Tequila & Time: A Short Story from the Deadwood Humorous Mystery Series (Deadwood Shorts Book 4)

by Ann Charles

  I tried to keep my expression void of winces and grimaces. Sean Connery. Sean Connery. Sean Connery was the chant in my head as she continued.

  “Then it was my turn, exploring under his clothes, scratching down his back and over his chest.” She stared down at her hands. “And then I moved lower, delving further into red-zone territory, touching, kissing, biting, giving back as good as I’d gotten.” She blew out a whistle. “Damn, he was so hard.”

  “You already said that.” I cringed on the inside. Sean Connery, I reminded myself.

  “He made me feel like a million bucks,” she continued as if I hadn’t interrupted, “all the while saying things in my ear that had me reeling, ready to let him do whatever he wanted to right there in the alley like a cheap, drunken floozy.” Her laugh was harsh and self-deprecating. “It wasn’t one of my more respectable moments.”

  She paused, staring off toward the back door.

  “Well?” I prompted. “Nosy ears are waiting to hear the end of your sordid tale.”

  She shrugged. “One minute we were tearing at each other’s clothes, and the next his cell phone rang. Work was calling, even though it was his night off.”

  “But he’d been drinking.”

  “They said they’d send a unit to come get him.”

  “So he didn’t reject you just to be a jerk.” That put an end to that theory I’d had about their night together.

  “No, but he could have told them to have someone else go check out what I learned later was just a prowler sighting.” She sighed. “You know Cooper. His job always comes first.”

  “How come you never hooked up again after that?”

  “Because he called me later that night, explaining the situation about the prowler. When I asked him to come over and finish what we’d started behind the bar, he told me that what had happened was a mistake. Then he apologized for being so forward and explained that he doesn’t date local girls, end of story.”

  “Did he actually say ‘end of story’?”

  She nodded. “That still chaps my hide, too. That along with the impression that I left in the wake of it all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I really like Coop, and not just because he’s sexy as hell and made of steel. We had a good time that night even before the kissing started, talking and laughing. He treated me with respect. He didn’t try to touch me inappropriately until I gave the green light and he didn’t make rude comments about getting me in the sack like so many guys I run into here and down at the Blue Moon in Rapid. But because of that one back-alley moment with him where I let down my guard, he now undoubtedly thinks that I’m a slut.”

  “Nat,” I started, deciding to tell her the truth about Cooper’s renewed feelings for her.

  “I’m serious, Vi. I hadn’t had anything close to back-alley sex before that, nor since. There was just something about Coop and that night that had me willing to give him whatever he wanted and then some, my dignity be damned.”

  I gave her a sideways hug. “You need to stop beating yourself up. Cooper was just as willing as you, it sounds like. Does that make him a back-alley tramp?”

  She shrugged. “It’s different for guys.”

  “Maybe you should tell Cooper the truth about that night. Explain that it was a first-and-only time for you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t like local girls.”

  I begged to differ, but I focused on helping to rebuild her self-esteem via another route. “Maybe it would make things less awkward for you when he’s around if you were to come clean about it.”

  “Does it show how uncomfortable I still am about it all?”

  “Every now and then.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck. “I can’t help it. That whole ‘end of story’ makes me want to take a swing at him with my hammer. It’s not fair. He took control of what had fired up between us and doused it, not giving me a choice in the matter.”

  “That’s very Detective Cooper–like of him.”

  She laughed. “You’re right.”

  I tried inching into the truth. “Do you ever wonder if he might be interested in picking up where you two left off that night?”

  “No. I think he made a command decision over his emotions and locked the door on me, keeping me safely on the other side.” She kicked her feet for a few seconds. “There’s no way I’m going to open that door again. I learned my lesson. He’s dangerous for me both here,” she pointed at her head first and then her heart, “and here.”

  I understood that danger full well, only I’d let Doc in and now there was no ousting him without a shitload of tears and a broken heart.

  “Besides,” she continued, “I’m on a sabbatical now. Me and my heart are feeling great and I don’t want to rock the boat any time soon.”

  Well, that was that. Telling her about Cooper pining over her was not on the docket for tonight.

  “I miss sex.” She hopped down off the table, stumbling a little before catching herself. “But nobody ever died from not having sex.”

  Sex, no. A broken heart, maybe.

  “Now, you know the rest of the story,” she said in her impression of the late, great Paul Harvey. She held her hand out to me. “Enough talk about boys. Let’s get some margaritas, crank up the tunes, and play another game of pool.”

  I hadn’t realized the music had stopped. Her story had handcuffed me and held me prisoner, much like the damned detective who’d lit her on fire and then dumped a bucket of ice over her head.

  I took her outstretched hand, same as I always had since we were little kids, and joined her for more fun and merriment. Only this time, we poured tequila into the mix.

  Just One More …

  One or two margaritas later … who’s counting?

  Tequila was a slippery devil—wait, did I say that already?

  I lined up my next pool shot, closing one eye to keep the balls on the table from moving so much. “Nine ball over there,” I slurred.

