God of Wine

  Speechless, Margarita simply stared at him. No man had ever said anything so sweet, so romantic, and so beautiful to her. Not ever.

  She suddenly felt herself beginning to fall toward the L-word. It was strange how all it took was one moment and a few simple words to change a person’s heart. But he had. Just like that. She supposed when one stepped back and really thought about it, all of life’s big moments were simply that. A moment when everything changed. You make a decision to follow your heart and move to LA. You take a run on the beach and just know that you want to open a gym. You have one moment of weakness and you’re given a daughter.

  Or you step into an elevator with a god.

  She smiled at him. “I better warn you: If you keep talking like that, you just might win me over tonight.”

  “In that case, I will need to tread carefully and ensure I say many more honest and heartfelt things to you.” He winked. “Now, let us get on with the next bit of fun for the evening: my work!” He gestured for her to follow him to the side of the bar. Once behind it, she watched him do a quick inventory check in the refrigerators below the counter.

  Honestly, she felt kind of excited. She never imagined she’d enjoy being with him so much.

  “All right.” He slapped his hands together. “Let’s party.” He whipped off his shirt, displaying his insanely ripped abs. If it weren’t impossible, she could swear he looked even more stacked than she remembered.

  Gods, I really, really want to rub baby oil on him. Followed by rubbing her naked body on him, too.

  “First drink is on the house tonight!” Acan bellowed.

  The crowd within earshot roared and hollered.

  Acan absolutely beamed with joy as a hundred or so people queued up. The first customer was a brunette in her mid-twenties wearing white, short-short overalls and pigtails.

  “Hey, Belch. You’re looking fine tonight!” she yelled over the loud music. “Where you been, baby?”

  “Waiting for you, beautiful.” He flashed a cocky little smile.

  Margarita growled. So this was his awesome plan? To have her watch him flirt with women twenty years younger than herself?

  Before the young lady could say another word, Acan placed a tall glass on the counter, filled it halfway with soda—cola or root beer—and a shot of rum. He then reached under the counter and produced a tub of vanilla ice cream. He placed a scoop inside the glass and drizzled the entire thing with caramel.

  Wow. That actually looked kind of good. She would tell him so, except she was kind of annoyed watching him be flirty.

  The brunette’s eyes went wide and began to water. “Thanks, Belch. You always know how to put me in a good mood.”

  “My pleasure, beautiful. Oh, there’s a very handsome gentleman over in the corner, eyeing you. You should ask him to dance.”

  “I will!” She sauntered off, and Acan turned toward Margarita. “She was dumped at the altar a month ago. She needed a root beer bomb with a side of ego boost.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a gift, and I am here to serve. Would you like to try your perfect drink?”

  “No, thanks. Better not.”

  “All right. You just say the word if you’re ever ready. I know how to prepare a drink so delicious that it evokes spontaneous orgasms.”

  She laughed. “Why? Do your put your awesome god juice in it?”

  “I’ve never prepared it that way, but I suppose I could.”

  “Eww…I was joking.”

  He flashed a sinful little smile. “So was I. Because if any of my cum is going into that pretty little mouth of yours, there’s only one way it’s getting there.”

  A mental image of that skated through her head, and she couldn’t lie. It kind of turned her on. Not that she would admit it.

  “Don’t be gross.” She leaned against the back counter. “Looks like your next customer is waiting.”

  Acan chuckled and turned to the next person in line, a tall blond guy wearing a rainbow unicorn shirt that said, “I fart cupcakes.” Despite the dim lighting, Margarita noticed the man’s bloodshot eyes.

  Acan filled a glass with clear liquid from the dispenser and shoved it toward him. “Next!”

  The guy began walking away, mid-sip. “Hey, this is water.”

  “Sure the fuck is,” said Acan. “Come back in twenty minutes, and I’ll give you a refill.”

  The guy walked away, looking confused.

  “What was that all about?” Margarita asked.

  “He’s high. If I give him any liquor, he might keel over.”

  For some strange reason, it shocked her that Acan had rules and limits. “That’s actually really sweet.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “You looking after him.”

  “I’m not. I merely do not like people dying in my club. Bad for business.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and he cracked a smile.

  “Oh, you. Very funny.” She socked him right in his bulging bicep. So, so bulgy.

  Acan went on to serve another fifty or so people, and it was nothing shy of amazing. They would walk up, and he would look them in the eyes and serve up a drink. Each person would laugh or smile, their minds completely blown that he’d given them their perfect drink. Then they’d walk away positively glowing. As Margarita watched, she realized that this had nothing to do with the drinks, really. He made them feel special, cared for, or listened to. Before long, the entire club buzzed with a contagious happiness. Even she felt it.

  He’s incredible, she thought. Just incredible.

  The next person, a voluptuous black woman with pink braids and a unicorn headband, queued up.

  “Why don’t you give it a try?” Acan asked Margarita.

  “What?” she said.

  “Figure out what sort of drink she needs.”

  “How do I do that?” Margarita asked.

  “Look into her eyes, open your mind, and see what pops into your head.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just try it. For humanity’s sake and all.”

  What he really meant was that tonight was about walking in each other’s shoes to test their compatibility.

