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“Now, how are you getting back to the motel?” He looked like he was going to argue some more, shifting slowly in the gurney to a more upright position but something pulled him up short and he winced. “I’ll catch a cab.” “And is there someone who can keep an eye on you?” He’d been pretty wiped out from the morphine. She’d be more comfortable discharging him if she was doing it to someone’s care. “Are you kidding? The rodeo’s over. The motel will be full of yahooing bull riders.” “I mean someone who’ll actually look in on you, not be drunk off their ass while you throw up in your sleep and choke on your own vomit.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I bet you’re fun at parties.” Parties? Ha! She should be so lucky. “I’m a real treat.” — Amy Andrews