  “Over where?” Natalie asked and tittered, a sure sign that she was now officially well over the Tipsy state line. Wasted-ville was up around the bend.

  “I’ll show you.” I took the shot, but none of the balls moved. I stood up frowning. “I think I missed.”

  She danced over to me, sloshing her second margarita along the way. “You missed the cue ball completely. Move over and let me show you how it’s done.”

  I took her drink, stealing a sip of salty-sweet margarita goodness.

  Natalie leaned over the table so far that she was half lying on it. She lifted one leg, wiggling further along the table top. What was she going to do? Hit the cue ball with her nose?

  Something moved on my right. I swung my chin in that direction and frowned at the bristly detective standing next to me.

  “Uh, Nat,” I said in a stage whisper. “I smell bacon.”

  “I swear, woman,” she said without looking back, “you are addicted to that meat.”

  I stumbled closer to the pool table. “I’m talking about Smokey Bear.” Still nothing from the woman cueing up. “The Heat. Wyatt Earp. Barney Miller. Columbo.”

  Natalie tossed aside the pool stick cue, using her middle finger instead. She tapped on the cue ball with her fingertip.

  “Barney Fife,” I said, no longer whispering.

  She rolled onto her side, frowning up at me. “You forgot Starsky and Hutch. That old red and white Ford Torino really lit my fire.”

  I waved her off, almost falling over in the process. “The General Lee could take that Torino in a heartbeat.”

  “Give me that,” Cooper said, stealing Natalie’s margarita from me. “You’re going to dump it all over the table.”

  Nat’s gaze shifted to my right. “Hey, Vi, why didn’t you tell me the fuzz is here?” She tried to sit up a couple of times and then gave up and held out her hand. “I need a boost.”

  Before my brain could figure out how to get a message to my hand, Cooper was there helping her to her
feet. He leaned her against the table and then looked us both up and down. “Christ, you’re both completely wasted, aren’t you? Nyce is going to owe me double for this.”

  “Where’s Doc?” I asked, looking around the bar. Wasn’t he supposed to be playing cards with Cooper?

  “He’s waiting outside at the curb, keeping the car warm while I drag you two drunks out of here.”

  “Ahhh, isn’t Doc so sweet,” I murmured to nobody in particular.

  Natalie crossed her arms over her chest. “Lay off, Coop. It’s my birthday.”

  The detective caught Natalie as she started to tip to the side, holding her steady as I scrambled up onto the edge of the pool table, falling off twice in the process.

  “I need to lay down for a minute,” I told the eight ball.

  “We need to go, Parker. Not take a nap.”

  I lay back on the table, grunting as a pool ball dug into my kidney. “I need to wait for the room to stop spinning first.”

  “Are you okay to walk?” he asked Natalie.

  “Yep, but I’m not going anywhere without Vi.”

  I smiled up at her. “You’re such a great best friend. I love you so much.”

  “I know,” she said and tittered again. When she stopped, she fanned herself. “Damn, it’s hot in here tonight.” She lifted up her sweatshirt, pulling it off over her head. Her pink satin camisole fit her like a second skin.

  “What are you doing, Natalie?” Cooper asked, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in her half-undressed state.

  “I’m hot,” she told him, climbing up on the table and lying back next to me. “Wow, the stained glass isn’t as pretty from this view.”

  “I know, right?” I reached up toward it, letting the light outline my fingers. “Do my fingers look longer to you? I think they’re growing as I get older.”

  “Fuck,” I heard Cooper mutter. “Come on you two, before I have to arrest you for being drunk and disorderly.”

  Natalie turned her head, grinning at me. “Coop is very bossy.”

  “I noticed.”

  “But he’s still sexy.”

  “Sure, if you like to juggle chainsaws and swallow fire balls.”

  Cooper grabbed Natalie by the upper arms and hauled her upright. “Put your sweatshirt back on, Beals.” He held it out to her.

  “Make me, Officer Cranky Pants.” She held her wrists out toward him. “Or handcuff me and throw me in jail.”

  I struggled up onto my elbows. “She’s wearing a camisole, so you can’t arrest her for public nudity, Coop.”

  “That’s Detective Cooper to you, Parker.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him.

  “Listen, Coop,” Natalie said, pulling free of his hold and sliding off the table and onto her feet. “You need to understand something here.”

  “What’s that?”

  She pointed at her chest. “I’m not a slut.”

  I frowned, trying to follow her train of thought, but the tequila made the rails slippery.

  One of Cooper’s blond eyebrows lifted. “I never said you were.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, making her breasts puff up under the lacey edge of her camisole. “When I offered to have sex with you back there that night,” she said, gesturing with her thumb toward the door, “I was breaking one of my top five rules when it comes to men.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Which rule was that?”

  “Never have back-alley sex with a hot cop.”

  The corner of his lips twitched. “That’s actually one of your rules?”

  “Sort of.” She huffed. “But now you think I’m some tramp who will let any guy screw her on the first date.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not true.”

  “I’ll have you know, Detective,” she continued, poking him in the chest, “I have slept with only five men in my life.” She held her hand out with all five fingers extended. “Vi here has a much more visited vagina than me.”

