Tequila Rose (Tequila Rose 1)

A second passes and then another. She takes a sip of her drink and leans back in her seat.

“I’ll be honest. I don’t remember much from that night, other than I really felt good next to you. I remember laughing and I remember kissing you and everything after,” she reminisces with a softness to her voice, like she longs to go back. “So tell me everything, Brody. You tell me first and then I’ll tell you.”

“Back and forth. Tit for tat,” I say.

“Tit for tat,” she agrees, taking another sip.

“I came here because I wanted to sail,” I offer up first. Sailing is something I did with my grandfather. I leave that part out. I know eventually I’ll tell her, because he’s why I was there all those nights ago at the bar. She doesn’t know it, but she saved me that night. I’ll tell her, though. I’m saving it for whenever she tells me what she thinks is so damning.

“You sail?” The pep in her voice makes me grin. With a nod I tell her I love it.

“I do too.” Her response comes complete with a little wiggle in her seat as she seems to settle back. “I’ve always lived here. Except for when I was in college, of course.” She stirs her drink as she adds, “So I’ve been sailing more times than I can count.”

“Same … well, not about living here.” I guess she likes the way I add in the correction because she laughs and leans in, ready for more. The conversation is easy, the atmosphere gentle and coaxing. Any tension that was present before vanishes. She kept her word, giving me my chance.

“I’m going sailing this weekend. Come with me,” I say, inviting her with all the confidence I have and that requires a sip of beer and then another as she hesitates to answer.

“Sail away with you?” She laughs softly into her drink and the waiter comes back just then. Nathanial asks if she’d like another drink.

I know I have her when she nods a yes.

“My buddy Griffin is coming, but it’s just us. Soaking up some sun and maybe taking a dip.”

“Mm-hmm.” Magnolia’s attention leaves me as a rectangular plate of bruschetta is placed in front of us.

She’s more than eager to take a piece and I join in. The crunch of the toasted bread and drizzle of balsamic is addictive.

“Good, right?” she says and grins around the last bit from her small piece, then pops it in her mouth.

Something about her smile, about the way she licks the tip of her finger afterward has my cock twitching in my jeans. She makes me feel like I’m in high school all over again. Like I’m some puppy dog she already has on a leash.

“Damn good,” I respond and let my gaze fall a little south of her chin. Her laugh brings a wide smile to my lips and she pretends like she’s going to toss her napkin at me.

This is exactly what I remember from that night. Not the conversation, but the feeling that stirs inside of me.

I wanted her, and she wanted me. That’s really all there was to it. With a soft hum and her posture more at ease, I give her a compliment, telling her, “I like your hair that way.”

She brightens and with the way her hand twitches, I bet she’d have touched her hair to help her remember how she did it if she wasn’t so self-conscious.

“Sun-kissed, I mean. It suits you.” The blush on her cheeks is sweet and it makes me smile.

“There’s a little more sun down here than up north, huh?” I love that hint of a Southern accent in her voice.

“That’s not the only reason I like it down here,” I say, letting my voice drop and wink at her.

“Stop,” she says and blushes again, more vibrant and bashful.

“There’s also sailing. Don’t forget,” I add, toying with her still and she outright playfully smacks me. The sense of ease is settling between us and everything is feeling more right than it has before now.

“Just kidding,” I tell her and snag another piece of bruschetta.

As she laughs, I’m drawn back to that moment years ago, when she fell into my arms and then into bed with me. So many nights I’ve dreamed of those soft sounds that slipped from her lips back then.

Before I can get too lost in the memory, she carries on the conversation after taking another bite of the bruschetta.

“How’d you guys meet?”

“Me and Griffin?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question about coming sailing with me. You could bring Renee,” I offer to sweeten the deal.

She laughs, but still doesn’t answer. Her legs sway slightly and she seems to contemplate it.

“I’m pretty damn good at sailing,” I tell her. “Promise I won’t crash.”