Autumn Night Whiskey (Tequila Rose Book 2)

by Willow Winters

  He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine in passionate stokes. The groan that escapes him is full of hunger and instantly my nipples pebble, my core heats and I want him. I’d be a liar if I said otherwise. Heat consumes me instantly, so I pull back, needing to breathe in cooler air. Leaving an openmouthed kiss on my neck, he drags his teeth down my skin and it brings me to the edge of need.

  His hands drop down to my thighs, his fingers running along the hem before he pulls back and I lower my gaze to his. The first boy I loved and gave myself to, the man who’s held me up when I couldn’t stand, and the lover I’ve kept for years looks back at me longingly.

  “I love you, Magnolia,” he whispers.

  Reality slips its way in, only a fraction, but it’s enough to push the words out, words that he needs to know.

  “I slept with him.” Swallowing thickly, I tell him again, “I slept with Brody.”

  A moment passes and I’m not certain Robert’s heard me. “He wants to see me tomorrow … after the gala at the after-party.”

  The cords in his neck tighten as he swallows. It’s his only reaction as my heart races, slamming in protest with each harsh beat.

  “That’s okay,” he finally responds just above a murmur. “It’s complicated, but,” he licks his lower lip, his tone calm and accepting, “that’s okay,” he repeats. I don’t expect him to kiss me again, let alone to whisper at the shell of my ear, “Sleep with him, do whatever you want with him. But tell me if he does something you like. I’ll do it better and when I’m done with you, you’ll forget all about him.”

  The chill of the air caresses my neck in the absence of his heat as he pulls away. One beat and then another passes with his gaze focused on me, trapping me and tempting me. The intensity is all too much.

  “I don’t want to go anywhere without you, Mags.” His baby blues drop to my lips before meeting my eyes again and he adds, “I don’t want to lose you.”

  There’s a spark inside of me that’s always been his. It’ll never die and it rages with need and understanding when he leans forward for another kiss. Robert pauses, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. “Please, let me love you.”

  With memories and promises, with everything we’ve been through clouding my judgment as much as lust is, I lean forward, silencing him and crush my lips against his.

  His fingertips are careful and gentle as they brush against my thighs, slipping the thin fabric of my nightshirt up higher.

  I inhale a deep breath, my head falling back, and submit to what feels right in this moment. Even if it also feels wrong.

  His lips trail down my neck as my nails scratch down his back, wanting his shirt off, needing to feel his skin against mine. My body knows his and as he lays me down on the sofa, everything feels right and need takes over. It’s a desperate need to know how we feel together that fuels the fire.

  My neck arches and for a moment, I have a glimpse at what happens next. What happens after this moment is only a memory, and my heart shatters. My lips desperately seek his to keep the thought at bay, but for a moment I felt the pain strike me in an instant.

  My heart breaks in a way where I know it’s saying goodbye. That he came here to say goodbye in a way and instead I held on. If only I don’t move, if only we stayed here forever, the shards of my heart wouldn’t fall, they’d stay right where they should. But we can’t stay here like this. There’s so much more to life than the whispered declarations of two kids in love making promises they can’t keep.

  “I love you,” he reminds me in between heated kisses and that’s all I need to cling to him and get lost in the moment again. Simply loving him back like I have all my life is all I need to think about for tonight.

  Magnolia

  “All is fair in love and war” is a downright dirty lie.

  I know darn well what happened last night wasn’t fair.

  There’s nothing fair about having your heart ripped out of your chest, and I feel every bit of that pain as I stand here.

  The lights are dim enough to feel romantic, yet the spotlights showcase each piece with pride. The music is soft enough for the chatter to carry throughout the space, yet the bass is felt just slightly.

  The aroma of sweet wine and delicate hors d’oeuvres expertly passed around on silver trays is subtle, yet appetizing. Everything for the gala is perfect. It’s as if I’ve plucked it from my dreams and delivered it on one of those silver platters myself.

