She shook her head. “I’d hardly call thirty-seven old.”
“It’s considerably older than you are, right?”
“I suppose,” she lied.
He grinned at her as he leaned on the table with his elbows. “And just how old are you?”
“Twenty-five—I’ll be twenty-six in a few months.”
“Twenty-five going on twenty-six.”
“Yes.”
“I must be positively ancient to you.” He held out his hand and examined it. “I might have a liver spot or two.”
She smacked his hand playfully. “Shut up. Thirty-seven is not old.”
“See any grey hairs?” he asked, bending over to where his delicious head of hair was in front of her face. Her fingers itched to run through the dark strands. Her mind ran straight to an illicit image of her fingers tugging on his hair as he went down on her, jerking too hard when he sucked and licked her until she came, and then stroking the damp hair back from his forehead as he rose up to cover her body with his.
She cleared her throat that had run dry. “No, of course not.”
He jerked his head up to wink at her. “Then there’s hope for me yet.”
“I would think so.”
Aidan appeared then, carrying all the drinks on a tray. “I expect a tip when you guys finish,” he teased.
“I’ll remember that,” Megan replied.
After jerking his chin toward the table next to him, Aidan said, “Why don’t you guys come over here with us?”
She fought the urge to slap him. She was enjoying having Pesh to herself. “Um, sure. Okay,” she said, reluctantly rising out of her chair. When they changed tables, she was glad to see Pesh take the empty chair beside her, rather than across from her.
Once she got settled in, she wasn’t lamenting her seat change too much. Between Casey, and Emma’s other best friend, Connor, the table was kept in raucous laughter. It was good being with a group of friends. After she had gotten pregnant, she didn’t have much in common with her sorority sisters anymore. Then when she became a mom, she rarely saw anyone from her old group. Her life moved in an entirely different orbit than theirs now.
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.