Brew Ha Ha Box Set: Books 1-4

by Bria Quinlan

  “Okay.”

  “Really?” Now he sounded surprised.

  “I think so.”

  I walked on, considering I had so much to learn about myself. It was an almost frightening idea. It was like being a freshman in college all over again, but everyone else already had asked themselves these simple little questions.

  I was a freshman at life.

  Two blocks past my apartment, Max turned down a side street and crossed us out of our neighborhood toward one of the colleges. The beautiful oak trees stopped lining the road and the quaint lights turned into normal streetlights. After another two blocks, he motioned toward a building with a sign in Spanish.

  “We’re here.” He pulled open the door, and heat and spices and music rushed over me like he’d opened a portal to another world. “I hope you like to salsa.”

  Salsa? I had a sick, sad feeling he wasn’t talking about chips.

  Inside the door, the bouncer stamped Max’s hand and asked to see my ID. I pulled it out of the tiny wallet I’d stuck in my back pocket and waited while he stamped a blue star on my hand.

  Max glanced over the heads of the girls standing in our way before he took my hand and pulled me through the crowd to the far end of the room. The music was quieter in the corner, but he still needed to speak up to be heard.

  As we neared, a short man with two earrings in each ear spotted us and opened his arms as if he was going to hug Max. He came forward, his gaze dropping to where Max’s hand was wrapped around mine.

  “Maximo! You’re here to dance with your lady.”

  His lady?

  “Jorgie, this is my friend, Kasey.” He beat me to the punch. “We’re just here for the music tonight.”

  “No, no, no. You must dance. Everyone who comes in must enjoy the music on the floor. I will get you special song played later. Something easy to move to, si? Your lady has hips to move I see, no?”

  Max glanced down at my hips, his lips quirked up on one side. Luckily he realized there was no right answer to that question.

  “Just to listen. Julian Delgado is playing tonight, right?”

  “Si, si. You never sit when they play. You’ll be out there.” Jorgie winked at me and headed toward the bar, pointing one of the waitresses our way.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “You don’t—”

  “I know. I don’t have to buy. But, here’s the deal. Tonight is on me. If you want to do something some other time, I’ll let you take me out. But there’s a difference between being independent and being a pain in the ass. Now,” he threw his arm around the back of my chair and leaned in, “stop being a difficult person to be around. What do you want to drink?”

  I knew what he was saying. I hated that person, the one who made everything difficult. I guess finding the line between independence and pest was going to be harder than I thought. I was already trying to figure out where I’d want to take Max out when I realized he’d just tricked me into another night out. Maybe I’d treat him to an afternoon volunteering at a homeless shelter.

  Of course, he probably already did that.

  “Quit over-thinking, Tuesday. It’s just a drink.”

  “Right.” I glanced around at the atmosphere and the dancers and the light-wood bar on the far side of the room. “Sangria. This seems like a Sangria night.”

  “Is this another test or do you like Sangria?”

  “I’ve had it before.” Once. In undergrad. In Mexico. I’m sure it was totally going to be the same.

  Max waved the waitress over and ordered a Corona and Sangria before leaning back in.

  “Latón de Delgado is a favorite. You’re going to love them.” He grinned, that darn dimple peeking out. “They have lots of flavor.”

  I don’t think I’d ever heard a band with flavor. It made me think of those scratch and sniff stickers from when I was a kid. Was there such a thing as listen and lick?

  Okay, that just sounded gross.

  On the stage, a group of men in black suits began setting up. Up front, a couple led a group of about fifteen people in what looked like a basic lesson. I watched, wondering if I should be up there learning. Was this something I’d enjoy? Had I been missing out on this?

  “Do you want to go take the class?”

  I turned my head, expecting Max to be over in his chair, but somehow he’d moved closer. Right next to me. I’d already been rethinking the dance lesson when I remembered I was completely uncoordinated and Max had already seen that in action…and my nearly naked butt in the process.

  I glanced back toward where guys led the women across their bodies and into what looked like a very smooth turn. I imagined myself trying to walk past a guy that closely without falling over his foot, raising my arm past his face without breaking his nose, and walking under his arm without sticking my face in his armpit. “Um, maybe…not.”

  “Come on, Tuesday.” He leaned in further, speaking right into my ear. “You’re not afraid, are you? I won’t let you do anything embarrassing.”

  I was trying to decide if that was better or worse than taking the lesson alone. Before I could come up with a snappy comeback—which with my luck would have happened next week—the music switched off and a man on the stage tapped the mic.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We’re Latón de Delgado.” And with that, he nodded once and the music came on live and loud. The floor was packed before the first line ended.

  I watched, fascinated while the waitress laid our drinks out on the table and chatted with Max. I glanced up in time to see her lean far enough over to make sure he could confirm the color of the bra she was wearing as she thanked him for the tip. Max smiled at her, no dimple, and turned back toward me.

  I quirked an eyebrow at him and grinned as the color rushed up his neck. For once he had no stoic look. He just turned back toward the dancers. His free hand rested on the table, the lead finger tapping in time to the music, his shoulders occasionally doing a little side to side like he was out there leading some girl around the floor. You could tell he loved this. I’d hate for him to miss the fun because I didn’t dance.

