Until the Tequila: A Killers Crossover Novella

by Brynne Asher

  “I know this sounds crazy since your dad is here, but what do you think about coming home? I worry about you all the way in Virginia by yourself. You could stay with Wes and me or with my parents. Or, even better, you could stay with Uncle Nico. There’s no way Duane Giesen would get near you. Your dad is practically allergic to the police.”

  I’ve always been alone. Sure, I have friends, clients, and clients who have become friends. Hell, Addy has practically adopted me as a little sister and I’ve gladly allowed it. I love her and the small fold she’s brought me into at the winery. But July is right. I am alone because there’s no way I’m admitting to anyone here about the life I left behind in Tennessee.

  That still doesn’t mean I can pick up and leave. “I have to work. I can barely take a vacation for fear my clients will find someone new to make them beautiful. As tempting as that sounds, picking up and hiding out with the Maysons isn’t an option. I just don’t understand … after all these years, why he’s looking for me now?”

  She sighs. “I knew you were going to say that and I don’t understand, either. None of us can figure out what he wants.”

  The pounding in my head won’t stop, especially now that I not only have to worry about Evan, but also my damn father who’s never acted like one a day in his life. “You have all your furry lovies to tend to and I need a nap. I’ll be fine. Let me know if he skips town and I’ll jump into the Potomac and freestyle it downstream. He never learned how to swim unless he took lessons in prison.”

  “You’re crazy, Mary.”

  I close my eyes and mumble, “Given the humans who made me, this surprises you?”

  She ignores that, probably because she knows it’s the truth. “I’ll keep you up to date on what’s going on here but, dammit, answer your phone.”

  “Go kiss some puppies for me. Puppy breath is the best.”

  “Sleep off your hangover so you can make the world beautiful.”

  I yawn. “Deal.”

  “Deal.”

  July hangs up, but not before I hear her greet a patient in her best doggie voice.

  3

  BROKEN

  Evan

  I STARTED WORKING at the vineyard when I was in college. I didn’t need a job but was bored out of my mind. Per my dad’s demands, I got a degree in business even though I never wanted to work in an office. I also never gave a shit about wine until I got a job here and was basically a catch-all, part-time employee to help out the property caretaker, Morris. I worked in the fields, watched the grapes grow, took part in harvest, and Van taught me about fermentation.

  What I did not do was go to work for my family, who has been in the horse breeding business for generations. That irritated my dad, but since he’ll do anything to make my mom happy and she didn’t give a shit, he got over it. I finished college, not because I was learning anything practical, but because I knew someone with a big stick up their ass would someday value me more because I have a piece of paper in a leather binder stuffed away somewhere in my old room at my parents’ house as proof that they overpaid for a degree at a private university.

  Since then, I worked my way into the tasting room. The last owner was a dumbass and caused a lot of people to quit, so I was promoted to the tasting room manager—for no other reason than there were no other choices. That was right before Addy bought the place. I’ve seen the vineyard change hands three times, but all the owners were hobbyists who thought a winery would be a pretty accessory in their portfolio. That is, until they lost money hand over fist. That’s never a fun hobby.

  But the new owner, Addy Wentworth, actually has more brains than money and has turned the place around. We’re making more than we’re spending, which is a modern miracle. Everyone is happy about it because Addy is cool as shit to work for and making money means we get to keep our jobs.

  Working here is more fun than working for my namesake, so I decided to learn wine and it stuck. I like the people here and, even though it doesn’t pay what my father would if I were managing his breeding business, it’s a good place to be. I don’t need the money anyway. I have a trust from my grandparents that I’ve never even touched.

  The winery has been an even better place to be since Mary started coming around. Addy claims people as her own—hell, I’m one of them. Since the day she took over, our odd-as-hell group has become a close-knit clan that would rival any weird holiday movie.

  “I’ve been waiting for you. How did it go?”

