“I won’t deny that.” Cade leaned into the back of his stool, smiling with satisfaction. “Okay, then, let’s say I cover my stump before I hump.”
Marco choked on his beer.
“Wrap your whacker before you attack her,” Beck added with a grin.
Cade nodded. “You can’t go wrong if you shield your dong.”
“Enough.” Marco held up a hand. “I still think you’re overcompensating a little.”
The air immediately went static around them. Cade’s face darkened and his eyes narrowed at Marco. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Look, I don’t mean anything by that. I’m just saying…you don’t have to prove your masculinity. You’re fine.”
“I am now.” Cade’s jaw set. “And I’m not trying to prove anything.”
Beck and Marco exchanged looks. Yeah, they totally didn’t buy that bullshit. But Cade refused to talk about this.
“You don’t give Mr. Smooth here a hard time.” Cade’s annoyed gaze landed on Beck and he lifted his chin. “You do as many chicks as I do.”
Beck laughed. “Not possible.”
Yeah, he liked women. He loved women. And they liked him too. He wasn’t being cocky, it was a fact.
“You two are disgusting,” Marco said.
“You’re just jealous.”
“Fah.”
“What did you just say? Fah?”
“I was about to tell you to fuck off.”
Inevitably talk turned to business.
“So Saturday’s our first tequila tasting evening,” Marco reminded them. “This should bring in some business.”
“Let’s hope so.” Cade sighed. “We need to pick things up.”
“We’re doing fine,” Beck said.
Cade slanted him a frown. “Says the guy money doesn’t matter to.”
“It matters to me.”
“Only because you have so much of it.”
Beck swallowed a sigh. He’d thought they were past the fact that he was loaded.
They’d been together for the most part of the years they’d been SEALs. The intense, fast-paced training—along with practical jokes, good-natured ribbing, and roughhousing during off time, as well as the intense focus and danger while on ops—banded platoons together like brothers, but Cade, Marco, and Beck had found a special bond. Then they’d all made the decision to leave the Navy around the same time and had to figure out what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives. When Marco made a joke about opening a tequila bar because they drank so much of the stuff (his nickname had been José) they’d all laughed. Then Beck had revealed that he had a trust fund tucked away that would allow them to make that a reality. They knew who his family was, and how wealthy they were. They also knew he hated his family and didn’t have much to do with them, but they’d had no idea that he personally had inherited a whack of money from his grandfather, which he’d never touched…and which had grown into billions of dollars.
They’d been kind of pissed he’d never told them that.
What the fuck. He didn’t care about the money. Money meant shit to him. But he had to admit it had felt good to be able to step up and offer it so they could finance their business. What started as a joke had quickly developed into so much more, although it was different for each of them. Beck didn’t care if they made money…but dammit, he wanted to be successful, and the money was validation that they were doing a good job. Cade was driven to succeed too, but for different reasons. Cade had grown up in a totally different socioeconomic environment than Beck, and for him the money was power and security he’d never had as a kid. For Marco, succeeding was a way of proving himself worthy. The business was also a constant in his life, like the Navy had been. None of them had ever had the support of their real families, so they’d become one another’s family.
Even though the money didn’t matter to Beck, it mattered to Cade and Marco, and he couldn’t let his buddies down. They’d all shared the same fear of failure and drive to be the best when they’d met in BUD/S training, and they still shared those traits, now driven to reinvent their lives and make a success of their business. They all made their own contribution. Plus, it was fun, and also…it was a good way to meet hot chicks.
Chapter 2
“Conquistadors.”
“Huh?” Hayden blinked at Carrie, who’d just arrived at her condo to pick her up for their Saturday night outing. Hayden had just walked in the door after spending the afternoon over at Aunt Gina and Uncle Colin’s, preparing some meals that her uncle could reheat, throwing out moldy food, and cleaning, which he apparently was incapable of doing. She loved her uncle, but that bathroom was disgusting.
“It’s a tequila bar on Ocean Boulevard.”