  And yet all I can focus on in this moment is the fact that Brody is waiting for me back at his bar once I close down the event.

  It feels like I’ve betrayed him. Even if I was with Robert first. Even if he knows I care for Robert and he cares for me in return. Even if we aren’t exclusive. All is not fair in love. Maybe there’s nothing fair about love at all.

  Still, I did what my heart wanted me to and it felt right, even if it felt like goodbye.

  “Literally gorgeous,” Mandy repeats for at least the fourth time tonight, her flattened hand gesturing twice in the packed space with the tips of her fingers pointed up to the ceiling. She’s three champagne glasses in and it’s noticeable, given that the fluttering hand nearly smacks against her husband’s glass. He’s quick to avoid the disaster and he gives her a smirk, his arm wrapped around her waist. Sean pulls her in tighter as she continues.

  “I knew putting my faith in you was the right thing to do.” Her comment comes with a vigorous nod.

  I’m not going to lie, I’m grateful she went out ahead of time with Samantha and a few other artists. From what I’ve gathered through social media, Sam’s a heavy drinker and it appears that my boss tried to keep up with her. It also appears her husband finds it humorous as he tucks his tie back inside of his jacket, just in time for her to tug it out again playfully. Her hands haven’t left him since they walked in. All in all, that means the pressure I felt before she walked in has greatly subsided.

  “Is there anything you need me to do?” Mandy questions, straightening and seemingly sober for a moment, as if she just heard my thoughts.

  With a quick shake, I widen the smile I’ve had plastered on my face for the last hour and answer, “Not a thing.”

  Which is true. I’ve hired help for the night. A great deal of the budget actually went to labor costs. It started with a whirlwind of men helping me set up three hours ago, and it’ll end with a cleaning crew in the morning. Only three pieces have yet to sell of over twenty on display; the night has just begun as most guests didn’t arrive until just a half hour ago.

  “Everything’s going perfectly,” I say and the response to Mandy feels like a lie, but not because of the event. Literally every aspect is just how I wanted it to be. It’s perfect, but I’m not faring as well.

  It’s the fact that Robert walked in five minutes ago, brushing elbows with a couple. The man is in a tailored dark gray suit that’s obviously expensive, but pales in comparison to the dress perfectly hugging his companion’s curves. It’s seductive and a bit overdressed for a cocktail event, but gorgeous nonetheless. It’s better to be overdressed than under, anyway. I imagine he’s the politician in for the weekend whom Robert’s planned to woo.

  The second I laid eyes on him, he smiled at me, this charming and confident smile. It breaks my heart because I don’t want to take that smile away from him, but after last night, I know things have to change between us. Even if he doesn’t want it to.

  “Enjoy the night, dear.” My boss barely gets out the words with a quick squeeze of my shoulder before calling out “There you are,” and brushing past, her husband in tow, to greet someone behind me. She’s a mess, but a delighted mess so I’ll take it.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” her husband, Sean, assures me with an equally delighted smile and a hint of his Southern accent. He’s tall with dark hair and watching them together … they pair perfectly.

  I failed to tell her about the surprise, but how can I possibly think straight knowing Robert is right there? My cowardly h
eart wishes things were different. I wish I’d known how this was going to end years ago. Hindsight really is twenty-twenty.

  “You didn’t sleep a wink.” I jump at Renee’s voice, my hand flying to my chest. She’s right, I didn’t sleep at all after Robert left. The reality of it all made me play out how the scene will go tonight when I confess it all to Brody.

  With my lips parted, I swear I planned on making a joke about sleep, but not a word comes out and Renee’s eyes go big.

  “You had sex with Brody,” she guesses in a hushed whisper, glee clear on her face.

  With my lips pressed in a thin line, I shake my head gently and that glee vanishes, her brow climbing as high as it can go.

  “Oh. Em. Gee. With Robert?” The shock on her face is exacerbated by her jaw remaining dropped. Her cherry-red lips match the fifties-style pinup dress.