  “Okay. Why not?” She slid over and smiled at the young woman. “Hi there. My name is Margarita.”

  “Like the drink?” the woman asked.

  “Yeah. Like the drink. What can I get you?”

  Acan stepped in. “Uh-uh-uh… That’s cheating. You have to figure out the perfect beverage for her.”

  Margarita nodded. “Okay. I got this.” She turned to the young woman and stared into her eyes. “Honestly, the image of a margarita keeps popping up.” She shrugged. “Guess I’m not so good at this.”

  Seemingly out of thin air, Acan handed the young woman a margarita on the rocks. “You will require three of these tonight. One per hour, but no more. Got it?” he said to the woman.

  “Thanks!” She trotted away, happy as a clam.

  Margarita turned to him. “So her drink was a margarita?”

  He smiled slyly.

  “You already knew! Didn’t you? That was a total setup,” she said.

  “Maybe.”

  “So why only three and why only one drink per hour?” It was almost like he was handing out prescriptions.

  “She’s a lightweight and her body can only metabolize one point five ounces of tequila per hour. She also loves to dance, so if she drinks more than that, dehydration will set in and ruin her awesome buzz.”

  I just love this guy, she thought, shocking herself. But did she mean it? Or did she mean that she loved how he kept surprising her or that she loved how he cared so much about people?

  I don’t know, but as Jess would say, I’m crushing hard on him.

  “Kiss me,” she demanded, batting her eyelashes and feeling eager to touch him again.

  He grinned and slowly bent his head, but then stopped just inches from her lips. “I think I might hurt you if I do. I’m feeling in
credibly energized in your presence. And a bit aroused. All right, very aroused. But your well-being is obviously more important.”

  Her heart made a little pitter-patter. That does it, Acan, you are so getting lucky tonight. “You know you’re sort of amazing, right?”

  “I am, aren’t I?” He smiled playfully and brushed his thumb across her lower lip, beaming down at her. “I’m beginning to think you’re pretty amazing, too.”

  She felt all warm and squishy inside like a teenager with a wild, irrational crush on the hot guy who was way out of her league. Only he wasn’t.

  He’s just out of your species. Nevertheless, she was beginning to appreciate what he did for people. It wasn’t just about getting them hammered. He made them feel good. He cared about what happened to them.

  I can’t believe I’m saying this. But I really like him. More than any man she’d ever met. A) He was hot. Seven feet of ripped muscles, perfectly tanned skin, a face that was so gorgeous it almost hurt to look at him, and eyes that penetrated the deepest layers of her soul. B) He was awkward and backwards in his way of thinking, but it kind of made him adorable. Naïve, but adorable. C) He wasn’t as oblivious to others’ feelings as she’d thought. He performed his duties with a sense of honor and responsibility. D) Despite being an actual god, he didn’t try to make her feel small or insignificant. Quite the opposite. He made her feel special.

  The only downside to him was, well, Belch. She could live with the beer belly, but she couldn’t stomach his crude behavior. Swearing, drunkenness, slurring, and no pants. Degrading, X-rated talk without any filters. But it looks like he’s seen the light. He’s so happy tonight. He’d told her that she was responsible for that, and now he knew he didn’t need cocktails to have fun.

  Acan took a breath as they stood there beaming at each other. “I am very pleased by how well our date has gone, Margarita. It’s unexpected, but has truly made me happy.”

  “Me too.” It felt weird to admit it, but being together felt good. It felt right. Almost like they’d known each other forever. Or maybe it felt more like her feelings had always been there, locked away her entire life, waiting for Acan to show up with the key.

  “Well, then,” he said, “let us get the rest of these people served so you and I can perhaps go somewhere private and speak about our next steps.”

  His words sent warm butterflies to her stomach. “I’d like that.”

  He was about to turn toward the bar when she grabbed his hand. “I’m really proud of you, Acan. I mean that. Making this kind of change in your life for me—for everyone—it just shows how big your heart is.”

  His smile melted away. “What change do you speak of?”

  “This.” She waved her hand over his fit-looking body. “Choosing a healthy life, no more drinking, acting more mat—”

  “I am sorry, Margarita, if you’ve misunderstood.” His expression soured into something grim. “But I have no plans to be anyone other than who I am.”

  Margarita’s hopes dashed out the window. “So you have no plans to stop partying?”

  “Margarita, please understand that my lifestyle,” he threw out his hands, gesturing toward the dance floor and his club, “is part of the package. I am the party god, and that will never change.”

  Deflated, disappointed, sad, frustrated, irritated—none of those words came close to conveying how she felt. Moments ago, everything felt like perfection. They’d clicked in some crazy, soul-mate, destiny-bullcrap kind of way. None of which she’d ever believed truly existed up until tonight. Now, she didn’t know what to think.

  “So you plan to go back to being Belch, the drunk guy.” She dropped his hand.

  He stared down at his feet for a moment. “I don’t honestly know, Margarita. But I can tell you this: if we are meant to be, then the rest will work out. That I know for certain. Relationships, just like people, must evolve as they’re meant to be. Change cannot and should not be forced. Otherwise, resentment is inevitable. I have watched it happen a million times to millions of couples over my existence.” He took her hand. “I must accept you as you are and you must accept me.”