“We’re going to a tequila bar?”
“Yeah. They have this tasting night. It sounds fun.”
Hayden frowned. “I hate tequila.”
“Just because of that one night in college. This won’t be like that. Besides, I already bought tickets, so we have to go.”
“You have to buy tickets?”
“Yes. It’s forty dollars and you get to taste different tequilas and learn more about them. Also we get some food, I think.”
Hayden shook her head, mystified. “Okay.” She looked down at her shorts and grubby T-shirt. “I need to change.”
“Yes, you do.”
Carrie followed her into her bedroom. Hayden plucked a white shirt and pair of black pants from her closet. “This okay to wear?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
Carrie grinned. “Come on. You’re not going to work. We’re going out for fun. F. U. N. Remember?”
“What am I supposed to wear?”
“Something sexy.”
Hayden snorted. “Right.”
“Oh, come on. I know you have several little black dresses you wear to business dinners. Wait. I’ve seen those dresses. We need to get you a sexy little black dress. Okay, tonight you can wear jeans.”
“Really?”
“Yes. With a sexy top. Come on, let’s check your closet. I know you bought some nice things that day we went shopping in the Gaslamp Quarter.”
“That was a year ago.”
“And you’ve probably never worn them.”
Carrie stepped into the walk-in closet in Hayden’s bedroom and surveyed the contents while Hayden stepped out of her shorts.
“Skinny jeans,” Carrie murmured. “Okay, this top.” She pulled out a camisole.
Hayden sighed. “I love that top, but it’s just not me.”
“That doesn’t make sense. If you love it, then it is you.”
The pale pink silk was heavily embroidered with burgundy flowers and dark green leaves, with some beads for a bit of sparkle, and a sheer burgundy bow at the bottom of the V neckline. Hayden snatched the hanger from Carrie. “Fine. I’ll have to change to a strapless bra.”
“Oh, just skip the bra. The top is loose enough that you can’t tell.”
What the hell. Moments later, she had the camisole on over her jeans. She inspected her reflection in the mirror and made a face.
“Let me do your hair,” Carrie said.
“I don’t know if I have enough patience for that.”
“It’ll be quick.” Carrie moved to the bathroom and plugged in the flat iron sitting on the long white marble vanity. “I need a hair tie.”
“That I have.” The only hairstyle Hayden could accomplish was a ponytail, which was most often how she wore her hair. She pulled open a drawer and handed the elastic band to Carrie.
Carrie turned her by the shoulders, brushed her hair over one shoulder, and did a messy fishtail braid, leaving some pieces loose in front. Then she gave those pieces a quick bend with the flat iron. “Nice,” she pronounced.
Again Hayden surveyed her image in the mirror. “Huh. That is kind of nice.”
“Okay. We’re all set.” Carrie unplugged the flatiron. “Heels would look great, but if we want to walk to
the bar we need to wear flats.” She frowned.
“I’m fine with flats.” Hayden rarely wore heels because she was on her feet and running around all day, every day, and flats were more practical.
They walked up to Grand Avenue and then toward the Pacific Ocean. As they approached it, its salty scent carried on the breeze, rustling the palm trees lining the sidewalk. The lowering sun cast a golden light over everything. “So beautiful,” Hayden murmured, looking out over the sand and water. She didn’t take enough time to appreciate the beauty around her. She knew that. She was just busy.
“It is.”
“This is the place.” Carrie stopped in front of a white stucco building with arched windows and a red clay tiled roof. Above the door was a stylized black-and-white conquistador on a horse and the name “Conquistadors,” illuminated with spotlights that were still pale in the early evening sun.
“Looks nice.”
It wasn’t your typical Mexican restaurant with bright colors and a fiesta vibe—instead it was classy and elegant.
Inside, Hayden was further surprised. The interior of the bar and restaurant matched the exterior, with white walls, dark wood, black leather furniture, and funky chrome light fixtures suspended above tables. A fire flickered in a big stone fireplace against one wall, and the bar lined another wall, glittering with bottles and glasses. Wood Venetian blinds on the windows kept the atmosphere secluded from the lowering sun outside.
