They left the bar and began their three-block walk back to the truck, Tyler's arm around her waist, helping to keep her steady. "Would you prefer for me to carry you?"
"I'm not that drunk."
"I know. But I also know that those shoes are starting to bother you. I will be more than willing to carry you back."
"I am not going to have you carry me when I am perfectly capable of walking."
"Too late. I decided I want to." In one swift move, Tyler swept her up into his arms.
She let out a little squeal and started laughing. "Tyler, put me down. I can walk."
"But I want to carry you. I know your feet hurt."
"I feel so silly."
"Don't. Let people look. Let people stare. I do not much care."
Libby relented. She knew that there was no arguing with him. He was going to do what he wanted to do