  Easy to say, but she couldn’t ignore her priorities or the facts. She had a child to look after and couldn’t subject her to a life with some crazy god who was drunk all the time. As for herself, she didn’t want a life like that either. We can’t work. As much as I want him, we just…can’t.

  “I think I need a bio-break.” She pulled her hand away and pointed to the right of the dance floor. “Bathrooms are that way?”

  “Margarita,” he pleaded, “let us finish the date. Perhaps spending a few more hours together will make you feel differently about things.”

  “I don’t know. I just need,” she ran her hands over the top of her head, “I need to take a moment and think.”

  Disappointment reflected in his eyes. “Of course.” He stepped aside, allowing her to pass.

  She pasted on a polite smile and slid past him, ignoring how good he felt when their bodies touched.

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “You are coming back, right?” He stared deeply into her eyes. Was he reading her?

  I don’t know. I really, really don’t.

  “Sure.” She offered a weak smile, silently pleading with him to let her be. I need to think.

  He nodded solemnly, and she slipped away into the crowd, feeling his eyes on her the entire time. She sensed that he already knew what she’d just been thinking.

  God, this is awful. Everything was happening so fast, and much was on the line. But how could she give her heart to someone who had this other side?

  Dammit. Her heart hurt. Her brain ached. For the first time in her life she felt like everything was perfect, but at the same time, it was all wrong.

  “You must be her,” said a female voice as Margarita got in line for the bathroom.

  Margarita turned to find a statuesque blonde with long legs, creamy skin, and iridescent turquoise eyes, wearing a pink minidress.

  “Oh crap.” Margarita covered her mouth. “Yo-won-o-dem!”

  The blonde raised a brow. “I speak one hundred and seventy-seven languages, but sadly mumble is not one of them.”

  Margarita dropped her hand. “Sorry. It’s just…” She leaned in. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” The eyes were exactly like Acan’s.

  “Very astute. I am the Goddess of Forgetfulness, Belch’s sister.”

  “There’s a god of forgetting things?” That actually explained a lot. She forgot her shopping list, where she left her keys, to check her email daily, and to give herself breaks every four hours. Right now, she’d forgotten where she’d left her sanity.

  “Goddess. Not god,” the lady corrected.

  “Wait. I recognize you. You were in the DJ booth.”

  “Right again. Aren’t you a smart one? Which makes me wonder why Cimil insisted that in exactly five minutes, I will have to wipe your memory if you haven’t gone all in with my brother.”

  “Who’s Cimil?”

  “She is our sister—completely bat-shit crazy, so we never quite know when she’s telling the truth. But given the situation, I’m inclined to listen to her.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning millions of people will lose their heads if our brother doesn’t find his mate very soon.”

  Margarita pulled the goddess to the side, out of earshot from anyone. “That’s the thing. I’m his mate.”

  “So I heard. How’s that workin’ out for ya?”

  “I don’t think it’s going well.”

  “Oh, and why not?”

  “He’s two different people. One is horrible and dirty and has a giant gutter mouth. The other is very attractive and seems to want to make this world a better place.”

  “So…he’s exactly like you?”

  “Me? No. God no.”

  “You sure about that, honey? Because I’ve been alive for seventy M and that means I k
now people. They all have their ugly sides. It’s just that they hide it on the inside, unlike my brother. Whatcha see is whatcha get.”

  “I can’t argue with that, but when I’m at my worst, I still remember to wear pants. And I don’t call women bad names.”

  “I see your point.” She bobbed her head. “And I’m not going to lie: my brother can be a complete pig. He’s reckless, rude, and insensitive at times. But that’s only because he’s so young.”

  “How young?”

  “Seventy thousand years old, give or take a century or ten, but the point is, he never had boundaries, and until ten thousand years ago, he didn’t have a purpose. So in our world, he’s still got a lot of manning up to do.”

  “So he’s basically an immature a-hole, like most men,” Margarita assumed.

  Acan’s sister pointed her index finger and pulled the invisible trigger. “Yup.”

  “And he’ll improve with age?”

  “Yup again. Add a mate to the mix, and he’ll probably start acting like an honest to gods man.” She shrugged. “Mates seem to have a way of balancing each other out. It’s a Universe slash yin-yang thing, which is why he won’t turn evil if you two hit it off.”

  All right. This was good news. It was almost like the time she’d hit rock bottom with nowhere to go but up. Acan had nowhere to go but more mature.

  “I might be able to work with that as long as he’s committed.” Margarita felt elated. This was what she wanted: for them to work out.

  Acan’s sister toggled her head. “Well, then you’ve got exactly two minutes to find that out.”

  “Why two?”

  “One minute, fifty seconds, actually. In which time, I’m going to make you forget you ever met him. Sorry, but Cimil might be insane, but she’s rarely wrong.”

  Margarita gasped. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  Fuck. Margarita turned and sprinted back toward Acan’s bar, finding it completely vacant save the line of patient customers on the other side.

  Oh no. Oh no. Where is he? Margarita swiveled on her heel, her eyes searching frantically.