Moonshine in a Mason Jar

by Kimbra Swain

  “I haven’t decided, because basically any one of them will do. I just need a release,” she said.

  I had to keep from raising my hand in the air and begging, “Oh, oh, let it be me.” Desperate wasn’t attractive.

  She seemed more open than usual. I decided to see how far I could get her to talk to me. “Why don’t you find a nice guy and settle down?”

  “You know why I can’t do that! I don’t want to be a trophy wife to an aged fucker that takes a blue pill to get it up while I live on, carrying on with the libido of a rabbit. Besides, the Sanhedrin don’t take kindly to cavorting with mortals long term,” she said lowering her voice. The whole diatribe was hilarious. “It’s better this way.”

  “Sounds lonely,” I said.

  “Incredibly,” she admitted. All the suppressed feelings I had for her bubbled to the surface with the admission that she was lonely. “But now, you’ve blown my stride. I’m going to go home and try again tomorrow or something. I’m sorry about Stephanie. Is there anything I can do?”

  Shit. I had to keep her here. “You could do a lot of things for me, Grace,” I smiled at her. I knew my smile was a weakness. Her eyes would light up whenever I flashed her one. It always made me feel good.

  I swear she almost blushed. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. I meant like cook you some chicken soup or something.” As if chicken soup healed a broken heart. God bless her.

  I stood up, offered her my hand and said, “Dance with me, Grace.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Dylan. I’m going home,” she said, but her eyes told me something very different. She wanted to dance with me.

  “No, you aren’t. You owe me. I went home and confronted her like you told me to. Now you have to do something for me. Dance with me,” I said, giving her no other option.

  “Aw, hell, you mother-fucker,” she cussed me. Damn, vulgar mouth. I had her now. If I pulled her close to me, her hormones would kick in and she would be putty.

  I leaned close to her as her fingers spread across my chest. “Thank you, Grace,” I whispered in her ear.

  “For what? I’m just dancing because you made me,” she protested, but I knew better.

  “I couldn’t make you do anything. You are dancing with me because you want to dance with me,” I laughed at the fake appalled look on her face. Nestor watched us over her shoulder with a big grin on his face. I felt her body molded to mine. Cool to the touch. I breathed on her neck. I wanted that long-awaited kiss. But not yet. I planted small kisses on her jawline. She practically purred. I felt her body give in to me, even though she was fighting it.

  “Dylan, I don’t want you to kiss me,” she said. For a truthful little fairy, she knew how to fib.

  “I wasn’t. You just had something on your face right here,” I said planting another soft kiss on her jaw.

  “That’s lame, Dylan. You better stop,” she continued to protest. I’d like to see what she would do to make me stop. She wouldn’t but suddenly she pulled away from me.

  “Dylan, a night of meaningless sex isn’t going to make you happy. You should go home and sleep,” she said. She went from kisses on the cheek to sex. Yep, she was there. She wanted it. I could play her game. I was a pro, and she just didn’t know it.

  “I can’t go back there tonight. I’ve got a room down at the Cahaba Motel,” I said, which I had reserved just in case. I didn’t want to take her back to my place. I hoped she would take me to the trailer, but I had the motel room for back-up.

  “Then go to your room and sleep,” she insisted.

  I leaned into her, trying to control my breathing. “Come with me.”

  “No, I respect you too much for that, Dylan,” she said. I wanted to kiss her even more. She was forcing herself to do the right thing, even though all I wanted was the wrong thing.

  “Now who is being lame?” I teased her. “I have an idea.” Keeping her here until she was ready to take me home with her would be my goal.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “A friendly wager,” I said.

  “I don’t bet on sex, Dylan,” she said flat out. Always the sex with this one.

  “No, not like that. Let’s play pool. If you beat me, I give you something. If I beat you, you kiss me,” I offered.

  “No, this is stupid. I don’t want you to give me anything,” she said. My little lying fairy. I deserved every little lie that came out of that mouth.

  “How about I cut your grass for a month?” I offered.

  “You already cut my grass,” she protested. I realized we had drawn the attention of a lot of the people in the bar. They sipped their drinks and talked quietly, but they watched.

