“Enjoying yourself, Becks?” he said ironically. “Thanks for volunteering me for that PSA.”
“You are SO welcome.” She was too drunk to catch the irony. “Hey, J. T.? I’m ready to get back to my cottage. Will you walk me? It’s getting dark and Gordon Papadakis is getting handsy out there on the dance floor. I’m afraid he plans to follow me. ”
J. T. stared at her. Hell.
J. T. He knew that “Wanna walk me?” for what it was. But Rebecca was who she was, and she was hammered, and he knew it probably wouldn’t be safe for her to get to her cottage on her own.
So it was quite a long moment before he answered.
And then he sighed. His manners wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise.
“All right. I’ll walk you.”
They stood. She leaned against him tipsily, struggling a bit in her towering Jimmy Choos, as they wandered the serpentine stone path that wound through the cabins, the night air velvety on the bare parts of his skin, and loneliness was practically a train whistle through his soul.
Loneliness, he decided, was a beautiful night in the company of the wrong person.
“Why so sad, Johnny?” she asked.
“Who says I’m sad?” He was surprised.
Surprised that it showed, actually. And surprised that she’d noticed.
“You’re just quiet. You usually try to make me laugh. Make me laugh, Johnny.”
“I don’t take orders, Becks. You know that.”
He said nothing else. He’d rather be alone with his thoughts of another woman than with Rebecca Corday in the flesh.
He might be the only man in the universe who would.
Fortunately it was a shortish, if dimly lit, walk.
“That was a really remarkable toast today, Johnny.”
“Yep,” he said shortly.
“I had no idea you knew all those things about that word you’re so scared of.”
“I just learned ’em,” he said curtly. He suspected she knew that.
And Rebecca finally stopped walking.
“This your cottage, Becks? I’ll watch you get in.”
She turned to face him.
“I can make you happier,” she murmured. She startled him by toppling forward and burying her face in his neck and inhaling as though she’d been missing his smell.
And then she turned her head and slid her big, pillowy billboard-worthy lips landed on his.
He was astounded. He turned his face away from her swiftly and put a hand out to keep her from toppling forward when he did that.
And he put his hands in his pockets, as if tucking them away for the night. Making his point.
They stared at each other in the dark.
“Good night, Rebecca,” he said firmly.