“Nope,” I say. “Sorry, I was helping someone in the bathroom.”

“Oh.” He puts down his empty glass.

“Sorry. I should have let you know.” I turn to the bartender, a blue-haired twenty-something with piercings, and add, “So sorry you had to deal with this.”

I fish a couple of bills from my wallet and place them on the bar. The bartender gratefully slips the money into their pocket.

Ian is practically a stranger, but I still don’t want to leave him alone at the bar like this. Not when he’s drunk out of his mind. Maybe I can call him a car.

“Come on,” I say to Ian. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I meant those last words figuratively, since there’s no way I can actually physically take him out of the bar, and am wholly unprepared when Ian slumps forward, slipping down from his seat like he expects someone like me to support a giant like him.

“Oh, nononono!”

Panic flashes in my head, but I’m not fast enough to avoid the crushing weight of a two-hundred-something-pound man bearing down on me. It’s like I’m fighting a grizzly. And failing miserably.

The people around us jump out of the way. A few younger ones start recording on their phones. This is what I get for trying to be nice. Which is laughable now, because clearly, no one wants to help me.

I’m about to drop him on the floor when the pressure lightens significantly.

“Whoa there, buddy.”

I turn my head to see Celeste holding the man up. Her slender arms strain against his weight, but they miraculously push a now asleep Ian back onto the bar stool. The jackass actually dozed off at some point.

Still, Celeste manhandled him expertly… all while wearing heels. It’s, unfortunately, one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

My face heats up when our eyes met again. Shit.

“I never understood why short women always go for the really tall guys,” Celeste says in a familiar, dry tone. “Save some for us tall girls, won’t you, Gemma?”

I’m out of breath, and my heart is still racing with the adrenaline of having almost been crushed alive. But I manage to get out, “You don’t even like men.”

Celeste flashes me a wry smile. “That’s incorrect. I like my jiujitsu instructor and my personal trainer, and without both men, we would have been crushed alive. Not all of them are bad, shockingly. My best friend is also a guy.”

Shoving away all inappropriate thoughts of Celeste working out and wrestling with people on the floor, I clear my throat. “But you’d never date them.”

She cocks her head to the side in acknowledgment.

“Where’s Gretchen?” I ask, belatedly realizing that the other woman is nowhere to be found.

“Safely on her way home. I got her a car.”