He grunted and cursed as he maneuvered her onto the passenger seat, but finally had her safely ensconced in her seat. When he came around to the driver’s side and reached over to buckle her in, her eyes were drooping.

“Tara, you can’t fall asleep now.” He gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “You need to focus and tell me where you live.”

She snored softly in response.

“Wait a minute,” he said to himself. “Her driver’s license.”

He reached for her purse and searched through it with a mumbled apology. He saw her giant set of keys, her phone, a tube of lipstick, and some crumpled up cash in there, but no license. Then he remembered her telling him that she had driven to the wedding with her family. She must’ve left her driver’s license at home.

Seth grabbed fistfuls of his hair and groaned. He had no idea where she lived, and taking her to his hotel wasn’t the best idea for his sanity. She was so breathtaking, especially when she’d relaxed and laughed with him. He’d been tempted to kiss her all night until she went from zero to drunk in the blink of an eye. Sleeping next to her soft warm body was going to be torture.

But what choice did he have? He wasn’t going to leave her alone at the brewery. Nor was he going to spend a night in the car with her when he had a warm bed waiting for him. Well, for them.

“Shit,” he said, which helped marginally with his frustration.

He pulled out of the brewery’s parking lot and drove the few blocks to his hotel. Lola’s Inn and Trattoria was a charming Italian restaurant with a few welcoming, thoughtfully appointed rooms on the second and third floors. He loved everything about it. The warm, dark wood of the décor in the restaurant to the cozy, farmhouse-style rooms. This was his go-to spot to stay when he visited Landon. His brother let him get away with staying at a hotel since Seth wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep with Morgan waking up several times during the night.

It was past two o’clock in the morning, so there was no one watching the front counter, which made sneaking into the hotel with Tara a bit less nerve-wracking. Even so, he scanned the parking lot to check that there was no one around. She was a local, and he didn’t want her subjected to prying eyes while she stumbled out of his car dead drunk.

“Tara. Tara,” Seth said, unbuckling her. She mumbled something and opened one eye.

“Wassit? Who’s you? Seth?” Then she closed her eye again.

“I don’t know where you live so I brought you to Lola’s. I need you to walk up with me to my room. Okay?” Seth shook her lightly by her arm. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee, and take you home once you sober up.”

“Mar-ma-lade. Orange marmalade,” she said with gravitas as though her words were of great importance.