Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

23. Marisa

CHAPTER 23

Marisa

FULL ON, PRINCESS-STYLE

“ O pen up your throat! Wider!” Elyse yells at me.

Elyse has the drinking capabilities of a twenty-year-old frat boy. She’s also a master at peer pressure and is trying to teach me to properly take a shot. We’re four shots deep, and I haven’t gotten any better, only drunker.

“I sure hope your throat can open up for other activities. I feel bad for your future husband.”

I hate being underestimated, even if it is for something as ridiculous as taking a shot. “Can I get another?” I call to the bartender on the other end of the bar. I’m going to take this shot and prove her wrong. I happen to be very good at other throat activities, and I won’t have her implying otherwise.

The bartender pours the tequila and slides the shot over to me.

“Attagirl,” Elyse whoops, Layla joining her. Ariana snuck out of here the first chance she got, leaving me alone with these crazy women.

I haven’t seen Ethan since Elyse pulled me from him. A pang of disappointment hit me when my eyes scanned for him and he wasn’t anywhere to be found. He probably left. The Jackalope doesn’t seem like the kind of place he would frequent. Still, part of me had hoped he would stay. Maybe then he’d be here to save me from his wild sisters.

I take the shot, swallowing it in one big gulp, and it burns so painfully I’m afraid it’s going to come right back up. Elyse shoves a lime in my mouth, and if I wasn’t loosened up from alcohol, I’d worry where the lime came from and how many germy hands have touched it.

A song I don’t recognize starts playing, and Layla gasps. “I love this song! Let’s go dance.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before grabbing mine and Elyse’s hands and dragging us out into the middle of the bar. The Jackalope isn’t really a dancing kind of bar. I feel eyes on us from all around as my hips move to the beat of the music. More people join us on the makeshift dance floor, and I relax slightly.

Once the next song starts, the alcohol has fully hit. The room sways around me. Colors bleed together, forming dark shadows in the fringes of my vision. It’s incredibly loud, but everything sounds like one constant hum, a distant echo as I try to focus.

Water .

I need water.

Abandoning Elyse and Layla, I walk back to the bar in search of anything other than alcohol. On the trek there, my boot catches on the sticky floor and I stumble slightly, but a firm hand steadies me.

“Whoa there, you okay?”

I first look at the hand grasping my shoulder, and then my eyes travel up his arm and neck to meet his face. A pair of cloudy blue eyes are looking at me, crinkled at the corners from a smile. They’re familiar, yet I can’t place him. It starts with a C. Conner? Chris? Cody?

“It’s Cole,” the man says, pointing to himself. “Remember? We met earlier.”

I hope I didn’t try to guess his name out loud.

“You’re smashed, aren’t you?”

I giggle, but it sounds foreign to my ears, like I’m outside of my body, listening in. “Just a little.”

Still holding my arm, he snakes his hand up and around my shoulder, dragging me against him. “Come on, drunky, let’s get you some water.”

He smells of cinnamon, and a wave of nausea rises as I’m reminded of the cinnamon whiskey shots we took before we switched to tequila.

In the far reaches of my memory, I recall introducing myself to him when I arrived because I’m scheduled to interview him soon. Like Ethan, he’s also running his family’s winery.

Cole lets go of me to chat with the bartender, and my body unfurls in relief that we’re no longer touching.

“Here, drink up,” Cole tells me, handing me a water bottle.

I may be drunk, but I’m still cognizant enough to listen for the crack of the seal to break on the water bottle before bringing it up to my lips for a drink. I don’t know if it’s paranoia trickled in from the smell of weed wafting around or the cool water has slightly sobered me, but I’m now keenly aware that I don’t know this man. I should go back to Elyse and Layla.

I turn to leave, and the water in my bottle sloshes over the top due to my unsteady steps.

“Sit down for a second. Before you get hurt,” Cole says, tugging on my arms until he’s gently guided me into a barstool. His eyes dance with amusement as he watches me. “You gotta watch out for the Ledger girls, they’ll drink you under the table.”

“I had no idea,” I say more to myself than to him.

He hops on the barstool next to mine, looking completely content and relaxed. In fact, he looks sober.

“Have you had anything to drink tonight?” I blurt out.

He chuckles. “Just a beer.”

My already flushed skin heats even more.

I drink more water and start to feel my eyes growing heavy. I could fall asleep right here if I let myself.

“Maybe I should take you home,” he says, his brows scrunching in worry.

My head feels too heavy for my neck, so I let it tip back to relieve some of the tension. Unable to stand the vest any longer, I work at the buttons, fumbling slightly because the tips of my fingers feel numb. Eventually, I get it off and take a deep breath, my first all night, and I feel so much better already. When I sit back up, Cole is watching me with an odd look.

He smirks. “Even drunk off your ass, you’re easily the sexiest woman in the room.”

Oh.

My brain grabs hold of his suggestive words, bouncing them around. It’s not that I think Cole is bad looking, it’s that I don’t think of him that way. In fact, I can only think of one person who’s suggestive words I want and it’s?—

“Ready to go home?” a voice says, sneaking up on me.

My head whips, trying to find the source, even though I know exactly who it is because I’d recognize that deep timbre anywhere.