  “How the heck can you even tell I had sex,” I mutter in disbelief as she snags a second glass of champagne, throwing it back at my admission by lack of denial.

  Blinking several times, she practically hisses her whisper with a scrunched-up expression, “You slept with Robert?”

  “I …”

  “The gala is going well.” Sharon’s voice is heard at the same time her hip bumps against mine, breaking into our invisible confessional booth.

  The pop of a champagne bottle accompanied by a round of applause steals my attention. The man of conversation is responsible for the interruption. Robert’s found the bottle I stowed away for him behind the bar to impress whomever it is he’s attempting to persuade. Judging by the glimpse of pearly whites and nods, I think it’s going well for him.

  I hope it is.

  “You should become an event planner.” Sharon speaks up again before taking a sip of the bubbly. Her sleek red dress matches Renee’s lips, but Sharon opted for a nude shade on hers. It’s nearly eight now and the first thought I have, glancing at the clock on my phone, is that Brody’s bar is opening up now for the first time. Why last night of all the nights? Questions, regrets and unknowns swarm my head every empty second as the clock ticks on.

  Sharon’s gaze finally lands on Renee’s expression and she rights herself to ask, “What did I miss?”

  “Ladies,” Robert’s voice greets us just in time for the crowd to gather, Renee to my left and Sharon to my right. “I promised the director of administrations I’d introduce him to the planner of tonight’s event.” His crisp navy suit is my favorite of all the ones he owns because it frames his shoulders perfectly, and he’s wearing the dark gray tie I got him last Christmas. He slips his hand down it before smoothing his jacket as he introduces each of us, including Renee and Sharon.

  Everything about him is easygoing and the group around him is relaxed. He has a way of doing that. He’s always been charming, polite and handsome. A tingle travels down my neck and across my shoulders just hearing his voice. The words that kept me up at night lay at the tip of my tongue, begging to be spoken. Swallowing them down, I manage a warm, “Thank you for coming.”

  “My dear, this event is lovely,” Marc comments and I note that he’s much older than Robert, the wrinkles around his eyes giving proof to years of experience. Even still, he possesses the same charm and charisma.

  Sharon’s a bit tipsy and pulls an adorable curtsy that’s rewarded with a chuckle from the far too sober director, but a great warmth from the woman on his arm. The woman Robert introduced as Olivia tells me, “I love everything about tonight.” She speaks with an accent I can’t place. Her makeup is subdued and natural compared to her attire, but not a strand is out of place in her simple but chic bun.

  “Thank you, and I love your accent,” I tell her and the compliment only makes her smile broader. Perfect pearly whites shine back.

  “Thank you. My husband stole me away from Spain years ago.” She gazes lovingly at Marc and I wonder what their love story is. I wonder if mine would resonate with her. Leaving the thoughts in my head where they belong, I listen to Robert boast about the art programs in town and the changes they’ve made to some bill that’s up for debate.

  Wining and dining come naturally to him, and he converses with the couple and the two other gentlemen easily. Renee has disappeared but Sharon’s enthralled with Olivia, and the two of them seem to hit it off right from the start.

  It’s when Olivia raises her glass in cheers that I spot the ring. It’s quite a large diamond that sparkles in the light as the glasses clink. Again, I find myself absorbed by thoughts of marriage like I never have before. Thoughts of Brody in front of me, teasing me, flicker in my mind. Although, if I were him, I don’t know how I’d react to last night.

  “Robert tells me you’re an expert in this,” Marc says, interrupting my thoughts, and gestures around the room. “The … art my wife goes on about,” he adds and his statement comes out sounding like a question.

  I blink twice, wondering if he means all art.

  “She’s aggressive in her desire to save the arts,” he elaborates with a tone that tells me he’s not certain he agrees.

  “Oh, I see,” I say and nod, noting he still hasn’t touched his drink and he’s certainly here for more business … at least for the moment. “Well, I have to agree with her, and she’s certainly a woman with good taste.”

