A picture of Nadine with that apple pie in her hand snuck across Allie’s mind. She tucked her chin to her chest and glared at the tequila bottle in her left hand. How in the hell had she drunk half a bottle of that, too? Did Nadine drop by and help her?
“Well, here’s to Nadine and apple pies that Blake doesn’t like. But he likes pretty girls and his mama.” She clinked the two bottles together in a toast. “Some friend I am. Nadine has been down there working on that shitty old building for days trying to turn it into a café, and I haven’t even stopped by to check on her.”
“Who are you talkin’ to?” Granny asked as she slung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’m going to the kitchen for more pie. Want me to bring you some?”
“No, thank you. I’ll be right behind you.”
Allie frowned as she held on to the furniture and walls and made her way to the door. Lizzy could watch Granny for the rest of the afternoon. After all, she was only playing that boring as hell game of Monopoly. Now if she’d been up in her bedroom having wild, passionate, afterglow-producing sex with Mitch, Allie wouldn’t expect her to watch Granny. But between boring sex and boring Monopoly, Allie would probably choose the board game, too.
She giggled at the idea of bored and board being pronounced the same way. Then the laughter died and sadness set in. Poor darling Lizzy wasn’t ever going to experience the kind of sex that Allie had had with Blake. She loved her sister even if they weren’t best friends. They should fix that and Allie would make the first step. She carried the two bottles out into the foyer and yelled her sister’s name.
“My God, you are drunk. On a Sunday, no less,” Lizzy gasped when she saw her sister leaning against the wall.
“Shhhh, don’t yell. Mitch will hear. He’ll pray for me and I don’t want God to know that I’ve been drinkin’ on Sunday.” The words were slurred but at least she was standing on her own two feet.
“Mitch and Grady left a long time ago. Granny and I are about to have a slice of pie. She said you were cleaning her closet. You smell like a liquor store.” Lizzy’s pert little nose curled up. “You are drunk. You were supposed to be watching Granny, not getting drunk.”
Allie giggled. “I’m not drunk and I love you, Lizzy. Don’t marry Mitch. You won’t ever have mind-blowing sex with him or know what an afterglow is. He’s boring as a board game.” She hugged her sister. “Let’s bury the hatchet and have a drink to toast being best friends.” She held up the two bottles and clinked them together. “Which one will it be? Se?or Patrón or bad, bad boy Jack?”
“Neither one.” Lizzy made a grab for the liquor. “Give me those bottles and go sleep it off in your room.”
Allie hugged them to her breast like long-lost relatives. “Hell, no! I’m going to town to have a drink with Nadine. I’m dis…dis…appointed in you, Lizzy. Nadine will be my best friend if you won’t and you ain’t going to be happy ever, not ever.”
“You can’t drive drunk,” Lizzy protested.
“I tell you, I’m not drunk, but I will be by the time I finish up my visit with these two. You take care of Granny. If she runs away, you’ll answer to Mama.” Allie picked up her purse from the foyer table and staggered out the front door. She heard Lizzy talking to her mother on the phone, but her sister could talk to Jesus, God, and Moses for all she cared. She needed a best friend and Nadine would be glad to drink a toast with her.
Besides she hadn’t been a good friend to the woman. No doubt, Nadine would be at the store building because she wanted to open the café in another week. It was absolutely imperative that Allie tell her that all cowboys didn’t like apple pie. They liked their mamas and pretty girls but some of them liked cherry pie or maybe even lemon meringue, but not to depend on apple pies. A friend would be honest with Nadine and tell her that.
She put the bottles between her legs, backed her thirteen-year-old pickup truck out of the driveway, and widened her eyes, being careful not to blink except when totally necessary. She’d prove to Deke that she could hold her liquor, prove to Lizzy that she wasn’t drunk, and Blake Dawson could go to hell for not letting her explain.
When she made it to the end of the lane, she put her foot on the brake. Left was town. Right took her to the Lucky Penny. Or was right town? She wasn’t drunk. She knew that Blake didn’t like apple pie. If she was drunk, she wouldn’t remember that. She twisted the cap off the Jack and took a long gulp. Everything was clear as a bell and the whiskey didn’t even burn. She could hold her liquor. All she needed was bad boy Jack to clear her mind.