  Speak of my boss, she’s stalking straight for me in a way that has nothing to do with wine. I shrug off my jacket and toss it onto the bar. Pushing my hand through my hair, I try not to think about watching Mary sleep in my bed last night because I have no desire to have to hide my hard-on in front of my boss. “Last night? My steak was good.”

  Her eyes go big. “You know what I mean.”

  I turn away from her and start to dig through my bag for my tablet. “You should ask your friend.”

  “I tried!” Addy is edging on desperate which is odd for her since she usually has her shit together. But her new neighbor, Crew Vega, has been hanging around and she seems off her game. “Mary’s not answering my calls and I know her car was parked here all night.”

  I turn back to her and shake my head. “She had a lot to drink and couldn’t drive home.”

  Addy processes that for a hot second before throwing her next words at me in a way she’s never done before. “Where did you take her?”

  I consider Addy a friend and I’m pretty sure she considers me something like a younger brother. Even so, I know for a fact she and Mary are tight and based on girl code alone, she’d fall on the side of Mary every time, should there ever be sides to fall on, even though I don’t plan on that happening. Still, I don’t like her tone and frown. “You think I’m that kind of asshole?”

  Her expression blanks and, when her hands hit her hips, her eyes narrow. “You know I don’t think you’re an asshole. Mary and I are tight. Besides all of you here at work, she’s the best friend I have in Virginia. As close as we are, I know there are things she holds back from me. If you plan to pursue her, you have to promise it’s because you want more than a fling. She might come off as tough as nails but she’s not. Don’t ask me how I know this, I just do. I feel it.”

  My guess? Addy doesn’t have a clue how close she is to the truth.

  Mary has done her best to avoid me, which has only piqued my interest. She’s been dancing around me with nervous energy, pretending she hates me and doesn’t have a bit of interest. Even though last night didn’t go as I planned, it couldn’t have gone any better because she let loose. The sexual tension I know I’ve felt all this time is there—it’s real, tangible, and, once she let the tequila settle into her bones, the words flowed straight from her soul.

  I still don’t know everything about her, but I know a hell of a lot more than I did yesterday at this time.

  I thought I wanted her before last night.

  I had no fucking clue.

  But today? Today, I need her in a way I can feel in every cell of my body. The petite girl with the mermaid hair who used to make me smile, now makes me ache.

  I look to my boss and tell her the cold, hard truth. “I learned a lot last night and all I’m going to say is you’ve never been more right. She’s not tough as nails and she’s not fragile—she’s broken.”

  Addy’s face falls.

  “Yeah,” I confirm the thoughts written all over her face. I take my tablet and grab my jacket, leaving her with a promise before I head to the office in the back room. “But I’m going to be the one who helps put her back together. Starting today.”

  “Evan?” I’m almost out the door and cringe when Addy calls for me again. I’m not in the mood to have my motives questioned.

  I sigh and look back one more time. “Yeah?”

  In the time I’ve worked for her, I’ve never seen Addy more serious and that’s saying something because she’s a smart and shrewd business woman. �
�Do whatever you have to do and don’t give up. She doesn’t know it but she needs you. Promise me you’ll put her back together and do it with care.”

  That’s an obligation I have no trouble keeping. “I promise.”

  The last thing I see before turning to my office is a sad smile settle onto my boss’s face. I have some calls to make this morning before I start fulfilling that promise sooner rather than later.

  Checking up on Mary’s hangover is a perfect place to start.

  4

  CHERRY STEMS AND LIES

  Mary

  OH FUCK, THE banging.

  It needs to stop.

  The midday sun breaks through my lids and I realize the hammering isn’t coming from inside my head. Someone’s beating on my door. I pick up my cell that’s lying on the bed next to me from where it fell from my sleepy grip when I hung up with July and see it’s only a little after one o’clock.

  I crawl out of bed and shuffle my way through my apartment as the incessant banging continues. Cinching my kimono robe tight, I throw the lock and open the door without checking to see who it is, if for no other reason than to stop the noise.

