Free The Fangover by Erin McCarthy, Kathy Love Page A

mind.
    How was she supposed to process all of this, period? She certainly couldn’t process it all at once, that was for sure. She needed time to think. She needed . . .
    “I need a drink.”
    Cort stopped his determined stride, turning to look at her. The parrot fluttered its wings at the sudden stop. Both man and bird studied her for a moment.
    “Are you alright?”
    “What do you think?”
    “Katie,” he said, taking a step toward her, but she backed away. She didn’t want him too close to her. Not right now. She knew full well that his nearness would just serve to confuse her more.
    Of course that wasn’t a new sensation. She was very accustomed to that particular feeling. She’d been experiencing it since the very first time she’d met him.
    She’d just finished the last set of the day with her zydeco band, Beau and the Bayou Band, and she’d decided to stay for a drink with her favorite bartender, Jacob. A usual day on Bourbon. Until Berto Cortez had walked into the Old Opera House, tall and lean and mussed in a perfectly sexy way. She’d been instantly attracted to his swarthy, Mediterranean good looks and charming smile. But she’d especially loved his dark eyes that managed to look sleepy and intense all at once. He’d strolled up to the bar and introduced himself to her and Jacob, telling them that he was the new lead singer of The Impalers and to call him Cort.
    From that very first meeting, she had been in serious lust with him, even though she never acted on her feelings. For the last three years, they’d talked only on an amicable level, two musicians working on Bourbon Street at the same bar. Never had Cort been anything but polite and friendly, no signs of attraction. Certainly no signs of lust.
    And now they might be married. She might be married to Cort the vampire. And she was a vampire herself. This was nuts.
    “A drink is probably a good idea, actually. A little hair of the dog,” Cort said, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she looked like she needed it, or because he himself did. Not that it much mattered, she just wanted some time to process what she knew before they found out anything more.
    Katie knew she was a happy, sensible person. She also knew people considered her a good girl. Not prone to drama, or excitement of any kind, really. Downright boring, some might say. In fact, she’d always hated the lack of excitement in her life. That’s why she’d left her dull, small-town existence to play in a zydeco band in New Orleans. Wild, decadent, dangerous New Orleans. But even with this big move, she’d still managed to have a pretty humdrum existence.
    Until now. Now she’d managed to find excitement in spades.
    Maybe she didn’t really want excitement after all. But she did want that drink.
    “Let’s go here,” Cort said, pointing to a small bar across the street.
    In all her time living in the Quarter, she couldn’t recall ever noticing this place, not that she cared where they went as long as she could get a very, very stiff vodka and tonic with extra lime.
    They walked up a couple of dirty, concrete steps and through the open door of the small, dimly lit room. A few patrons were scattered along a glossy wooden bar, each of them seeming to be there alone, focused on their drinks rather than finding companionship.
    That worked for her. Katie walked to the end of the bar and slid onto one of the wooden stools. Cort took a seat beside her, his shoulder brushing hers briefly as he situated himself.
    The parrot hopped down from his shoulder to his forearm, then down the bar, waddling a few steps, before whistling loudly.
    The bartender looked in their direction instantly.
    “Jack and Coke. Jack and Coke,” the bird chanted in its strange voice as the man approached.
    “Well, the bird certainly knows how to get service,” Cort said, shaking his head.
    Katie probably would have been amused on any other day, but all she cared about at the moment was ordering her own