Nearly every table was occupied, and a sign at one end of the bar welcomed people to the tequila tasting event. They made their way there and were greeted by a gorgeous Hispanic man. “Hello.” His smile beamed white in his olive-toned face. Short stubble darkened his jaw and his brown eyes gleamed. “I’m Marco. Welcome to Conquistadors. Did you ladies buy tickets ahead of time?”
“Yes, we did.” Carrie handed over her computer-printed tickets.
Marco checked them against a list and handed them back. “Excellent. We’ll be getting started soon. Have a seat at the bar.” He gestured.
They climbed onto black leather stools and studied the myriad of bottles on the wall behind the bar. “He was totally checking you out,” Hayden told Carrie.
Carrie smirked. “Yeah.”
Hayden had to laugh. Carrie had to be the most down-to-earth model in the world.
“He’s good-looking,” Carrie added. “But douchey.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged and picked up the paper that had been set in front of each stool. “Just an impression.”
Hayden lifted her paper too and studied it. It outlined the various tequilas they’d be tasting that evening. She didn’t recognize any of them. Not that she was very familiar with tequila.
More people arrived and checked in for the event, joining them at the bar. A man slid onto the stool next to Carrie. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Brian. This is my buddy Will.”
Carrie introduced herself and Hayden, who leaned forward to smile at the two guys. Of course they would introduce themselves to Carrie. Guys were always hitting on Carrie.
A woman behind the bar approached them with a friendly smile and set a basket of chips and a bowl of salsa in front of them, then another in front of Brian and Will.
At the far end of the bar, another man was busy lining up bottles and glasses on a big tray, talking to a group of women who’d gathered there. Hayden glanced his way as she helped herself to a chip, then did a double take. “Holy shit.”
“What?” Carrie plucked a chip from the basket.
“That guy…the bartender down there. He’s the one who grabbed me when I ran into that sign the other day. Oh right. I didn’t tell you about that.”
Carrie’s eyebrows rose and she crunched her chip. “Nope.”
Hayden told the embarrassing story and Carrie covered her mouth with her hand, eyes dancing. This wasn’t the first time Hayden had done something like that. “Oh, Hayden. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I felt like an idiot.”
Carrie’s gaze shifted to Hayden’s rescuer. “Sweet baby Jesus, check out the sexy man bun. And those biceps…his tattoo…he is hot.”
“I know. I was so flustered I could barely talk. I mean, I was a little shaken up from hitting the post, but then he was holding me and all I could think was…wow.”
“Well, hey, you get a chance to thank him again.”
“No. I can’t talk to him. He’s too good-looking.”
Carrie snorted. “No, honey, that’s not how it works.”
Hayden shook her head, glancing at the bartender again. “Whatever,” she mumbled.
“Hayden Miles, you are a professor and a successful entrepreneur and one of Tech Mag’s top thirty-five innovators under thirty-five. You can flirt a little with a hot bartender.”
“He’s a bartender.”
“I didn’t say you have to marry him. Lighten up. Have some fun.”
Hayden rolled her eyes.
The bartender was carrying the tray toward them now, and he stopped in the middle of the long, polished wood bar to set the tray down, glancing to his right and left to assess the people there. His gaze landed on Hayden. He tipped his head to one side, forehead creasing. Then a slow smile broke out on his face.
Heat curled low down inside Hayden.
“Hey,” he said, moving closer. “I recognize you.”
Hayden’s cheeks warmed at the memory. “Um yeah. Hi. Again.”
“How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s fine.” She tried a casual smile. “Uh, thanks again for helping me out that day.”
“Not a problem. I almost didn’t recognize you.” His gaze moved over her bare shoulders and arms and then her face and hair. Heat slid from her face down to her chest and belly at his warm appraisal. “So you’re here for the tequila tasting?”