  The smell hits me first—something greasy and probably from a drive-thru—before I look up and see Evan. After all I put it through last night, my stomach doesn’t turn at the succulent scent of fried food, but instead grumbles. When I look down, he’s holding a huge bag in one hand and a fountain drink in the other, causing my mouth to go dry. If that’s a cheeseburger and Diet Coke, I might fall to my knees and weep.

  “Thought I’d take my lunch hour to check on you and make sure you fed that hangover, but I’ve gotta say, the way you’re lusting after this burger and fries makes me jealous.”

  My eyes jump to his that are hiding behind a pair of Ray-Bans and it’s only from the tilt of his head that I can tell his eyes have dropped to my body.

  “We need to talk about last night,” he adds.

  I lean onto the door and wonder what he’d do if I grabbed the food and slammed the door in his face? I’m starving and don’t want to talk—desperate times call for desperate measures. “We can talk another time, like in a few months at Addy’s Christmas party. I’m sure you have to get back to the tasting room. I hear Monday afternoons are busy.”

  His lips tip on one side because he knows I’m full of shit. The tasting room is closed on Mondays and I’m surprised he was even at work.

  He has the audacity to lift my drink that he’s still holding to his lips and take a pull from the straw as he flicks his shades off. I frown as he teases me with my post-hangover drug. “You know we’re closed today, even though I’d risk Addy firing me for you. There are things I want to know and you’re not getting one french fry until you let me in.”

  My stomach growls and he hears it too because his smirk turns into a smile.

  “You talking is a small price to pay for greasy drive-thru to settle your stomach,” he adds.

  My brow quirks. “It’s rude to talk with your mouth full.”

  “Yeah?” His eyes rake down to my turquoise painted toes one more time before boomeranging back to mine and this time his are intense. “Who taught you that?”

  I nibble on the side of my lip. With the hints he gave me this morning of our date last night, I have a feeling that question holds more weight than its face value. “I learned it while watching reruns of The Brady Bunch on Nick at Nite. Alice was a stickler for table manners.”

  He shakes his head and, transferring the greasy sack to his hand holding my drink, opens it. Without taking his eyes off mine, he reaches in and produces a french fry, tossing it between his full lips, speaking with his mouth full. “I’ve never watched The Brady Bunch. You’ve gotta let me in if you’re hungry, otherwise I’m gonna stand out here and eat it all in front of you.”

  “Is there cheese on that burger?”

  He licks the salt off his fingers. “Yeah. It’s a double.”

  I lick my lips.

  What the hell? I need that burger.

  I start to open my door all the way for him and, just when I am about to ask if he brought me my favorite fountain drink, he moves, forcing me to step back and trip over the shoes I tossed when I got home this morning. He kicks the door shut with his boot and doesn’t stop.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, still moving backward as he advances on me.

  I barely have the chance to sidestep him as he strides toward my kitchen. “You’re going to eat and answer my questions.”

  I follow, watching him fill my space. My apartment is small and dingy and I could afford so much more, but why? It’s just me and I’m fine right here.

  But I have this man in my home—a man I’ve had to pretend doesn’t make me nervous. Evan makes my space seem miniscule.

  I tug on my robe to tighten it and watch him drop his sunglasses, food, and, what I pray is a Diet Coke, on the counter.

  I open the bag and pull out two fries. They practically melt in my mouth they taste so good.

  Evan crosses his arms across his wide chest and leans his hip into the counter, facing me, as I start to dig into the bag.

  “Why did you move to Virginia by yourself when you were eighteen?”

  My jaw freezes mid-chew. That’s not what I expected him to ask, but it is telling as to what I blabbed about last night in my drunken state along with my obsession for pesky flowers.

  I swallow. “See? You think you know so much, but the joke’s on you. I was eighteen and a half.”

  He tips his head. “You’re not nearly as funny now as you are when you’re drunk.”

