Until the Tequila (The Killers #3.5)(9)

I look over at Evan, who makes my small living room seem even smaller, and realize there’s no way he’s leaving anytime soon. I drop my purse on the sofa. “I’m going to change. Help yourself to what little is in the fridge.”

He lifts his chin and takes the three steps to my kitchen. I hear him pop open a can of something as I shut myself in my room. I fall back on my bed, close my eyes, and wonder why my life can never be simple. I’m always clawing to keep up and, now with my dad looking for me and Evan pursuing me, my brain is on a never-ending merry-go-round. All I want to do is jump off and take a break from the dizzying ride.

Maybe I’ll just lie here for a minute. If Evan wants to talk to me so badly, he can wait.

I grab my pillow. Just five minutes to rest my head will surely give me the willpower to deal with him.

And by deal, I mean keep my mouth shut and my clothes on.





6





Accidental Allies





Evan





“What’s taking so long? You cleaning out your closet in there?”

I’m standing in front of a wobbly bookcase filled with books and ridiculousness. It’s wallpapered with inappropriate bumper stickers, cut-out memes, and raunchy cartoons. She’s got the entire cast of the Harry Potter bobble head collection. I’m pretty sure there’s about a hundred other figurines and, as I inspect her rag-tag collection of paperbacks, it looks like Mary has a penchant for smut. Every cover is well used and shows more skin than fabric.

I take another drink of my Diet Coke, which is about all she has in her refrigerator, and turn for her bedroom. “Mary. It’s really gonna hurt my feelings if you snuck out the window.”

I knock on her door and get nothing, then put my hand on the doorknob and turn it. It’s not like I didn’t see everything this afternoon when she practically wrote me a formal invitation to make her body sing.

How ironic is it that I got her naked in her kitchen but every time I see the woman in bed, she’s fully clothed and dead to the world. At least tonight she isn’t drunk and I shouldn’t be surprised she’s out like a light. She yawned all through poker and her eyes still looked like she was on the tequila struggle bus. Her hair, that I can’t stop fixating on, is pulled out of its tie. In a mess of colorful waves, it floats behind her in freezeframe. She’s perfect.

I lean onto the doorjamb and take in her tiny frame curled into a pillow where she lies sideways across her small double bed. Her room is even more eccentric than her bookcases. She’s got beads hanging in front of her windows, a million pillows are stacked in the corner, and her floor is covered in clothes and shoes.

Mary is messy. And I love it.

She’s filled her world with as much color as she puts in her hair and I have to fight my cock from swelling from just being here. I want to learn everything there is to know about her.

I want to wake her up, have her talk to me, force her to trust me, and then make her come again, but with my tongue this time. I want to do all kinds of things but I know I need to prove myself to her first.

Her purse rings from the other room and I pull her door shut so it doesn’t wake her. Digging through her bag—which is as messy as her bedroom—I unearth her phone through loose mints, tampons, and crinkled receipts.

There’s a picture of Mary with a blonde on the screen. They’ve got their arms around each other with their lips puckered into a kiss for the selfie. Weird. All the screen says is July.

I slide my finger across the screen. “Hello?”

I get nothing before a female voice snaps at me. “Who is this?”

“Evan. Who is this?”

She doesn’t give me her name. “This is Mary’s number and has been for years. Where is she?”

Whoever this is, she’s protective of Mary. I can tell she’d jump through this phone and strangle me if she could.

I sit down on the old sofa covered in throw blankets and stretch my legs out, propping them on top of the chipped coffee table. “Mary’s asleep. Who’s this?”

“But, it’s not even ten o’clock there. Mary’s a night owl. Why is she asleep, why are you there while she’s asleep, and why are you answering her phone?”

I lean my head back on the sofa. “That’s a lot of whys.”

“I’m not shitting you. I know Mary’s at home because I just tracked her on Snapchat. If you don’t tell me who you are right now and why you’re there, I’m gonna call the police. Or you can just wake her up and put her on the phone so I know she’s okay.” She takes a breath and rethinks her demands. “In fact, do that. Wake her up and put her on the phone.”

She sounds about as threatening as a kitten. “I’m not waking her. She’s tired. Are you the one who’s been lighting up her phone last night and tonight? She won’t answer it around me.”

“Wait.” The woman pauses and her voice turns just slightly less frantic. “You’re the date from last night?”

“Depends. If she had good things to say, then, yes. If not, I have no clue who she went out with last night.”

Her tone turns nosy. “Your name is Evan?”

“Yeah and just to finish off the Spanish Inquisition, my last name is Hargrove, I work for Mary’s friend Addy at the winery, and just to calm your ass down, I’ve never been arrested. Taken into custody? Sure, once in high school when I was stopped with two kegs in the back of my car. But I got out of it.”