Clyde finally managed to peel Micah off, gently set him into the backseat, right beside Darcy. It took effort. Micah clung to him like a sleepy toddler, mumbling nonsense into his shirt, arms hooked around his neck with surprising strength for someone so intoxicated.
"Micah, let go. You'll be more comfortable in the back," Clyde coaxed, easing his grip and lowering him into the seat.
"Nooo, you smell so nice," Micah whined, blinking up at him.
Clyde pressed his lips together, gently guiding Micah's legs into the car. As soon as his body hit the leather seat, Micah, the troublemaker, flopped onto Darcy, seemingly forgetting he was even there. "So warm," Micah mumbled, nuzzling his cheek into Darcy's shoulder like a sleepy cat seeking warmth.
Darcy tensed. His whole body stiffened at the contact. He glanced sideways and checked the man's reaction.
Clyde just let out a sigh and closed the door with a soft click. He circled around to the front and slid into the driver's seat.