  I shrug and keep feeding my hangover. The greasy fries are a balm to my queasy stomach. “I don’t tie one on very often, so there’s no reason for you to stick around and experience me sober.” I raise my hand with salt-covered fingers. “Boring to the bone.”

  He ignores me. “Why did you move to the middle-of-nowhere, bum-fuck Virginia?”

  I reach in the sack again. “I came for George Washington and I stay for the free wine and cows that come with being Addy’s friend.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Who kept calling you last night? You had more calls and texts than most people get in a week and, every time I asked, you grumbled some mumbo-jumbo about your past life coming back to bite you in your sweet ass.”

  With that, my stomach isn’t grumbling anymore. It’s clenching and twisting.

  He lowers his voice and takes a step. I have to tip my head to look up at him, he’s so much taller than me standing on bare feet. “Unless you’re a time-traveler, I want to know about this past life of yours because I don’t plan on anyone getting close to your ass besides me.”

  I swallow hard and shift my weight. Feeling the heat radiating from him, along with talk of him anywhere near my ass, causes me to become wet where I’m pantyless.

  He reaches up and twirls one of my long curls around his index finger as his eyes wander over me. “I promise I won’t bite it.”

  I rub my thighs together and squeeze my eyes shut. “Evan, please.”

  He doesn’t stop. “Okay, if you’re into that, I have no problem biting you.”

  My eyes fly open and the next thing I know, his single finger curled around my teal-colored hair turns into a fist. “I guess I’ll just have to kiss it out of you.”

  Then his hand grips the back of my neck and his lips land on mine.

  It’s such a shock, my breath catches and my lips part.

  For the first time ever, I’m kissing Evan Charles Hargrove III. I’m so glad I brushed my teeth earlier.

  I mean, I’ve had my share of first kisses and this is not your run-of-the-mill encounter with another set of lips.

  His mouth devours mine as he turns and presses me into the counter, our bodies making full-on contact. I feel every one of his toned muscles press into my small, soft curves through my thin robe. That tongue, which has teased me so many times when he’s sent me secret looks, plunges into my mouth as desperate as a starved sailor abandone
d at sea. With one hand in my hair and the other reaching down to fist my kimono at my thigh, he’s everywhere, making my heart speed.

  I’ve tried not to dream of Evan, but I’m weak and not disciplined in much of anything. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve tried to avoid his attention because we just don’t fit, this kiss is everything I imagined it would be.

  Yet, so much more.

  Dragging his hand up my body, the silk pulls with his touch and he brushes the bottom of my breast through the thin material. I can’t help it—I moan against his tongue as it explores me. This spurs him on and he deepens his kiss. His big hand cups my breast and squeezes, roughly pinching my nipple between his index finger and thumb.

  The sensation shoots straight south and I gasp for air. “Evan.”

  He pulls his head back, his chest rising and falling—just as affected by our first kiss—and stares into me. “You said so many things last night, I don’t even know where to start with you.”

  I frown and try to catch my breath, but he still has a firm hold of my breast and isn’t letting go. I swallow and try to fidget but he presses his hips into me. His cock, thick and hard, indents my belly, making me wetter than I already was. “I was drunk. I can’t be held responsible for what I say under the influence.”

  He hikes a brow. “People are honest when they’re drunk.”

  “Not me,” I lie, now more worried than ever about how I can recover from my drunken prattling. “I’m a big, fat liar when I drink. I’m famous for it. It’s my signature party trick.”

  His lips tip and suddenly those perfect all-American white teeth glint at me. “Party trick?”

  “Yeah. Everyone has one. Like tying a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue. Cherry stems and lies. I’m known for them.”

  His voice dips and he pinches my nipple again, twisting this time. “Maybe you’d like to talk more about what you can do with your tongue.”

  I give my head a shake but more to ward off the shiver running down my spine from what he’s doing to my breast rather than his words. “No. I don’t think that would be a good idea, either.”