Three seconds in, and something tells me there’ll be no relaxing dinner in my future.
“I think it’s time to cut her off,” Grumpy sternly said when one of the guys requested that he pour her another shot.
A drunken disorderly bride. That was a new one. Emmett racked his brain for who was getting married, but he didn’t recall any upcoming weddings, and those types of celebrations usually involved the entire town—whether or not the bride and groom technically invited them.
The woman rocked on her stool and then gripped the bar. “Thass prob-ly a good idea. I … Where’d my fries go? Didn’t I have fries?”
All he’d wanted was a burger and a few minutes of quiet before he went home and crawled into bed. Emmett raked a hand through his hair and moved closer to the rowdy group. “You heard him. Let’s give her a little breathing room and get her some water. Has she had food?”
“Jeez. Someone’s a party pooper.” She giggled and wobbled again. She remained facing forward as she focused on regaining her balance, and while he hadn’t gotten a good look at her yet, he didn’t recognize her. “But have no fear, I’ve had all the things. These guys made sure I was taken care of and had lots of drinks to choose from.”
He scowled at the men lining the bar. “You guys bought her drinks? How many did you think she needed?” If he didn’t know the crowd so well, he’d be angry, assuming they were trying to get her drunk, but since these were guys he’d grown up with, he leashed his anger, hoping he wouldn’t have to let it out once he got the full story.
Guilt bled into their features, and Jack spoke up. “Some jerk left her at the altar, and we took it upon ourselves to welcome her to town and to help cheer her up.”
“We didn’t know she was a lightweight,” Corbin added.
She smacked her palm on the bar. “See? I can be fun!”
“Well, I can’t,” Emmett muttered. He put his hand on her arm and slowly spun her around so he could assess just how drunk she was.
Her gaze moved to the handcuffs on his belt, and her eyes widened. “Are you gonna arrest me?” She tipped her face up to him, and he got caught up staring at her delicate features and big blue eyes, and man, she was pretty. He had the urge to cup her cheek and assure her everything would be okay, and then he wondered what had gotten into him and tried to shake off the surge of attraction—the woman had just been left at the altar. She was wearing a wedding dress, for goodness’ sake.
Her shoulders slumped. “Perfect. Might as well end this crappy day in jail.”
She attempted to stand. One of the legs of the stool pinned her skirt to the floor, so she tugged at the material. It came free, and she stumbled right into him. “Oof!” She braced her hands against his chest to steady herself. Then she turned her arms over, extending her wrists and accepting her fate—like he’d really cuff her. He only handcuffed belligerent offenders, and that was usually for their own good.
Emmett frowned down at her, telling himself to stifle the spark that ignited deep in his gut. “I’m not going to arrest you. I’ll take your car keys though.”
Her mouth dropped, and judging by the offense in her features, maybe he’d underestimated her ability to get belligerent. “I’d never drive like this! I can’t believe you’d think I’d drive while under the influence, something I hardly ever am, by the way.”
Funny enough, this was the second time he’d been accused of believing bad things about someone today, but at least he’d actually known the other party. “Not something I’d know, ma’am.”
She scowled and flopped back onto the stool. “Well, now you do. Plus, I’m not sure where my purse is anyway, and my keys are somewhere in there, and …” Her eyebrows drew together, and she rubbed her forehead. Evidently it didn’t help, because she dropped her head on the bar and groaned. “I’m supposed to be on my way to Jamaica. Nice, warm Jamaica.”
“You must’ve taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque,” he said, because his grandparents had raised him on Bugs Bunny cartoons and it’d just sort of popped out.
Sputtered laughter shook the brunette’s shoulders. “So that’s where I went wrong.”
Emmett exhaled and gestured for Corbin to move off the stool next to her so he could occupy it. “Look …”
“Regina,” she supplied, her forehe
ad still on the bar, which couldn’t be comfortable, although it didn’t seem to bother her.
“Regina. I’m Sheriff Haywood.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’m just going to call you Sheriff Party Pooper.”
He gritted his teeth. “Not really okay with me.”
She twisted her head and blinked at him, her cheek on one of those cardboard coasters Grumpy handed out but nobody used. “Not really surprised.”
He fought back a smile. There was something about her underneath the layers of sadness and alcohol, and there he went, having the urge to touch her again—cheek, shoulder, a comforting hand to her back. He wasn’t picky.
Focus, Haywood. “As I was saying, I’m glad to hear you wouldn’t drive under the influence.” Most people needed reminders about the laws now and then, especially in this town where they thought the small size and the fact that they’d known him forever left certain laws open to interpretation. “I’m happy to give you a ride to wherever you’re staying tonight.”
“I haven’t checked to see if they have a room for me, but I was told to go to the Cozy Cottage.”