Before Bran could ask Abe what the meeting had been about, he saw Harper flit past, laughing, holding hands with that son of a bitch Renner Jackson as he led them onto the dance floor.
Did that smarmy f**ker have every single goddamn woman in the county falling all over themselves?
Abe saw the opportunity to corner Janie and was across the room before Bran could stop him. Which left Bran in a shitty situation. Either stay here and watch Renner plaster himself against Harper, or cut in so he could plaster himself against Harper, and let Abe twist in the wind.
Grinding his teeth, Bran watched another man putting his paws all over his woman. They laughed . . . after whispering to each other. Renner spun them into the middle of the crowd, so Bran lost track of their grinding bodies. When they danced back into view, Renner had slipped his leg between Harper’s, so it appeared she was riding his thigh.
Enough. As soon as this song ended he was getting Harper the hell out of here and away from Renner Jackson.
“Bran?”
He spun toward the voice and saw Janie crouching down by the table. “Janie, what the hell are you—”
“I’m avoiding Abe. Here are Harper’s coat and purse. Can you make sure she gets home okay? She’s had a few drinks and I have to get out of here right now.”
“Not a problem.”
Janie patted his leg. “Good to see you, Bran. Thanks for keeping Abe somewhat calm. We’ll talk more later.” And she scooted out, ducking into a crowd.
Bran was on his feet when the last chord twanged. He didn’t even look at Renner. He just held out Harper’s coat.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“I’m taking you home.”
She swayed as she invaded his personal space. “You’re not my boss right now, so I don’t gotta go anywhere with you.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Says who?” Almost on cue, she hiccuped.
Bran grinned. “Says me. Now be a good girl and get your coat on.”
Her eyes narrowed at his choice of the word girl.
Renner put his hand on Bran’s back and spoke to Harper. “That’s my cue to leave, now that I see you’re in good hands.”
“You’re abandoning me?” she complained to Renner.
“Yep. Thanks for the dance, doll.” He walked off.
Smart man.
Harper snatched her coat from Bran’s hands and wouldn’t let him help her put it on. She spun around, whapping him in the face with her hair as she sauntered off.
He followed her outside, ignoring the pointed stares of the other bar customers.
When it appeared that she intended to stumble the two blocks home on her own, Bran stepped in front of her and hoisted her over his shoulder. He’d come back for his truck later.
They were going to have this out right now.
Chapter Sixteen
“You cannot hang me upside down like I’m a slab of meat, Bran Turner!” Her head bounced with Bran’s every confident footstep.
“Sweetheart, your indignity would mean a helluva lot more if I could understand what you’re sayin’, but bein’s your words are muffled against my ass, I can’t.”
Irritated, Harper smacked the backs of his thighs like she was playing the bongos. “Let me down, you big mean jerk!”
“Sure thing. Right after I dump you in your house so I know you ain’t gonna fall on your butt and lay out here and freeze to death.”
“I am not that drunk.” And so what if she was? She was an adult. Making new friends meant buying a few rounds. And maybe she had had a celebratory shot after she’d found out that Bran hadn’t been married to Janie. In all the years that she’d listened to Celia complain about Abe’s whiny ex-wife it’d surprised Harper that Janie didn’t fit that description at all. Maybe Janie had changed, grown up, whatever. Harper really liked Janie, another reason she was glad the woman hadn’t worn Bran’s ring and slept in his bed.
“Didja pass out back there, Harper?”
She smacked his bu**ocks in response.
Bran laughed. “Careful. I kinda like that.”
“So you’ll let me turn you over my knee like you did to me?”
That answer earned her a sharp crack on the ass and she yelped. “Don’t be telling tales outta school where anyone can hear you.”
“You’re not making any sense. Maybe you’re drunk.”
“Not hardly. You had a head start on me.” He shifted her slightly.
She tried not to worry that she weighed too much. But she’d seen him haul a hundred-and-fifty-pound calf on his back, and if he got a crick in his neck, well, good. She hadn’t asked to be lugged around in the cold like a helpless heifer anyway.
“Is your sister home?” he asked.
“No. She’s mad at me and she’s probably not coming home.” Shoot. Maybe she shouldn’t have admitted that.
“Good. Because you and I need to get some things straight.”
“I wouldn’t think you’d care about setting things straight, being’s you think I’m so drunk and all—which, FYI, I’m not.”
His amused “I know” was followed by another male chuckle. A cocky one, in her opinion.
Bran whistled while he crossed the next block. Whistled. Like he was having a jolly old time.
She whacked his butt just for that.
He laughed again.
“Almost there.” He turned up the sidewalk and didn’t set her down until he’d reached the top step. “Keys.”