She turned toward the gate, but then kept on turning. She did a full circle before stopping unsteadily to blink up at me. Her bottom lip quivered. "I had to take a cab."
That wasn't my question, but what was the point? I knew how she got the code. From Amber. Tomorrow, I'd have to change it. And then, I decided, I'd keep the code to myself, at least as far as Brittney and Amber were concerned.
Looking past the gate, I scanned the street. No cab.
Shit.
I reached for my cell phone. "I'll call you a new one."
"You can't." She choked out a sob. "Nowhere to go."
"Not my problem," I said.
Yes, I was being a dick, but this wasn't the first time some girl showed up, stranded, on my doorstep. By now, I'd seen it all. Drunk, sober, dressed, naked, alone, with friends, whatever – it was all part of the reason I'd moved out here.
That sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen anymore. I had three acres of woods and a big, iron fence. Next, I'd be needing a moat.
Brittney gave another sob. "My roommate locked me out. She was banging some guy. Guess she didn't want to be bothered."
"I know the feeling."
She blinked up at me. "You have a roommate, too?"
"No. And I don't want one."
"Huh?" Brittney leaned toward me and slurred, "I like your tattoos. They're soooo bad-ass." She lost her balance and staggered into me. By instinct, my arms closed around her, catching her against my chest.
"You feel nice," she slurred. "All warm and hard." She ground her pelvis into my thigh. "You wanna invite me in?"
I stepped back to hold her out at arm's length. "No."
She squinted up at me. "You sure? I'm not wearing underpants."
"I'm sure."
"Bummer." She swallowed hard, looking suddenly green around the gills. She scrunched up her face and said, "Can I at least use your bathroom?"
The way it looked, it was either that or watch her barf in the bushes. I stepped aside. "You've got five minutes."
I found her ten minutes later, snoring near the toilet. She was lying, face-down, in a drunken heap, with her dress hiked up above her hips. Sure enough, her ass was bare, except for a butterfly tattoo on her right butt-cheek.
I saw no purse, no wallet, no phone, and in decent news, no barf. Either she'd made it to the toilet in time, or she hadn't been as sick as she looked. If I were lucky, I'd never find out.
I pulled out my cell phone and called Amber. The call went straight to voicemail. Either she was on the phone, or she'd run out of juice. Either way, I left a message. "Call me. Now."
I disconnected the call and eyed the sleeping blonde on my bathroom floor.
She couldn’t stay, but I didn't know who else to call. Brittney was new on the scene, and I had no idea where she lived. Shit, I didn't even know her last name. I crouched down and gave her shoulders a shake. "Hey."
Mumbling, she rolled over onto her back, giving me a full beaver-shot, minus the fur. With both hands, I reached out and yanked down her dress, covering her nakedness as best as I could.
She gazed up at me with sleepy, bloodshot eyes. "Heeeey," she slurred, "you're Lawton Rastor." She gave me an open-mouthed smile. "Ilikedreaming aboutyou." She giggled. "You wanna fuck?"
Sure, because it was my ultimate fantasy to screw a sloppy drunk near my own toilet.
"No," I said.
She narrowed her gaze, squinting hard. "Oh wait. Is this real? You wanna pinch me or something Did you see my new butterfly?"
