Autumn Night Whiskey (Tequila Rose 2)

“How’s your mom?” he asks, his words much more careful than any others.

“The same,” I say and I’m quick to change the subject back to the gala Mags is putting on. “Some suits are coming into town and I’m taking them to the event.”

“Politics?” he questions, his brow arched. Anything that refers to work of any kind in government is “politics” to him and he never fails to tell me how much he hates it all. Ever since middle school he’s told me he prefers anarchy. I don’t think he really knows what it means, he’s just tired of how slow it can all be.

“Yeah,” I answer him and lean back against an old bench. “Wining and dining. You going?”

I have to laugh when his head rears back and he replies, “Hell no.” A few seconds later he adds with a broad smile, “I’ll be at the after-party, though.”

“Where’s that?” I question, feeling a bit of ease that I shouldn’t trust.

“Supposedly the backyard of the new bar.” Bingo. I knew it. He’s still sniffing around for information about Mags.

Asher could outright ask me what’s really on his mind, and if I don’t give him what he’s after before taking those keys he’s got dangling from his fingers, I know he will.

“Oh yeah?” I mimic his stance, crossing my arms over my chest and wait for the questions.

“That new guy … Griffin. Seems all right,” he comments and I’m damn surprised how much my heart races and my body heats. I could’ve sworn he was going to say Brody. The tension and anxiousness are enough to make me look away from a friend I’ve known my whole life. Just the idea that Asher holds any opinion of him at all makes me uneasy.

“Yeah, I met him. Looked up him and his friend when they filled out paperwork for the licensing.”

“Haven’t met that one yet.”

“Brody?” My body’s rigid and my jaw tight, but somehow I manage to say his name.

“Yeah … I take it you have?” he prompts.

Staring down at the place in the cement floor where I helped him fix a crack a year or two ago, I answer, “He’s all right.”

Asher stares at me a moment, his gaze drilling holes in the side of my head. “So he’s all right?”

It fucking kills me to confess, “I wish I could tell you he’s not. Believe me.”

His ever-present smile fades as the curiosity and questions settle in the faint laugh lines around his eyes. Like me, he’s in his mid-twenties. Asher’s a bachelor and a read-between-the-lines kind of man.

“They should be opening soon. It looks like it’ll be a fun place.”

“Yeah, I reckon it will be.” I rub the stubble at my jaw. If I wanted, I could tell this whole town that Brody’s not welcome. I could start it right here, right now, with my friend Asher. He’s on my side and he’s a damn good friend. But if I did that, I’d be a liar and Mags would never forgive me.

“So, you coming then?” Every question seems carefully worded. “To the after-party.”

Clearing my throat, I’m equally careful with my response. “Only if I get everyone on board to sign this education budget shift … and if I’m invited.”

Asher nods slowly and seems to bite his tongue. I’m not sure if he wants to spare my feelings but fuck it, I left my heart bleeding on a table last night. There’s not much more damage Asher could do.

“You’ve been dancing around something. Just spit it out.” Feeling a tightening in my chest, I force myself to add, more calmly, “You know I’ll tell you.”

“You really asked her to marry you? Miss Jones said there was a ring box on the table at dinner.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I nod, my eyes closed. “Yeah, I did.”

“And she said no?”

I’m quick to correct him. “She said it’s too soon.” There’s still hope. I may be a fool for holding on to it, but there’s still hope.

“How long have you been seeing her?” he asks and I don’t know how to answer.

My throat’s tight and I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, looking past the parking lot to the thicket of trees just beyond it. There’s a slight chill in the early morning air.

“Really, man? Friends for how long, and you know I know.”

“You know what, exactly?” I ask and my question comes out defensively. For a moment I think he knows about it all. Every sordid detail. Even the reason I broke up with her in the first place. I never should have gone against my gut and trusted my father. I knew it was a mistake. Still, it’s hard to blame my father, or anyone other than myself. None of what happened next was supposed to happen.

“That you never stopped being sweet on her.”