  “Say what now?” I sat upright.

  “So you can take your ‘end of story’ bullshit, Coop, and sit on it!”

  Oh dear, she’d regressed to silly lines from her Fonzie fangirl days.

  “Because I’m not some barfly who you can get your kicks off with and then dump like a cold turkey. I have feelings, too.”

  He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “Why did you go with me into the alley that night, Natalie?”

  She shrugged. “You made me feel special.”

  “You are special.”

  “And desired?”

  “I wanted you more that night than I’ve wanted any other woman before or since.”

  Had he really said that out loud? I looked at Natalie, trying to see how she took that.

  “But you made it clear how you feel about me,” she continued, apparently not really hearing his replies. “End of story, Beals,” she imitated his growly voice. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to throw myself at you again, Detective. I just wanted you to know that I’m not easy.”

  “Good.”

  “And you’ll be happy to hear that what happened that night between us won’t ever happen again.”

  “That’s not the news I wanted to hear.” He reached out and snaked her hand, pulling her toward him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, trying to tug free as he reeled her closer.

  “Parker,” he said without looking my way, “close your eyes.”

  By the time his words registered in my tequila-addled brain, he was kissing my best friend.

  I stared wide-eyed at the scene, trying to comprehend that what was playing out in front of me was really happening.

  His hands cupped her cheeks, holding her steady as he slowly brushed his mouth over hers, coaxed her lips open, and then kissed her until she moaned. Her hands climbed up his chest, her fingers spread wide. She arched into him, like she was ensnared and towed closer by some invisible force.

  He drew away, groaning her name as he stared down at her. Even in my drunken state, I could hear the deep hunger in his low voice.

  Natalie blinked up at him, her mouth open as she leaned toward him again. Then she seemed to snap out of his spell and pushed away, backing into the pool table. “What are you doing, Coop?”

  His gaze was still locked onto her lips. “The story isn’t over.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me.” His focus lifted to her eyes. “I’m sorry, Natalie.”

  “For what?”

  “Treating you poorly. You deserve better.” He reached out and stroked her cheek, as if she were a delicate flower petal. “I’m going to do it right this time.”

  “This time?” I repeated, earning a shooting glare from the detective.

  He turned back to Natalie. “Stay right here. I’ll be back with Nyce to help carry you two out of here.”

  Then he was gone.

  I blinked, shaking my head slowly, feeling shocked. I turned to my best friend. “Wow! Did you see that?”

  Natalie frowned at me, touching her lips gingerly with her fingertips. “Was Coop here a moment ago?”

  The tequila made the details hard to remember. “I think so.”

  “Did he kiss me or is the tequila fucking with my head?”

  “Yes.”

  “That explains why my lips are burning.” She leaned her hip against the table. “Did I act like I enjoyed it?”

  “The tequila or the kiss?”

  “The kiss.”

  I scrunched my forehead, replaying the end of the scene in my hazy brain. “You didn’t throw up in his mouth.”

  She cringed. “Well, that’s good.”

  “What do you think we should do about Cooper?” That question was actually supposed to stay inside my own head. Should I tell Natalie the version of the truth about Cooper wanting to handcuff her to his headboard indefinitely?

  “Nothing,” she answered, sitting next to me on the table.

  “Really?” I didn’t think Cooper was going to lik
e her answer.

  “I’m on sabbatical, remember? Besides, I learned my lesson last time I got too friendly with Coop’s lips.”

  “Once bitten?” I put my arm around her.

  “Twice burned.” She leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed, sounding like a lovesick groupie. “But hell’s bells, that cop knows how to kiss a girl senseless.”

  The End … for now

  Sneak Peek Alert! (Shhhhh…)

  Join me in the Yucatán jungle for a sneak peek from the second full-length novel in the Dig Site Mystery Series, Make No Bones About It, starring Quint Parker (Violet Parker’s brother) …

  Muan: A screech owl. In Maya iconography, the muan is often linked with rain, maize, and the Underworld.

  “How deep in shit am I?” Quint asked as he secured himself into the helicopter’s passenger seat.

  His old friend Pedro Montaña held out an aviation headset for him. “When I left the dig site the day before yesterday, mi ángel was sharpening her machete. That was before she knew I was going to be delayed an extra day, along with her supplies. I didn’t dare let her know I was waiting for you to fly in.”

  Damn it. Angélica was probably breathing flames by now.

  Settling the headset over his ears, he stared out the windshield with a frown while Pedro performed a pre-flight check. The Mexican jungle was lying in wait for him at the edge of the tarmac. Somewhere, amidst the trees and bugs and critters, the woman he’d obsessed about for the last several weeks was waiting to chew him a new ass.

  Razor-sharp machete or not, Quint couldn’t wait to see her again.

  Pedro spoke a few words into his mic to the traffic controllers, and then they were lifting off. They rose above the trees, flying over the thick green sea of canopy broken only by a spider web of roads. Pockets of small towns popped up here and there, as well as clusters of gray stone structures left behind by the ancient Maya.