Blame it on the Tequila by Fiona Cole (the reading strategies book txt) 📕

Then I imagined her not even opening the door to me—refusing to talk to me just like she had after New York.

An idea hit me, and I pulled out my phone to check on any online gossip sites that might have reported already on the event. Finding what I was looking for, I interrupted the concierge talking about his interaction with Brogan and Oren earlier and asked him a favor. He blinked a few times but happily agreed.

When I got off the elevator, I had an extra pep in my step, and instead of turning left toward the suites, I went right for Nova.

I knocked on the door and stood off to the side so she couldn’t see me through the peephole. I figured I’d have a better chance of her opening the door to a random knock than to me. At least, that’s what I hoped for because if she turned me away now, I needed her to open it for the concierge later.

No answer.

Checking my watch, I saw that it was just about eleven and knocked again, knowing damn well she’d be awake.

Unless she left.

I hated the panic that squeezed my chest with that thought. I hated that the thought came at all. She’d run so many times before, and standing there waiting for her to open the door, I replayed through the argument we had before I left and tried to pick out if it would have led her into running or not.

I knocked a little harder.

The door jerked open.

“What?” Nova snapped when she flung the door open.

She looked side to side for who knocked so incessantly and looked so stunning in her black leggings and shirt that claimed I hike because fuck people that I couldn’t do anything but smile, even though she rolled her eyes when she finally saw me and turned away.

“Go away, Parker,” she grumbled, attempting to close the door.

I slapped my hand out before it could close and prowled inside. She met me chest to chest but was forced to back up with my every step forward. The door clicked shut, and she jutted her chin, but the green of her eyes swirled with indecision, hurt, and want. Even if she didn’t want to want me, I saw it burning there. It reflected mine, a fire that ebbed and flowed but never died out.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Once we made it past the hallway and into the room, she shoved me back but only managed to put a few inches of distance between us.

“Coming to see you.”

“No. I don’t want you here.”

“Nova,” I said softly.

Only the lamp glowed from the end table. It perfectly illuminated the soft dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the fiery highlights in her hair I couldn’t help but imagine gripped tight in my fist. She stood before me, so stubborn, doing her best to make up for the six-inch difference between us. But while she glared, I took in every soft edge and elegant arch of her face, letting it etch itself on my soul and shine on the warmth that somehow grew each time I was with her. How did something so big keep growing inside me? She’d planted the seeds when we first met, and it twined with my veins, becoming a part of me, filling me to overflowing.

I saw it in her too, but she tried to hide it, and when she couldn’t, she jerked away, pacing to the other side of the room, just to turn back with her arms crossed.

“What. Do you want. Parker?” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

For as tightly coiled as she was, I stood relaxed, my hands loose by my side, a smile at the ready. “You.”

“Congratulations, but I’m not into open relationships.” She barked a humorless laugh and threw her arms up. “Not that we’re even in a relationship. I don’t even know what the hell we’re doing. In fact, I never knew what we were doing, so what’s new?”

“If it makes you feel better, I never knew what we were doing either. I just knew how you made me feel and how much I wanted that—how much I still want that.”

She licked her lips, swallowing, indecision marring her beautiful features. It was like watching a silent movie, a plethora of emotions displayed until finally settling back on irritated stubbornness. Back up went her chin.

“How was your date?” One brow rose like she had me cornered.

She had no idea.

I allowed my mouth to tip the slightest bit and dodged the question. We had maybe five more minutes before a knock came. “The event was great. The art was really good, and we raised a lot of money. You would have totally been in your element with all those artsy people. You know, you should have your art in a museum somewhere.”

She blinked, struggling to follow my quick transitions. “Well, I’m not really into the red carpet,” she sneered.

“You got to get past them quick—it’s the worst part—well, that and the food. Not that the food was bad, just minimal. I had to swing my McD’s on the way here, so I didn’t wither away to nothing.” Her brow furrowed, and her eyes widened when I shrugged my jacket off my shoulders. “But other than that, it was great. Other musicians of all kinds. Some fabulous art. Also, some weird art.”

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

I kept my face casual and rested my jacket on the back of the chair. “Getting comfortable.”

“I-I don’t want you here. Get comfortable in your own room.”

“Liar,” I whispered.

“No,” she snapped. “No. You don’t get to sleep in my bed every night and then ditch me to go on a date with some model.”

“I didn’t ditch you as I recall.”

“No, you just asked me to lay myself on a platter for public consumption.”

“No, I asked you to accompany me to an event.”

“It’s the same thing,” she shouted.

“It’s not. We could have