  “I know, but I’ll do it for free. And if I win, I swear, all I want is a kiss,” I said. A lie for a lie.

  “This is stupid, Dylan. If you think that one kiss from you would make me want to sleep with you, then you are wrong,” she said. I wasn’t wrong. I knew my talents and skills. I only needed one kiss. The one I’ve been waiting for since I met her.

  “I don’t think that at all,” I scoffed, but I leaned down over her lips. She trembled in my arms. I saw the panic in her eyes. She thought I was going to do it right there. “I just want to taste you,” I said loud enough for people to hear.

  “Fuckedy, fuck,” she swore, pushing away from me. Several of the guys from the sheriff’s department got a good laugh at her. “All of you, shut up. This doesn’t concern you.” She pointed at all of them as they snickered.

  “That’s fine. You are afraid you can’t beat me,” I said, playing on her emotions.

  “I’m not falling for this bullshit, Dylan Riggs,” she said. She was flustered. It was adorable. “Charge my card, Ness.” He made eye contact with me. I nodded hoping he wouldn’t charge her for all of it. I had him put it on my tab. He grinned at me. “Don’t encourage him, Nestor.”

  She wouldn’t look at me as she leaned on the bar waiting on Nestor. I flashed her a grin. “I never considered you to be a chicken,” I prodded.

  “That’s not going to work either,” she said signing the credit receipt without a look at it. She waited to see if I had another play in my pocket. I did, but I hated to use it. Desperate times.

  She turned to go to the door, and I waited for the perfect moment for dropping my Hail Mary on her. “Damn. It’s your fault. You owe me,” I said, essentially blaming her for my break up with Stephanie. Even though she didn’t know the whole truth. I played it to my advantage. “She would still be here if it weren’t for you.” Grace was always the reason Stephanie and I wouldn’t work. And if Grace didn’t live in this town, Stephanie’s activities probably wouldn’t have bothered me. I had been with her to give me an heir. With Grace, I wanted to give her everything. Heir or no.

  I saw her shoulder slump in surrender. That’s right. Come back to me, my little fairy. “Damn it, Dylan!” she shouted at the door.

  I walked up behind her and put my arms around her waist. Her body felt so good. “I figured it out, Gracie. I just had to play on your heart.”

  “I don’t have a heart.”

  “Yes, you do.” A big, wanting heart. A heart I longed to have as my own. “Now, come play pool with me. Nestor, pour her two more shots.”

  “Sheriff, I think you are trying to get me drunk,” she said. I was pretty sure it would take a lot more than she had tonight to get drunk, but I wasn’t sure. She started to get loud. Making a scene. It turned me on, making me want her more. She didn’t know it, but this game was Rigged. I started to use that line on her, but I figured it was too groan-worthy.

  “I’ve seen you play. It’s the only way I win,” I said. I had never seen her play, but Nestor told me she was good. She sauntered through our spectators, drawing each man’s attention as she went by. Grace was in full seductress mode. They were all enthralled. She leaned into the last one whispering something in his ear that I couldn’t hear, but he shivered. I held back, hoping he didn’t touch her. I looked hard into his face. I couldn
’t even remember his name at the moment, but I wanted him to know that if he even looked at her wrong, I would beat his face in.

  “You go ahead and break, Dylan. I’ll give you a head start because once I get the table. You won’t get it back,” she boasted. When she leaned back on the bar, her shirt with the low-cut front slid to each side. Full side-boob times two. I gawked. The guy on the bar stool next to me gawked. I swatted him with the pool stick before I could stop myself.

  Pool was a game I could own. There were friction and heat in the table with the bouncing balls, and if there was anything in this world I knew, it was heat. The talent came from my supernatural abilities but required no magic casting. It was pure instinct and ability. I struck the cue ball, sending balls flying around the table. Not one, but two stripes fell.

  “Looks like it’s stripes, boys,” I called out to the crowd. They laughed and joked. Grace downed the first tequila. I watched her carefully. I had plans for that second one. She twirled her necklace around her finger. The two ends slapped the exposed parts of her breasts as she did. I noticed, but I chose to ignore it. I had a bigger prize to win. And it wasn’t simply a kiss. I wanted it all. One by one, I methodically worked my way around the table without a slip or misstep. I sank each striped ball until the table was full of solids.

