Night Watch (11) by Suzanne Brockmann

Author:Suzanne Brockmann [Brockmann, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN
Published: 2003-06-27T04:00:00+00:00

WES DROVE WITH BOTH hands on the steering wheel, aware of Brittany’s silence, aware that his immediate apology after Amber had gotten into her car and pulled out of her garage may not have been the right thing to do.

He shouldn’t have kissed her, period. He should have kept his hands to himself. He should never have gotten a taste of her sweetness and fire.

But goddamn, she’d kissed him like he’d never been kissed before.

Even now, all these long minutes later, he was still feeling shell-shocked and emotionally dizzy.

And despite his apology, despite his admission that he’d gone too far and that kissing her in the first place had been a mistake, he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to go even farther. He wanted…

He glanced at her.

She was looking out the window, subdued, pensive, tired. Hurt?

He honestly didn’t know. She’d had a long, grueling, emotionally draining day at work. She certainly had the right to be tired.

But Jesus, what if she’d actually wanted him to kiss her, and then he’d gone and called it a crazy mistake?

Except, after Amber had come out of her room and interrupted them, Brittany had stood there, looking for all the world as if she were about to cry. He’d apologized—for what he wasn’t sure. Maybe for having to stop kissing her.

Maybe for being born.

And she’d said it was okay, but she was so obviously not okay.

And she was still not okay.

And he wasn’t either. He felt shaken and desperate and completely turned upside down.

Wes dragged his eyes back to the road. It was late, but the street was pretty busy. Stores were closed, but some of the restaurants were open. And the bars were still hopping, their neon lights flashing.

Joe’s Cantina, dead ahead on the right, with its colorful lights and Mexican decor, looked like the kind of place he and Bobby used to hang, sometimes all the way to last call. They’d drink and drink and drink, and then drink some more.

There was a parking spot open right in front, and he hit his brakes hard, skidding slightly.

The car behind him blew his horn, then went around them with a flurry of obscene gestures and a squeal of tires.

That caught Britt’s attention, and she turned to look at him in surprise while he parallel parked.

“What do you say we go get a drink?” he said as he straightened the car out and pulled up the parking brake. “I could use a shot of tequila.”

She looked at him, looked at Joe’s Cantina, looked back at him. “I don’t think that’s a good—” She cut herself off. Sat very still for a moment. Took a breath. “Of course, it’s up to you if you really want to go in there and—”

“I don’t really want a shot of tequila,” he told her. “I want, like, ten.”

Silence.

Then, “What do you want me to say to that, Wes?” she said quietly. “You tell me you think you’re an alcoholic. You tell me you want to stop drinking completely.

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