One Tequila

by Tricia O'Malley

  “Um, hello?”

  “I downloaded a location app onto your phone the other day. As long as it was on, I'd be able to find you.”

  “I like you,” Beau said and I whipped my head around to glare at him.

  “That's an invasion of my privacy.”

  “One that saved your butt. And I got to play with a big gun,” Beau said gleefully, turning to Luna to tell her about his gun.

  I sighed, rolling my eyes, and turned back to Cash.

  “I'm not really okay with you doing that. But now I kind of have to be since you saved our lives.”

  “Well, you saved us, too.” Trace spoke up and I turned to him, not sure what we could say in front of Cash.

  Then again, who was I to hide anything? If the man wanted to date me, well, he'd better get real comfortable with the real me.

  “The breaking spell worked,” I said, turning to Luna, and she beamed at me.

  “I knew it would. Thank God you listened to me for once and learned it.”

  Cash cleared his throat. “Breaking spell?”

  “Luna's a white witch. We do spells sometimes,” I said simply, watching his face for any reactions.

  “Spells.”

  “Yes. In fact, she taught me a breaking spell that allowed me to not only break through our wrist zip-ties, but the door as well,” I said cheerfully, leaning over to clink my glass against hers again.

  “The door, too? Hmm, you may have more power than you realize, girl,” Luna said thoughtfully.

  “I do?” I said, tilting my head at her, having never considered that I might carry a little magic with me as well.

  “You may. You've already got some considerable skills in other realms, so it wouldn't surprise me if you have a touch of magic too,” she mused, pursing her lips as she thought about it.

  “Magic,” Cash repeated.

  “Yup, magic. How cool is that?” I asked, daring him to say something negative.

  “Somehow, this does not surprise me,” he said on a sigh and then clinked his glass against mine, causing me to beam at him.

  “Told you I liked him,” Beau said.

  “That guy,” Trace muttered into his drink.

  “That may explain that little explosion on the beach then.” Cash frowned, leaning back to cross his arms across his broad chest. I couldn't help but drink in the view of his muscular arms as I looked at him.

  “Yeah, what the heck was that?” Trace said, leaning forward to look at me.

  “Miss Elva gave me a protection pouch. She told me to use it when I needed it,” I said.

  “You didn't think to use it earlier?” Trace said in disgust.

  “It may have slipped my mind,” I said, my nose in the air.

  “Was it a bomb?” Beau asked.

  “It, well, it turned out to be a really big stink bomb,” I admitted and Luna snorted into her drink.

  “I love that woman,” she said as the others began to laugh.

  “She wants to meet with you, by the way.”

  “I'll go to her this week.”

  “Hey! How did you get out of jail?”

  “Ah, well, it seems the FBI got an anonymous tip with some email messages that were hacked from Dupree's account.” Luna turned to raise her eyebrow at Cash who held up his hands in protest.

  “I hope you aren't insinuating that I would hack into an officer of the law's account?” Cash asked.

  “Not me,” Beau said.

  “Of course not,” I said, fighting to keep a smile off my face.

  Epilogue

  An hour later, Cash's phone beeped with an incoming message.

  “They got them. All of them. They want me to come in to answer some questions now, and they'll need you guys at the station first thing tomorrow,” Cash said, nodding his head toward Trace and me.

  “Yay!” I shouted, deliriously happy that it had all worked out.

  Beau looked around at all of us and then stood.

  “Come on, Trace, Luna, I'll drop you two off on the way to the restaurant. I have some serious catching up to do,” he said, standing and stretching. Bending over, he dropped a kiss on my cheek.

  “Wait here,” I said to Cash and followed them to my front door, stepping onto the porch and closing the door behind me.

  “I'll go to the store tomorrow while you go to the station,” Luna said, giving me another quick squeeze before following Beau to his car.

  Trace turned to look at me and I smiled at him, reaching up to run my hand lightly over the bruise on his face.

  “I'm sorry you got hurt,” I said softly, bringing my hand down to my side.

  “Not your fault,” Trace said and then paused. His eyes met mine and my heart clenched a bit in my chest.

  “That guy?” he said, gesturing with his thumb towards where Cash sat inside.

  “Yes?”

  “He's alright,” he said.

  “Oh, Trace,” I said, incredibly sad but not knowing why.

  “Hey, it's okay. We're friends first. Friends always. Tell him to stay on his toes though. Because I'll steal you in a heartbeat,” Trace said softly, bending over to brush his lips softly over mine.

  “Thanks, Trace,” I whispered, clenching my lips together as he walked down the porch steps and hopped into the back seat of Beau's car. A cheerful honk from them propelled me back inside.

  Suddenly nervous, I walked slowly back to where Cash stood by the counter. He'd cleaned up outside and was currently rinsing the glasses in the sink.

  You had to love a guy who did the dishes, I thought, then mentally slapped myself for saying the word love. There was no love. Not yet at, least. As I eyed him up while he smiled at me over the sink, I realized that for once, though, there was a strong potential.

  “All good?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah, so good,” I said, leaning on the counter next to him.

  “Listen,” Cash said as he wiped his hands on a towel and turned to stand in front of me, his arms caging me at the counter.

  “Yes?” I asked, tilting my face up to him in a smile. Lord, was this man devastating.

  “I have to go back to Miami tomorrow. One of my clubs has had a series of break-ins. I'll be back soon. And when I do, I'm coming for you, Althea Rose.”

