I blinked up at him, beyond confused right now. I had a feeling I would’ve felt the same even without all the gin. “Going where?”
“The airport.”
I laughed. Obviously. “That’s absurd. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. I have a jet,” he said as I stumbled after him, both of us very clearly past the point of coordination. “A really fast one. We’ll go to France and steal your dog back.”
I burst out laughing again, so hard that it made it impossible to stand up straight, which was unfortunate because I was currently trying to do exactly that. We swayed together,a complete mess as I gripped his arm while he attempted, unsuccessfully, to hold me steady.
“I can’t…” I tried again, dissolving into laughter when we bumped into each other.
I was vaguely aware that people were staring, but I didn’t care.
“She’s laughing,” Jesse announced to absolutely no one, like my laughter was proof of something. “She’s in. We’re doing it.”
“We are not doing it,” I managed, even as I clung to him for balance.
“Is he a big guy?” he asked suddenly.
“Who?” I frowned. “Hubert? He’s probably sixty pounds?—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head and widening his eyes. “Your ex. Can he fight?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied after a moment. “He’s an academic.”
Jesse’s grin was immediate. “That’s great news for me. Although I do love a good tussle.”
The next thing I knew, there was sunlight shining directly in my eyes. I groaned, squeezing them shut as my brain struggled to catch up. It felt like I’d blinked and last night had simply disappeared.
We’d gone from dim lighting, laughter, and terrible ideas straight into morning. My head throbbed. Actually, it was worse than that. It was pounding like someone had set up a construction site inside my skull and decided to get an early start.
I tried shifting to get the sun out of my eyes, and then I realized that I couldn’t move. Something heavy was pinning me in place. I frowned, forcing my eyes open through the haze and squinting down with slow, painful effort.
Oh. Oh, no.
Jesse Westwood was draped over me like we’d stumbled into my apartment, tripped, and collapsed onto the couch in a heap before promptly passing out. On the other hand, that might’ve been exactly what’d happened.
I let him lie there for only one more second before I shoved him. Hard.
“Get off,” I croaked.
He jolted awake immediately, pushing himself up with a disoriented grunt, his hair even more tousled than usual and his expression a perfect mirror of my own confusion.
“What happened?” he started, blinking rapidly, his eyes watery and red-rimmed even though they were only open to slits. “Are we in France?”
“My apartment,” I said.
He looked around for just a moment, then brought his gaze back to mine. Both of us stared at the other for a long beat. Then, almost simultaneously, our gazes dropped.
Thankfully, our clothes remained very much on our bodies. I let out a sharp breath and nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed.
Another beat passed and then, while I had absolutely no idea why, we both suddenly started laughing, the sound loud and slightly hysterical. I pointed at him as I tried to catch my breath. “You were going to fight my ex.”
“I still might.” He groaned as he dropped back on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes. “Although maybe we should hydrate first.”
I laughed again, shaking my head as I pushed myself upright. “Maybe we should sober up first.”