  “Well, I declare, Dylan Riggs. I didn’t know you were a shark,” she said. I saw the look of defeat in her eyes. It didn’t matter which one of us won this game. I came here for her. I was going to win her. I winked at her and hit the ball to the eight ball. Rolling to the edge of the pocket, I had placed it perfectly. It sat there with the whole room staring at it. Including Grace.

  “Damn. It’s your turn, Grace,” I said. She stared at me trying to figure out if I did it on purpose. I had, but it was too damn good to claim it. She turned to the last tequila, and I rushed to her side. “You know you are doing this wrong,” I said pressing my body against her back. She paused before she threw down the drink.

  “I am not. I don’t need some sissy chaser,” she said.

  “No, honey, it’s the salt,” I said. I wrapped my hand around her wrist bringing it to my mouth. I licked her wrist. It tasted like cold apples. She wiggled at the touch of my tongue. My dick hardened with her movements. I knew she could feel me.

  “You let go of me. Get your nasty tongue off my wrist,” she panted. I wondered if nasty tongue was code for something else.

  “Grace, watch,” I said sternly. I poured salt over her wrist and commanded, “Lick it.”

  The guys behind me teased her. “Yeah, Grace, lick it. We dare you.” It was hilarious, but I had to keep my composure.

  “The lot of you hush your mouths,” she hissed. She licked her wrist and downed the tequila. She looked back at me, realizing that all I had done was get her off balance. “Fuck you, Dylan.”

  I laughed. “I wish you would.”

  At that point, pink fire spread across her cheeks and down her neck. She panted again with the flushness. I wanted to bend her over that pool table, except for the unfortunate fact that we had an audience. I wanted her to myself. She looked so damn good flustered. My mind went wild thinking of the ways I could do that to her in private. “Give me that stick,” she said.

  “Which one?” I continued to tease. She knew I had two.

  “I only see one,” she sneered. I grabbed my belt while the guys laughed. I’d never pull it out here, but she panicked. “Don’t you dare!” she warned me.

  She focused on the table, while I watched. She lined up each shot, delicately curving her body over the table, but never touching it. I had placed the eight ball where if she barely jostled the table, it would fall. Eventually, she had only the eight-ball left. Barring some intervention, she was going to beat me. It didn’t matter. She was already mine.

  She wagged her ass to the boys on the stools. They all got in a good look. She leaned low over the table. The shirt did nothing to keep her breasts concealed. Damn, they were perfect. I eyed them without caring if she saw. I wanted her to know that I wanted it.

  She moved to strike the cue ball, but just before she hit it, the entrance door to the bar slammed. I looked at it, then back to her. She missed the eight ball completely.

  “Mother fucker!” she yelled before launching into a tizzy. “Who slammed that door?” Everyone laughed at her. I felt a little bad, but part of knowing Grace was knowing that she loved the attention to a point. I wouldn’t let it get out of hand. I looked at Nestor, who had a twinkle in his eye. I was pretty sure I owed him one. She looked at the door closely. I knew she looked at it with her fairy sight. “What the hell?”

  “Come back over here, Grace. You should watch this. No excuses. You missed,” I said ready to end it. It was time for both of us to go.

  “Go ahead, Dylan. Get it over with before I cut out of here,” she warned me.

  “A deal is a deal, Grace,” I reminded her. She was a fairy. She made a deal, and she had to keep it. I had her by rights.

  “Shut up and hit the damn ball,” she huffed.

  I barely tapped the cue ball, which in turn barely hit the eight. The black ball tumbled into the pocket. I had won. I paid Nestor quickly. She stood there rigid waiting for me to collect. The guys in the room cheered me on. What she didn’t know was that I had waited for this kiss for a very long time, and there was no way I was getting it in front of a crowd of hoodlums.

  “Just do it, Dylan,” she muttered. I wrapped her up in my arms, leaning quickly to her lips, but I smiled, feeling her twist in my arms. I released her, and her wound up energy caused her to stumble.