  “That she is.” The endorsement brings back his smile and the glass finally makes its way to his lips. His gaze settles on his wife’s backside. The moment that glass comes down, though … I wish he’d downed it and taken Olivia to the inn like he obviously wants to do.

  “So, you two?” he questions, the glass in his hand motioning between Robert and me.

  “Marc.” Robert’s tone is one meant to put a halt to that questioning and steer the conversation elsewhere.

  “What?” He draws back slightly, clearly defending his statement. “I see the way you look at her.”

  My heart does that pitter-patter and I steal a glass of champagne to hide behind from a tray passing by. My first of the night. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch an ounce of alcohol during the event, but my nerves are shot.

  “We’re good friends.” Robert’s response feels twofold. Both a shield to protect me, and yet it’s a knife to my heart all the same. Hasn’t it always felt like that, though?

  The director’s eyebrows raise and he shakes his head as if he doesn’t believe him. “If that’s the way you want it then.”

  “Excuse me,” I say and I’m as polite as I can manage. Not that it matters; Robert knows me all too well. As I turn with an amiable nod to the two of them, Marc acknowledges my departure with a raise of his glass before turning his attention to his wife, but Robert follows me.

  I wish I could outrun him and more importantly, outrun the turmoil of hypocrisy that churns inside of me.

  We’re only friends. That’s all we’ve ever told anyone for years. Only friends. What’s changed is that I know for certain, that’s all we were meant to be.

  Last night we weren’t, but what right do I have to a title more than friends, when I’ve told him that’s all I want and I’m actively pursuing someone else? Someone who is more than likely going to be hurt by what I did last night, with my so-called friend.

  “Mags,” he says and Robert’s hushed voice is laced with urgency.

  The smile stays in place, although it’s tight and it doesn’t keep my eyes from pricking with tears that shouldn’t be there. Suck it up. Chin up. Push those feelings back down.

  “Yes?” I manage although my throat is dry and my heart hammers.

  “Should I have said something else?” Robert asks me and I don’t have an answer.

  Yes, a voice from a younger me pleads. My head shakes, attempting to silence the decade-long thoughts.

  “Tell me what I should do,” he commands me although his tone is pleading. “Mags, please,” he says, ignoring a patron who’s brushed beside him and the clatter of glasses bumping against one another on a tray being carried off in the distance.

  Not a word leaves me,
because I don’t have any. Life doesn’t prepare you for moments like this. I’m barely surviving all by myself.

  I can’t manage to utter a darn word. Not a single one.

  Robert’s soft blue eyes meet mine, searching for something and in that moment, the crowd doesn’t exist. There’s no music, there’s not a soul to distract us. I hope he can feel what I feel. It’s torture, is what it is. That’s what this kind of love is, it’s torture.

  Brody

  Griffin’s nervous tapping is grating on my last nerve. His thumb is making a constant tap, tap, tap on the side of his plastic cup. It’s a custom plastic Solo cup. The date of our opening is boasted in thick black font on the signature red cups. If I had to name one thing I’ve learned about Griffin in the last month, it’s that he’s damn good with marketing.

  Tonight has three purposes:

  To give this town a taste of our draft beers, sold exclusively here.

  Drive home the date we’re opening.

  Kiss Magnolia and make damn sure she knows how much I want her.

  If driving up to Pennsylvania and back taught me anything, it’s that I missed her. “We should’ve gone to the art thing,” Griffin comments as another car door opens and a chick with a wide-brimmed sun hat climbs out, although the sun has long since set.

  My side-eye is strong at that remark. The bar is packed. Inside and out.

  “Renee will be here,” I reply and then stare at the empty cup in his hand. There’s no doubt in my mind this place will be littered with them tomorrow when everyone leaves. Not that I give a shit about anything at this very moment other than Magnolia getting here. I’ll worry about cleaning up when the time comes tomorrow.

  “They’re right down the street, we should have swung by.”