  “You can go dance.”

  Max shifted to look at me, his brows pulled down in what I’d finally figured out was a question.

  “Dance.” I pointed at the floor. “You can go dance if you want.”

  He shook his head, and shifted back around. I went back to watching the couples, amazed at how well some of them moved together, as if they could read each other’s minds. Beside me, Max was all but dancing in his chair. Somehow, while being completely still, he was vibrating off energy to the music.

  After two songs, the singer brought it back down and was speaking to the audience in Spanish.

  “Do you want another drink?”

  I glanced at my half-full Sangria. It wasn’t my thing, but I was enjoying the change.

  “No, thanks. I’m still good.”

  I watched Max make his way to the bar. I watched other women watch Max make his way to the bar.

  With a fresh eye, I studied him. He wasn’t as good-looking as a lot of guys in the room. He wasn’t pretty or handsome. He wasn’t really rugged. All those catch words people used to describe heroes didn’t fit him. He looked confident. He looked strong. His looks were classic without falling over into the category of a Kennedy or George Clooney. He was all clean lines and strong jaw and unreadable dark eyes.

  But, when he moved…He moved like a man sure of his place in the world. A man who knew he could handle anything that came his way. And, unfortunately, he had the body to back it up. That lean, compact strength folded under those wide, powerful shoulders. No wonder we were all looking.

  A woman pushed her way through the crowd to meet him at the bar, slowing her step to time it so she got there just in time. I watched as he smiled at her and she laid a hand on his arm. They chatted and she made a motion toward the dance floor.

  It was about that time my fingernails were beginning to mak
e little dents in my palms where my fists were clenched. I loosened them up, trying to shake my hands out without making it obvious.

  Max wasn’t mine. I didn’t want him to be. Because, if he was mine then I was his. And, I wasn’t ready to belong to anyone again. Max couldn’t even handle letting me make my own dinner when I didn’t feel well. I doubted if we were dating that he’d be able to deal with boundaries.

  Not that I was considering dating Max.

  Also, Max seemed to think I was nuts, so even if I did want to date him I was pretty much out of luck since he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to go looking for a girl with the character trait of crazy-pants. So, it was totally a good thing that I wasn’t considering dating Max.

  And everything would just be fine if that girl in the super short skirt would take her hand off his arm.

  Max shook his head and pointed back toward the table, obviously telling the hot, short-skirted girl that he couldn’t go out on the floor and dance the sexy dance with her because he had to babysit the crazy pants at his table.

  This was humiliating.

  Max pulled his wallet out and paid for the drinks, grabbing them and giving the girl a smile as he headed back.

  Well, this was going to be awkward.

  Another song ended just as he dropped down into his chair.

  “Are you having a good time?”

  I was. I was totally having fun. I loved the music and was awed by the couples on the floor. The moves were gorgeous and sexy while still being fun and spontaneous. And, I liked being there with Max. It wasn’t lost on me that he was nodding off girls who glanced his way who he probably danced with all the time. That he’d blown off hot, flippy skirt girl at the bar. That he’d come back to sit with me.

  “I am, but…” The guilt started to punch at me about him sitting with me all night. “Why don’t you dance? I mean, I can totally just hang out here and listen to the music for a bit while you get out there.”

  “I didn’t come to dance.”

  My gaze slipped back to him and I couldn’t help but feel the intensity of his focus.

  I tried to see him outside of the light of Jason and his circle of fans. I studied him, studied the set of him and what I knew about him and tried to add it all up into something whole that I may have not seen—or ignored. How was I supposed to know? How could I judge if he was just another guy who was controlling and manipulative? Where was the line between controlling and being just a take-charge guy who wanted the best for me? Would a take charge guy know when to let me be in charge? Would it be a constant struggle? Would I ever—

  “What?” Max asked interrupting my disturbing thought process.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking.” I tried not to blush, tried not to look at him any differently than I had a moment ago.

  But, Max being Max he could probably read my mind. Or at least guess what I was thinking, because, as the band took the stage again, he winked at me before dropping his arm across the back of my chair and turning back to the dance floor.

  The music came back up as couples filled the floor. A petite woman wove through the crowd, waving at Max before she even got to us. Max stood, stooping to kiss her on the cheek, obvious affection between them, but no chemistry.

  I was glad because I’m not sure my nails would withstand another round of trying to split my palms open again. Not to mention that I was annoyed and confused enough.

  Max introduced Eva and she started talking a mile a minute about learning salsa and meringue and how Max was one of the more patient guys who could actually dance and something about a cross body lead. It was clear she was hoping to get him out on the floor and was afraid to ask with me there, that she couldn’t figure out what was going on between us.

  I almost told her to join the club.

  “Why don’t you guys practice that move?” I suggested and grinned as the younger woman all but bounced on her toes.

  Max looked down at me next to him, another one of his unreadable looks as he studied me.