  “I'll take your word for it,” I said, my voice full of challenge, leaning in as he slid his lips over mine, heating me with just his touch.

  Oh yeah. I was doomed.

  Read an Excerpt from Tequila for Two: An Althea Rose Novel

  “What's up with that? I asked, straining my eyes at the line of people approaching our shop.

  “Pagan festival this weekend.” Luna shrugged her delicate shoulders, tucking a strand of her wispy blonde hair behind her ear. Clad in white linen with the highest cheekbones I had ever seen, she was all elegance and grace. If I were casting for a white witch in a play, she would fit the part.

  In more ways than looks.

  Me, on the other hand? Well, I'm a little more well-rounded and eccentric, I suppose. This month I'd darkened the hot pink streaks in my curls to more of a deep lavender color, and white clothes and I do not mix. Mainly because I don't corner well and have a habit of running into things.

  “Friends of yours?” I asked, knowing that as a white witch – yes, a real one – Luna had some roots in paganism.

  “Not that I'm aware of,” Luna hummed, raising a delicate eyebrow.

  “How did we not know there was a pagan festival this weekend?”

  “It was in the weekly paper.” Luna shrugged.

  “You know I've sworn off the paper after Craig wrote up that article about you,” I hissed. A month ago Luna had been falsely accused of murder, and even though we'd threatened the local reporter with some pretty inventive curses, he'd still written a fairly accusatory article about Luna. A small retraction printed in the paper after Luna was cleared did little to change my opinion of him.

  “We still need to think up a curse for him,” Luna reminded me.

&n
bsp; “I've got Miss Elva on it,” I said, referring to our resident voodoo priestess. I trusted her implicitly to find the best revenge for this particular situation.

  “That should do it,” Luna agreed, pasting a smile on her face as the line of people grew closer to our shop.

  My name's Althea Rose and together with Luna, we run Luna Rose's Potions & Tarot shop.

  Did I mention that I'm a psychic?

  It runs in the blood, I can't help it. My mother is far more famous than I, flitting from country to country to cater to the famous people she deems worthy of her readings. Oh, she's a diva, that's for sure. Most people would probably say I have a fair share of her attitude but I like to think that I take after my easygoing musician of a father, who has happily followed my mother on her travels.

  Luna snorted. “Easygoing, my ass,” she mumbled and then her polite smile spread across her face again.

  “Stop reading my mind,” I grumbled, moving from the white-and-gold upscale beach cottage elegance of her side of the shop to the velvety purple den of iniquity on my side.

  Okay, so maybe “den of iniquity” is taking it a little far. But my tarot card shop was exactly what you would presume one would be, and there might even be a leopard-print chair tucked away in the corner.

  With a skeleton wearing a Ramones shirt sitting on it.

  Pulling out my phone, I reluctantly googled the local paper to find out more on this pagan festival. Tequila Key wasn't known to be a hot spot for festivals. Or anything, for that matter.

  We were a sleepy little Key, just a speed bump on the way to Key West for tourists. Most people simply pulled to the side of the road to snap a picture by the “Tequila Makes it Better” sign before continuing on down to a livelier Key.

  Any sort of festival was bound to be the talk of the town.

  “The New Crusaders, a revolutionized order of the pagan druids,” I read out loud, raising an eyebrow at my screen. “Sounds like radicals.”

  “Some may call us that,” a voice said to my left and I jumped. I hadn't realized that someone had slipped past my privacy screen to wait politely at the entrance to my shop.

  At least six feet tall and rail thin, a man who reminded me of Gandalf stood at my door. His hair and beard flowed in long gray waves over his forest green cloak, and his feet were encased in butter-smooth leather boots.

  That explained why I hadn't heard his entrance.

  “Hello,” I said, unaccountably wary.

  “Hello, I wanted to see if I could arrange readings for some of my group this weekend.”

  “I'd have to check my schedule,” I said, pointedly not reaching for my schedule. Something about this man's vibe was making me reluctant to help him.

  “I'll wait,” he said with a smile.

  “What's your name?”

  “I am Horace, a founding member,” Horace said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

  “And what is this festival for, exactly?”

  “Why, to celebrate the earth, the sky, the ocean…all the beauty of this natural place,” Horace said, sweeping his hand around in a grand gesture.

  “Tequila Key? Granted we've got a stunning coastline, but we are a fairly cluttered little town if you hadn't noticed.”

  “You've some lovely natural spaces outside of town for us to set up in. You're welcome to come. In fact, I insist,” Horace said, gravely.

  “I'll get back to you on that one, Horace. I'm sorry, but I have a telephone appointment at eleven. I'll get back to you on my availability this weekend. Cheers,” I said, smiling brightly and picking up my phone.

  Horace held my gaze for a moment, his eyes almost silver, before nodding once and padding silently from my room in his leather booties.

  This is going to be bad.

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  Other books by Tricia O'Malley

  The Mystic Cove Series

  A paranormal romance series set on the rocky shores of Ireland

  Wild Irish Roots

  Wild Irish Heart

  Wild Irish Eyes

  Wild Irish Soul

  Wild Irish Rebel

  Wild Irish Roots: Margaret & Sean

  The Stolen Dog

  A non-fiction account of our dog being stolen and how we recovered him. All proceeds go to animal rescues.