed Deacon’s arm and whispered urgently in his ear before slapping a hand over her mouth. The woman had turned green.

That was all it took. Deacon turned to him, eyes hard. “I’ll be checking they got home safe.” With that parting warning, he was on the move, leading Alex quickly from the club before she threw up on the dance floor.

The guy had a fun night ahead.

After some maneuvering, Reid rounded Rusty and Piper up and got them out to his car. Piper climbed in the back, curled up against the door, and fell instantly asleep. Rusty climbed in beside him, skirt hitched up around her hips, high enough he got a flash of bright yellow lace panties, and grinned over at him. “This car is bitchin’.”

“Bitchin’?” Jesus, she was also cute when she was drunk. And no one was cute when they were drunk. “Tell me if you feel sick, yeah? I’d rather you didn’t puke all over my bitchin’ car.”

She waved her hand in the air, dismissing his concern, and leaned forward to play with the stereo. She finally stopped on a rock station—then proceeded to sing her head off. The woman was beautiful, she had attitude, she was talented, had hidden depths—but she could not sing. Could not hold a single note. And he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face while he listened to her.

She massacred two more songs, then at the beginning of “Sweet Home Alabama,” her hand shot out, and she turned it off, then looked over at him. “Hey, why haven’t you asked me out?”

Surprisingly, he liked drunk Rusty. Drunk Rusty didn’t hold back a damned thing. “Me not asking you out? That have something to do with you and Piper deciding not to wait?” Whatever the hell that meant.

“No, that was about Cole.”

All humor fled, and he glanced over at her. “Cole?”

“Yup.”

“Who the fuck’s Cole?”

“Deacon’s friend.”

“And why does you getting shit-faced have something to do with this Cole?”

“It doesn’t.”

He was this close to banging his head against the steering wheel. “Rusty, who is Cole to you?”

“A friend…but Piper, she’s been mooning over the guy for years.”

Okay. He was finally getting somewhere. “So going out drinking, the ‘no more waiting,’ that was Piper’s idea?”

“Yeah. So why didn’t you ask me out?”

She was drunk, but apparently drinking didn’t affect her memory. “Was gonna do that tonight.”

“You were?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still going to?”

“When you sober up.”

“I’ve enjoyed our talks,” she said, shifting conversational gears, then gave him another one of those light-up-the-room smiles.

“Me, too, Foxy.”

“I like it when you call me foxy.”

Now he was back to smiling.

“Did you like talking to me?” she said, turning in her seat, curling her legs up underneath her.

“Of course.”

“Did you like talking to me…a lot?”

“Yeah, Rusty.”

“Like, a lot, a lot?”

“What are you getting at?”

She was blushing, he could see even in the dim light of the car, but she didn’t turn away, kept those beautiful eyes full of mischief and fire aimed at him. “The last time we talked, I thought…I thought that maybe you…” She bit her lip.

He knew she’d figured out what he was doing the last time they’d talked. Her voice had grown huskier, her breathing heavier. He’d wanted her to know. “What? You thought what?”

She wriggled in her seat. “Were you…touching yourself?”

“I was stroking my cock the whole time you talked to me. Your voice makes me so hard, my balls ache. So fucking hard I had no choice but to take my dick in my hand and get myself off while I listened to you. I finished before our phone call did.”

“Oh.” Her chest rose and fell faster now, and her smooth, bare thighs were squeezed tightly together. “You did that, just from my voice?”

“All I need when it comes to you.”

She looked down, licked her lower lip, then her eyes were on him again. “I like your voice, too.” He glanced over at her. “After you hung up…I…”

“You what, baby?” His cock throbbed behind his zipper, hard enough he could barely think straight, because he knew what she was going to say. And he needed to hear her say it more than he needed his next breath.

“I slid my hand down the front of my panties and…got myself off.”

“Yeah?” He swallowed hard. “You play with your clit?”

“Yes.”

“Did you come from just that, or did you push your fingers inside, imagine my cock moving inside you?”

“Yes.”

“Which is it, Foxy?”

“I used my fingers. I imagined you were inside me.”

Jesus fucking Christ. A groan slid past his lips, and he reached down to adjust his aching dick. “How many times you done that? Thinking about me?”

“A few,” she whispered.

“I love that, baby. I love that you told me that.”

He had to be a goddamned saint, because as much as he wanted her, he would not fuck her their first time while she was drunk….and he wanted her in a way that he had never wanted any other woman in his life.

But he didn’t get a chance to tell her, because when he turned her way again, she was out cold.

Chapter Eight

A loud, incessant buzzing sound came from down the hall. Rusty rolled to her back, letting out a groan when the movement had her stomach rolling. The buzz was cut off abruptly by a crash and a string of curses.

Piper was awake.

God, Rusty wished she weren’t.

Head thumping, she glanced down at herself. I managed to change into a T-shirt. That had to be some kind of miracle considering the state she’d been in.

How had they gotten so drunk? Then she remembered her and Piper’s never-ending rounds of tequila shots. “Idiots.”