  “Come on, Grace. I’ll walk you home,” I said, offering her my hand. She looked confused, and the guys in the bar knew the show was over.

  “Why don’t you do it? Is it because you cheated?” she asked quietly.

  “I didn’t cheat. The door slammed. How is that my fault?” I asked.

  “Because I can see the residual,” she said. So, Nestor’s trick left a mark.

  I wanted to be honest. “It wasn’t me, Grace. I swear. Let me walk you home.”

  The guys jeered me, but I ignored them. This game was never about them. It was about her. It was about us.

  We walked out into the cool night air together. Without even thinking, I wrapped my jacket around her shoulders. It was a silly thing to do. I knew the cold wouldn’t bother her, but I did have a few chivalrous bones in my body. Just not the one between my legs.

  “Um, thanks,” she muttered.

  “Do you hate me?” I blurted out.

  “What? No, it was kind of fun. At least it got your mind off things,” she said.

  “Yes, and onto others,” I said.

  “Dylan, don’t walk me home. If you think you can walk me home and get a kiss at my door I’ll automatically let you in, you are sadly mistaken, Buck-o,” she teased. Her strong finger pressed into my chest. She wanted to touch me.

  “I’m not going to kiss you, Grace,” I said taking her hand. It occurred to me that if she didn’t let me in, then all I would get was one kiss. It would be torture. More than I had endured. Before I realized it, I had her by the hand, willing her to her trailer.

  “Wasn’t that the point?” she asked.

  As a matter of fact, it wasn’t. “No.”

  “Then why did you do that? Is it because you didn’t want me seducing one of those idiots and taking them home with me?” Yes, that was part of it.

  “No, Grace. Walk with me,” I said, trying to sort out my frustrations. I was going to botch this.

  “It’s because I had too much to drink,” she said. It was as good a reason as any of the rest of them.

  “Yes,” I said, hoping she would drop it.

  “Aw, come on, it’s just a kiss,” she said, stopping in her tracks. No, it wasn’t just a kiss. Not for me, it wasn’t.

  Time to man up. “If it’s the only one I ever get from you, forgive me if I don’t want it to be a half-drunk kiss,” I said.

  She seeth
ed. It was the wrong thing to say. “Foolish romantic notion,” she said, jerking her hand away from me. She stomped off away from me toward her trailer. “You don’t have to walk me home, Dylan. I can get there on my own.”

  I couldn’t stop following her. It was like I was tethered to her by my own heart. She muttered the whole way. Blessing me out under her breath. Part of me wanted her to reject me. I deserved it for letting her go so many times. Was this the right moment? I was torn.

  She spun around on me once we reached her place. “I don’t know what the hell kind of bull shit that was back there, Dylan Riggs, but you steer clear of me! I wish you would just kiss me and go,” she shouted.

  Her protest had changed. She wanted me to kiss her now. All hope wasn’t lost. “Now you want me to kiss you?” I asked.

  “Yes, I want you to do it,” she said confidently. Defiant even in surrender.

  “Earlier you explicitly said you didn’t want me to kiss you while we danced. Now you want me to. How do I know that isn’t just the alcohol talking?” I teased.

  “It takes a lot to get me drunk, Dylan. I might feel the tequila, but I assure you I’m in control. Just kiss me,” she said. No, honey. I was in control.

  “Now you are begging me,” I said.

  “It’s not like you think,” she protested.

  “What do I think, Grace?” I said using her name. She had said mine plenty. I figured she liked saying it. I was going to make her scream it. A smile crossed my face with the thought of it.

  “That it means something,” she said.

  “It does to me,” I said honestly.

  “Well, it doesn’t to me,” she said, but her eyes and body told me a different story. I traced my finger down her cool cheek. I saw the goosebumps raise on her skin. Oh, yes, it meant something to her too. Her breathing deepened.

  “Dylan, don’t do this,” she rasped.

  “I have no delusions, Grace. I know you won’t give your heart to me. Forgive me, if I just want you to want to kiss me,” I admitted. The heart part would come later. I needed to speak her language right now. Talk to that fairy inside of her that desperately wanted to get laid. To have that intimate connection with someone. I cupped her cheek, as she leaned into it. I waited for her to make up her mind.