Dirty
Page 19“Really?” he drawled.
“Absolutely. Life is short, Vaughan.” I grinned. “And short or not, I intend to get one.”
“One what?”
“One life. Just the one. I’m not greedy.”
“Right.” The dude did not look convinced. Gosh, I liked him. He was so pretty. He and his cock were the highlights of my day. After a few more drinks¸ I might even tell him in great rambling detail. What fun. Wonder if he’d let me take a picture for my wallet. Of his face, of course.
“I’ll replace the booze,” I said. “I promise.”
“I’m more worried about your liver than the booze.” He walked over, liberating the bottle from my hand and taking a sniff of the stuff. “Surprised it’s still drinkable. My sister left it here years ago. It was cheap shit then, can’t imagine it’s improved.”
“It’s a little rough on the palate.”
“And you’re drinking straight from the bottle? Classy.”
“I didn’t want to put you out by dirtying a glass.”
I sputtered out a laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s fucking awful.”
“The first few mouthfuls were the hardest, it’s true. But after that, the lining of your throat goes numb. Or it’s burned away,” I hastily amended. “I’m not really sure which.”
With a dubious look, Vaughan handed me back the bottle. Then he took up position standing beside me, legs crossed at the ankle, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. Despite all of the people invading his house in their wedding finery, he’d remained relaxed. Bare feet, skin a couple of shades paler than his arms. Loose threads hanging from the bottoms of his old blue jeans.
For not the first time, I wondered about him and his dramas. If possible, I should help. God knows, he’d more than earned any and all assistance. Few people would have been so understanding.
Officer Andy shifted on his feet, running a hand over his military-short blond hair. Obviously getting impatient. It’d been a long day for everyone.
“When you’re ready, ma’am,” he said. “I’d like to explain to you the situation as it currently stands.”
“Explain away.” I sat up straight.
Officer Andy continued, “The good news is, Mr. Chris Delaney has decided not to press assault charges against you.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Thank god for that.” Down went the tequila. Down my throat, that is. Holy hell, the stuff was potent. I wheezed as delicately as possible, covering my mouth with a hand, tears flooding my eyes. “Why isn’t he?”
“I discussed the situation with them thoroughly,” he said, gaze serious. “With circumstances like this, it’s not unusual for people in the heat of the moment to get carried away. Once they’ve had some time to reflect upon everything that’s at stake, the full ramifications of the conflict, they often change their minds about taking any action.”
“Huh.”
“Yes, well, Vaughan also pointed out that pursuing charges against you would likely raise interest with local media,” reported Andy, almost as an afterthought.
I looked up at Vaughan.
“Still got a few friends at the local radio station.” One of his shoulders rose nonchalantly. “Would only take a call.”
“Really?”
He reached down, seizing the bottle. “No big deal.”
“Eh.” He took another swig of tequila, cringing only slightly this time. “Couldn’t have them carting you off to the big house. We’ve made plans to hang tonight.”
“You’re the best,” I whispered to Vaughan, my hero.
He winked.
Officer Andy cleared his throat, sounding somewhat aggrieved. Over what, I had no idea. Honestly, I’d kind of forgotten he was still there.
“Seeing as the last thing they want is any more attention given to this situation,” he said, “they decided to let it go.”
I blew out a breath of relief.
“They will, however, be taking restraining orders out against you,” said Andy
“Restraining orders?” Wow. It almost made me sound dangerous, like some thug or something. Like I roamed the streets of Coeur d’Alene just looking for people to punch in the nose.