Page 7 of The London Chance

Wow. He was seriously fucked up. This might take a little wrangling.

“Stay here,” I commanded.

I pushed my way to the stage and rescued the pinstriped suit coat from a chair. My umbrella was still sticking out of the pocket, so I was fairly confident it was his. Chance was deep in conversation with a fellow patron when I returned to his side. He fumbled through a round of slurred introductions but didn’t seem to mind when I cut him off and ushered him outside.

He inhaled like a diver who’d been underwater too long, then stepped onto the sidewalk, his face tilted toward the sky. “I love rain.”

I pulled him into the doorway. “Yeah, yeah. Rain’s great. C’mon, I’ll get you a cab. Where are you staying?”

“Soho. No…Piccadilly. Same difference. It’s o’er there.” He pointed unsteadily, fishing the umbrella I’d given him earlier from his pocket and opening it with a flourish. “Sank you ver mush. I will be on my way, kind sir. Cheerio.”

I went after him. “Hang on. You can’t just walk. You don’t know where you’re going, and it’s pouring.”

“A little water never hurt no one.”

I stared after him, rain soaking me through. This was a quandary. On one hand, Chance was a grown-ass man. If he wanted to walk to his hotel alone at night in a torrential downpour to a hotel he might or might not know the location of, that was his prerogative. Right?

Technically, yes, but also…no. Chance might not be my responsibility, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to him.

That sounded noble and all, however, I was still at a loss. I couldn’t force him into a cab. That was creepy. A deep sigh reverberated through my body as I trudged after my drunk date. Who, I might add, was no longer my date. He was just a guy I knew…who’d gone out of his way to get blasted after one dinner with yours truly. And let’s not forget the fucking karaoke too.

My lips twitched at the memory of Chance revving up the crowd. He was a firecracker and—he was walking directly into traffic.

Shit!

“Hey! Stop.” I grabbed his arm before he attempted to cross the street. “Are you nuts? You’re going to get run over. They drive on the opposite side of the road here, and you need to watch where you’re going.”

Chance blinked in surprise and frowned. “Why are you here?”

“Because I can’t let you wander around on your own,” I yelled over the rumble of thunder. “We have to get out of this rain. Where is your hotel?”

“That way…I think. It’s a Marriott or a Hyatt. I can’t ’member, but I’ll know it when I see it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I ducked under the umbrella with him and was immediately hit with an unexpected zing of awareness. I pushed it aside, bending to speak so he’d hear me over the cacophony of weather.

“That’s not a good strategy tonight. I’ll get a cab and we’ll drive by the Marriott and Hilton. You can tell us which one is yours from there, right?”

“Oh, yes. For sure.”

“Okay, good. Let’s go.”

He didn’t reply. He just sort of stared at me blankly…or drunkenly. He’d only had two drinks with me, but he’d had over two hours to get sloshed, and apparently, he’d gone all in.

I held his elbow when he swayed ominously. Just as I opened my mouth to repeat myself, Chance fluttered his lashes and slunk his arms around my waist.

“You are so handsome. I think you might be the most handsomest man in the whole universe,” he gushed.

“Uh…thanks.” I attempted to gently extricate myself…not easy when you’re stuck under an umbrella.

Chance tightened his hold, and for a skinny guy, he was surprisingly strong. “We should totally kiss. With tongue.”

“We totally shouldn’t. You’re drunk. Let’s get that cab.” I pulled his arm from my waist and laced my fingers with his. “Damn, your hand is cold.”

“But my heart ish warm and my dick is hard ish. Wanna see?”

I immediately recaptured his hand when he let go of mine to undo his belt. “No. Stop it.”