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “No. Of course not.” And found I really didn’t. Eva was sweet and obviously thoughtful considering she didn’t try to seduce my date—non-date—out from under me. “It sounds like Eva’s been waiting all week to see if she’s nailed this move.”

  I looked up at him, trying not to notice how dark his eyes were and how intensely they studied me before that dimple broke out again.

  “You’re something else, Tuesday.”

  Before I could figure out what that meant, he offered Eva his hand and led her out onto the floor. They stayed at the edge, a more than comfortable distance between them, as Max patiently led her back and forth on the floor, every once in a while doing something with his hand that pulled her across the front of him and turned her about. Then back to the back and forth steps. One-two-three. One-two-three.

  Compared to some of the overtly sexual dancing going on behind them, their little spins seemed almost sweet, with Max correcting her and letting her try again. After they’d done that a few times, he did some fancy thing where she spun half way around and did a little kick before coming back.

  When the song came to an end, they both clapped politely before Max’s hand dropped to her waist to guide her back to our table.

  It was, unfortunately, one of the cutest things I’d ever seen. It was kitten worthy.

  I was one cute thing away from insomnia.

  Eva was talking a mile a minute when they got back, but she turned to me and thanked me for letting her use Max for practice, before taking off into the crowd again.

  Max settled into the chair, a bit pink around the ears at the obvious adoration.

  “You should have her hang out with Abby.” I knocked his shoulder to get his attention. “Maybe they’d cancel each other out a bit.”

  “At seventeen, Abby’s probably about thirty-seven years older than Eva.”

  I laughed because it was probably true, but also because I was suddenly nervous. I wasn’t sure what to do about the fact that I was wearing date clothes on what felt like it was a date with a guy I swore I wasn’t going to date but couldn’t seem to stay away from.

  Max leaned in, really leaned in this time. And, not as if he were just going to say something and it was loud. I fought to keep my gaze from dropping to his lips, but my eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he tried to kiss me. There was something about Max that pulled you in, but I hadn’t wanted to find anyone.

  I wanted to find me.

  I was feeling more lost by the moment.

  “Max.”

  It took me a moment to drag my gaze off him to the woman standing over us. Max’s focus stayed on me, blocking her out. But, she obviously wasn’t going anywhere. At some point, Max’s hand had landed on my knee, drawing us together, connecting us. He gave my knee a little squeeze and turned to look up at the woman who still hadn’t gotten the hint and gone away.

  As soon as that focus was off me, I could breathe again.

  I could also panic again.

  Everything was shifting and I wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Olivia.” Max sounded annoyed. It wasn’t a normal sound for him and it made me pause, pulled me back outside of myself and my anxiety.

  “You promised me a dance next time you were in.” Olivia lifted her hand to her hip, turning sideways in her little flippy skirt as if she were on a fashion shoot.

  “I’m here with someone.” Max lifted his arm and let it settle across the back of my chair, leaning into me, his warmth seeping into me even with the heat of the club.

  “You danced with Eva.”

  “Yes. I did.”

  I watched the interplay, wondering what my role in it was supposed to be, but suddenly feeling like I needed some time away from him. That some distance would definitely give me the perspective I was rapidly losing.

  “You know what?” I stood and looked between them. “I have to run to the ladies room. I’ll be
back in a few minutes.”

  Max stared at me as if I’d abandoned him to hordes of angry zombies.

  I felt a stab of guilt, but I hadn’t told him to dance with her. I hadn’t given her permission to dance with him—as if I had the power or right to do that. I’d just…abstained.

  And escaped.

  I definitely escaped.

  I pushed my way through the overheated crowd almost rushing to where the ladies room sign glowed on the far side of the stage. Once I got to every woman’s hideout, I shut the door behind me and splashed water on my face wondering where this night had gone so wrong.

  Probably the date clothes. They were the reason everything felt so up in the air.

  Just like Jason had taught me to dress for the job I wanted, I’d accidentally dressed for the man I was out with. I had to get myself under control.

  I couldn’t deny I was attracted to Max—more than that, I was drawn to him.

  That was the most frightening part. If I had this draw, if I was pulled toward him, could I trust myself to know if he was safe? He got extra safety points for Jenna and Hailey both vouching for him. Ben seemed like a solid guy, so there was one more. And Dane—okay, maybe not Dane. Who knew what that guy thought was a trustworthy man?

  Luckily, I didn’t need to make a decision tonight. I just needed to enjoy myself.

  I came out of the ladies room and glanced across the room to see if Max was still fighting off Olivia. Instead, I found them fairly quickly on the dance floor, her all but wrapped around him, the heat of the dance so fiery I could feel it from where I stood.

  So, I did what any insane woman would do. I headed for the bar.

  With the majority of people on the dance floor, it was easy to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey, sweetness. What can I get you tonight?”

  “I don’t know. Something sweet and not too strong.”

  “Sure thing.” He went to the far end of the bar and poured something from a pitcher into a little glass. “Here you go. It’s a fruit sip.”

  Well, that sounded good. I took a sniff of sweetness before taking a sip. It tasted like pineapple and flowers. Which, hello. Why had I never heard of these fruity sipper things before?