“Ethan!” I yell excitedly and fling myself at him, my arms wrapping around his neck.

A whoosh of air leaves him as he grunts from my forceful leap.

“I thought you left.”

“Nope,” he whispers against my head, his warm breath caressing my ear.

I fight the urge to burrow into him at the same time that he starts to peel me off, taking a noticeable step away from me. I avert my eyes, trying to mask my disappointment. He clearly doesn’t like me touching him.

“Ledger.” Cole assesses Ethan, standing and squaring up against him.

“Benton.” Ethan mirrors Cole’s stance.

My eyes bounce between the two men. Are they going to fight? What’s happening right now? Their eyes are locked in what looks like a deadly stare-off. Tension crackles in the air, and a bundle of nerves tightens in my stomach. Positioned in the middle, am I the only thing keeping these two from pouncing on each other?

Cole cracks first. A grin splits his face, and before I can fully register the shift, he bursts into laughter, doubling over and slapping his knee. I look over at Ethan, he’s not laughing like Cole is, but the corners of his lips are twitching and the edges of his eyes are creased with a hint of humor.

Am I missing something?

“What just happened?” I ask Ethan, still trying to wrap my mind around their interaction.

Cole wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Good to see you, man.”

Ethan nods, moving around me and clapping Cole on the back. “What are you two up to?” Ethan asks us, but he’s looking directly at me, his expression unreadable.

“I was about to take her home. She can barely stand,” Cole says, like I’m not right next to him. He points between us. “How do you guys know each other?”

Ethan stiffens slightly, and his eyes grow darker. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a challenge there, unspoken but clear.

“Marisa is staying in my cottage,” he tells Cole, eyes still fixed on me.

The way he worded that made it sound like I’m literally staying in the cottage with him, but I don’t correct him because part of me wants his claim. Ethan’s probably trying to save me from his playboy friend and doesn’t actually mean anything by it, but I can’t help the gooey feeling coating my insides like warm honey.

“Ready to go home?” Ethan repeats, and I melt.

Home.

Everything about that felt electric, like a current is running through me.

I nod, and Ethan’s hand grazes the small of my back as he guides me to stand before dragging around to my side, splaying out to grip between my ribs and hip.

“See you around, Cole,” Ethan says, as he walks me out of the bar

I was starting to sober, growing more sleepy than anything, but now that familiar drunk feeling has returned and it has nothing to do with alcohol.

As we step outside, the cool night air hits my face, causing my breath to fog.

“Wait,” I gasp. “I didn’t say bye to anyone.”

He glances down at me and laughs quietly. I love that sound. In fact, I think it’s my favorite sound. “I know. Something tells me they’ll live.”

We walk a few more paces until he abruptly stops. Before I can gather my bearings, his palm is sliding under my thighs and my stomach dips as my feet lift off the ground.

He’s carrying me.

Like full on, princess-style carrying me.

“What are you doing?” I screech.

“I’m carrying you,” he deadpans.

Well, no shit. “Why?”

He keeps walking, his hot breath heating my chest. “Because at the snail’s pace you were walking, we wouldn’t get to my truck before sunup.”

I like this a little too much. I’ve never been carried by a man before. Ever. A swarm of butterflies has taken flight inside me, so powerful I’m certain he can hear the flapping of their wings. If I turned my head slightly, I could nuzzle his neck, feel his warm skin against my lips. I just might. What’s the worst he could do?

Would he like it? Would it be his undoing? I know I said I wouldn’t let myself get distracted, but that ship has sailed. I’m distracted as hell; by his scent, and his scruffy beard, and the way his rough hands gently touch me. I bet they would feel even better?—

“Here we are.” Ethan slowly places me back down, ensuring I have my footing before letting go. The moment he’s no longer touching me, my body shutters at the loss of contact.

He opens the passenger door and grabs hold of my hand to help me up. The hand hold is brief, but the lingering heat he leaves behind sears my palm. Just when I think he’s going to shut the door, he catches me by surprise and buckles me up. My breath hitches as he clicks the belt in place and his heavy-lidded eyes hold mine.

I lick my lips and watch his eyes track the movement. His normally mossy eyes have gone dark, fully dilated and shining from the overhead streetlight. Risking my pride, I lean forward, blurring the invisible line we’ve drawn. I can’t remember the last time I wanted so desperately to be kissed.

He inches closer, and my entire body stills, save for my erratic heart threatening to leap out of my throat. I want to know what he tastes like. I want to know if his beard will scratch against my skin like I’ve been imagining it would. I want his gentle touch to be a little not so gentle, unrestrained and unguarded, just for me.

He’s close enough to me now I can feel the ghost of his lips, the soft heat of them invading my senses. Just when I think he’s going to crash his mouth to mine, the heat dissolves, replaced with cold air.

He pulled away.

He rejected me.

My face burns, and I turn away from him so he doesn’t see the impact he has on me.

He closes the door and walks around to his side. Not looking at me he starts the truck and silently cranks up the heat. I feel like a fool. Like a silly, stupid girl. Of course he doesn’t want me; he’s done nothing to make me think otherwise. I built something up in my head that wasn’t real. As we drive away from the bar, I pivot myself away from him, curling my body against the door and closing my heavy eyes. Never again. Never again will I let myself go there.