“Yes.” Hayden flicked her eyes toward Carrie. “My friend bought us tickets.”
He flashed a smile at Carrie. “Great. It’s gonna be fun.”
Marco, the man who’d greeted them, joined him. “And educational,” he added.
Hayden stared at the men, her heart flip-flopping in her chest at the sight of these two beautiful men. Both had dark hair, but Marco’s skin was darker, his hair short and beard stubble barely there, compared to the other man’s long hair, pulled back in a loose bun, and heavier beard.
“Marco is our tequila expert,” the bartender said. He looked up and down the bar again. “Well, we should get started. Hi, everyone. I’m Beck Whitcomb, one of your hosts tonight. This is Marco, who as I said is our expert tequila aficionado. Over there is Cade, who knows more about numbers than tequila.” All heads swiveled to the far end of the bar, where a man leaned against the counter.
He lifted a hand and grinned. “I know I like it.”
Everyone laughed.
“Wow,” Carrie whispered, leaning in close to Hayden. “He’s gorgeous too. This place is awesome!”
Hayden bit her lip on a smile.
“Tonight we’ll be tasting five kinds of tequila,” Marco announced. “But first, let’s talk a little about tequila in general. Tequila was first produced by Spanish conquistadors in the sixteenth century.”
“Hence the name of the bar,” Hayden murmured to Carrie.
Marco heard her and pointed at her with a smile. “Yes, you are right! Although the name of the bar has other meanings for the owners. So. Before tequila, the Aztecs were making another fermented agave beverage, called pulque. Today, tequila is made exclusively from blue agave.”
“What’s the difference between tequila and mescal?” Will asked. “Apart from the worm.”
Hayden shuddered.
“Good question.” Marco nodded. “Tequila can only be made with one hundred percent blue agave. Mescal can be made with as many as thirty varieties of agave. Because of that, mescal can vary in taste much more than tequila. Also, tequila can only be made in certain regions of Mexico…mostly Jalisco.” The way he said the
Spanish words, with perfect pronunciation, made Hayden shiver. “As for the worm, I recommend you avoid those bottles. There really is no reason to put larvae into tequila.”
“Other than a good drinking game,” Beck said with a wicked grin, and everyone laughed.
“True,” Marco said. “Which is why many people think tequila is just a cheap drink for college kids.”
Carrie elbowed Hayden in the ribs and Hayden grimaced. She caught Beck watching them, lips quirked, and her cheeks flamed.
“But tequila is really a spirit that is meant to be sipped and savored,” Marco continued. “As true connoisseurs of the Mexican spirit will tell you, tequila is a refined and sophisticated beverage. Its long history makes each bottle on the tasting list tonight something to appreciate. I want to talk a little about how tequila is made, so you understand what makes a quality beverage. I’ll try not to bore you with too many details because I could talk about this forever.”
Hayden smiled at his enthusiasm, something she understood. Just not about tequila.
Hayden’s attention was caught by Beck as he winked at a woman farther down the bar, then leaned over to listen to something she said. He threw back his head and laughed, his white teeth gleaming in his dark beard. Then he said something back to her, and Hayden craned her neck to see the woman. Yeah, she was pretty—dark-haired with shiny red lips reflecting Beck’s smile in an equally flirtatious one of her own.
Ugh.
Hayden turned her attention back to Marco.
“It takes eight to ten years before the blue agave plants are ready for harvesting. The harvester, known as the jimador, extracts the piña from the core of the plant, which are then split open and steamed. The resulting liquids ferment for twelve hours to several days, then undergo a double distillation process resulting in a potent, high-proof tequila.”
“What’s the difference between gold and silver tequila?” someone asked.
“Another good question. And I was just getting to that. Tonight we’ll be sampling tequilas from these different categories. First, silver tequila, also known as blanco or white, or plata, which is platinum. This is blue agave spirit in its purest form. It’s clear and typically un-aged. The true flavors and the intensity of the agave are present, as well as the natural sweetness. This is Patrón.” He held up a bottle.
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