Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Not leavin’.”
“Yes, you are. There’s the door.” I point to it with my now crooked finger.
“I’m not leavin’, babe. You better get used to me being here until they find the guy who attacked you.”
I step toward him, lifting my chin. “First off, don’t call me babe.” I poke. A lot gentler this time. “Second…” I don’t really have a second. His head tilts, his lips looking absolutely scrumptious. And since I’m drunk and horny… and maybe sad, lonely, and a little off my rocker, I rise onto my tippy toes and press my lips to his.
My entire body crackles with electricity. I wrap my arms around his neck and press harder into him, needing more. His lips are full and soft and… not moving.
Suddenly, his large hands are at my waist, setting me away from him. “You’re wasting your time. This is a job for me. Nothing else.”
It takes me a minute to catch up. A mixture of anger and humiliation sparks in my eyes. I can almost see the flames through the reflection in his. I take a step back, wiping my lips. “Thank you.” I nod. “For stopping me. That would have been an absolute mistake.” I shove down the rejection and smother it with lies. “Honestly. Fucking gross.” I wipe my lips again, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears forming in my eyes, then turn on my heel, yelling over my shoulder. “Sooo gross. Going to go vomit now.”
I sway down my tiny hallway into my room and slam the door.
That kiss, even one-sided, was far from gross.
Fuck.
My bedroom smells like a tequila factory. I can smell it under my sheets while suffocating myself with my pillow. And I know a lot of it is because I barfed in my garbage can last night. Now, I’m lying in bed, fighting off a new round of vomit because of the old vomit. My stomach lurches, and I roll onto my side, embarrassed. I’m usually the one who can hold my liquor. I can’t even remember the last time I puked. I blame it on the copious amount of stress and humiliation. What the hell was I thinking last night? I bury my face deeper into my pillow and groan. Seriously, Parks? Had to go and kiss your watchdog! Talk about complete and utter desperation. His words ring like acid in my ears. Got the wrong idea. I’m here for a job. God! I’m so pathetic.
Sitting up, I throw my legs off the bed and scoop a T-shirt up off the floor. Seems I stripped completely naked before passing out. I open my door, listening for any noise, then use the bathroom and head out to the living room. If he even dares bring up that kiss, it’s game on. The name of the game is “Ignorance is Bliss.” When I enter the living room, just like yesterday, I only find the folded blanket and pillow.
“Wow.” All it took was making a pass at him to get him off my back? I brush off the fact that I’m losing my touch with men and make a pot of coffee. Again, like yesterday, my doorknob starts to jiggle. “Not this again.” The door opens before I can snag a pan, and Tate walks in, holding a screwdriver. His eyes find mine, and I quickly spit out, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Say again?”
Same. I have no idea why I blurted that out. “I said I have no idea if you want coffee or not. Do you?” Nice save.
He stares at me, his face blank, then nods. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Yup.” I turn around and count each drop that drips into the pot, hoping it helps my heart rate slow the eff down. Grabbing my phone from the counter, I shoot Fay a text.
Me: Hey. Are you alive? Someone broke into my room last night and barfed in my trashcan. So strange. Whoever it was must have had a lot of tequila. Anywho, hope Theo isn’t too mad. Any chance he has any new leads? Really need this oaf out of my apartment.
She doesn’t reply immediately, so I put my phone down and grab two mugs. My phone dings, and I snag it to read her reply.
Fay Fay:
Fay Fay: Ughhh…I think I died at some point and Theo had to revive me. But it was only to yell at me for puking in his car.
Great. Theo is never going to let her go out with me again.
Fay Fay: He hasn’t given me any updates. Sorry, girl. You got this. At least you have eye candy.
Yeah, sour candy. Blah. I ditch my phone, pour two cups, and make my way to the living room, where Tate is surprisingly watching TV. I hand him his mug while he reads the side.