Sam nodded. “Daily. She’s not supposed to drink, but I figured she deserved a glass of wine after the shit you put her through today. I guess Morgan thought she deserved something a little stronger.”

“Damn, who’s that girl next to Morgan?” Sawyer asked.

Sam snapped her finger in his face. “No.” She moved it toward Garrett. “Not you, either. Last thing I need is my husband getting home from deployment and going straight to jail for murder.”

“Noted,” Sawyer replied, already scanning the crowd for his next conquest.

“I wasn’t even looking,” Garrett swore.

When the guys around Morgan urged her to dance on the bar top, I decided it was time to move.

I waded through a sea of Axe body spray with Garrett and Sawyer at my back. Living here for the last five years had taught me that the only thing lacking more than inhibitions with celebrating tourists was their common sense.

“Get out of my way,” I growled at the polo-wearing pretty boy who was inching his hand toward Morgan’s thigh.

The guy shot me a glare but took one look at my face, hopefully seeing the promised murder in my eyes, then glanced back at Sawyer and Garrett, and moved. “All yours,” he mumbled, staggering away. Was I ever that young and stupid?

“Mr. Carolina!” Mia waved as I put myself between the women.

“Well, if it isn’t the reason I’m drinking!” Morgan greeted me with a sweet tone and an equally sweet, fake-ass smile. “Did you come all the way over here to help me pick out a guy to go home with? There have been quite a few propositions for being so early in the evening.”

“I’ve counted four so far,” Mia added.

“The only guy taking you home is me.” My gut twisted at the thought of any other possibility.

“Really? Claire didn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d be up for sharing. You should probably ask her first.” Her smirk lit a fire in my belly.

What had she said about the “old” version of her having a sharp tongue?

I smothered my temper, counted to three, then gripped her hips and hauled her from the bar to the stool polo-shirt boy had vacated.

“Oomph!” she grunted, bouncing slightly as she landed. “Who made you the resident party pooper?” She tilted her head back and looked up at me with glazed eyes.

“Sam was worried. And apparently for good reason. You’re hammered.” The harsh tone was at odds with the gentle touch as I tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Sam?” Morgan’s eyes widened, and her head swiveled to see her friend on the other side of the stool.

“Girl, you need to go home, alone, and you weren’t listening, so I called in reinforcements.” She shrugged unapologetically.