The conversation and laughter flowed as easily as the drinks. Megan found herself halfway through her second margarita when she started feeling funny. A flush filled her cheeks at the same time she felt clammy. As Aidan came back with another beer, she asked, “Did you put something different in this one?”

“Yeah, we ran out of the tequila I got for the party, so I gave my favorite niece a good dose of Sierra Silver.”

“What?” Megan demanded.

Aidan’s brows furrowed behind his tipped back beer bottle. Once he swallowed, he asked, “Does it taste bad?”

Megan pinched her eyes shut. The room was beginning to spin around her a little. As she brought her hand to her forehead, she heard a smack across the room and Aidan cry, “Ow, dammit, Em!”

“That tequila is a hundred and fifty proof alcohol, Aidan,” Emma chastised.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it. I just thought it was the better stuff because it was white tequila. That’s your drink of choice, not mine.”

Oh God, she was in so much trouble. She’d barely consumed any alcohol since she got pregnant and had Mason. Now she’d had one regular dosed margarita and almost a full one of straight alcohol.

A gentle hand landed on her thigh. “Are you all right?” Pesh asked.

She opened her eyes to see two blurry images of him staring at her with concern. “Not exactly.”

“Would you like me to take you home?”

“Yes, please. While I can still walk.”

As she rose out of her chair, she swayed a little in her heels. After taking two steps, Aidan’s apologetic face appeared before her. “I’m sorry, Meggie.”

“It’s not your fault. And I’ll be fine.” She wagged a finger at him. “But when I get shit for coming home drunk, I’m so telling Mom it was your fault.”

He smiled. “I’ll gladly take the blame and fear Angie’s wrath.” He leaned in to hug her. “Thanks for today—you know, for being Noah’s godmother.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for me asking you.” She shook her head. “I mean, thanks for asking me.” God, this was bad.

After exchanging hugs with Emma and reassuring her at least twenty times that she would be fine and that she did need to go home, Pesh led Megan out the front door. He slid a strong arm around her waist to steady her as they went down the porch steps.

As she staggered to the car, she moaned. “I can’t go home yet. Not like this.” She stared up into his face. “I can’t let Mason see me like this.”

He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Don’t worry. I’ll take you to my house then.”

“Just so I can sober up?” she questioned, although she really didn’t mean it. She wanted to go to his house for a lot more, especially after being so close to his fabulously built body.

“Yes, of course. I’ll make you some strong, black coffee.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, trying to still the spinning of her head.

“You’re welcome.” Always the gentleman, Pesh opened the door for her, and she collapsed onto the seat. Once he made sure she was comfortable, he closed the door and went around the front of the car. Megan gazed around at the plush interior of the Jaguar with its leather seats and sleek console.

After Pesh slid into his seat, he put the key in the ignition and cranked up. As they started backing out of the driveway, she glanced over at him. “Do you have to come to the rescue women of drunken.” She shook her head. “I mean, drunken women a lot?” she asked. Wait, was she slurring?

He cut his eyes over at her and smiled. He seemed to be trying really hard not to laugh at her. “Not exactly. But I’m always happy to help a damsel in distress.”

Megan giggled. Oh God, now she was giggling? She never giggled. She eyed Pesh suspiciously. “Got a hero complex, huh? Wanna be every woman’s knight in shining armor?”

“Not every woman’s,” he murmured.

“Mmm, Pesh, you wanna be my knight in shining armor?” As soon as the words left her lips, she fought the urge to slap her hand over her mouth. Alcohol always had this effect on her—it left her completely without a sensor.

Pesh’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t reply. Pitching her upper body over the armrest, she got as close to him as she could. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Taking his eyes momentarily off the road, he pinned her with an intense gaze. “I’d be anything and everything you wanted me to be, if you would give me the chance.”

Momentarily dumbfounded, she could only stare at him. “Oh wow,” she replied, as she collapsed back onto the seat. The motion caused her to feel dizzy. Mumbling almost incoherently, she said, “Mmm, hot as f**k and anything I want. Lucky me.”

“I have a feeling you wouldn’t have asked the original question if you weren’t intoxicated.”

With a snort, she replied, “Drunk or sober that woulda been a helluva line to hear from a man.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

After spending a few moments in tense silence, Megan leaned forward to flick on the radio. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.”

Humming along with one of the songs, she laid her head back on the seat. “I won’t hurt your ears by singing.”

“Do you not sing?”

“Oh, I sing, but I don’t do it well. Emma’s the one with the voice.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Turning to look at him, Megan asked, “Did she ever sing for you?”

“Sadly, no.”

Megan harrumphed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “She made out with you, but she wouldn’t sing for you? That’s just rude.”

Pesh made a strangled noise. “Emma told you…about us?”

“Mmm, hmm.” She grinned at him. “I hear you’re a great kisser.”

Cutting his eyes over to her, he gave her a pained look. “It really wasn’t like that for us. I mean, we weren’t in love with each other.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. Course, she did admit that you got her all hot and bothered.”

“S-She did?” he stammered, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

“Hey, the ability to get a woman hot is nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, I got turned on when I first saw you today. Like my panties got wet.”

“Megan, don’t,” Pesh warned, gripping the steering wheel to where his knuckles turned white.