Blame It on the Tequila Read Online Fiona Cole

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
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“Thanks for helping me pack.”

Rae smacked a kiss to Nova’s cheek and faced me, walking right into my chest, forcing me back a few steps. Her glare held a fire so intense, I should have burned to ash right there.

“If you hurt her, I’ll use every resource I have to make your life a living hell. And don’t think I’ll go the easy route and have you killed,” she threatened with a laugh that kind of scared the shit out of me. “No, I’ll make you endure every second of whatever I can come up with. And I can come up with a lot.”

“Rae, I swear to all things holy,” Nova scolded.

With a forced smile, Rae gently guided Nova back into the apartment and slowly closed the door, holding up a finger for just a moment. When Nova tried to open it back up, Rae held it closed and turned back to me like the she-devil she was.

“She likes you, and I don’t know what the fuck you have going on with the succubus from New Year’s Eve, but you better clear it up before even looking at her for more than ten seconds, or else I’ll rip your eyeballs out with my bare hands and make you choke on them.”

She held me right where she wanted me with the intensity of her narrowed glare, and I just stood there frozen like a statue—my jaw unhinged. I struggled to match the words she just said to the petite brunette in front of me.

“Jesus-fuck, you’re violent.”

“It’s a gift.” And with that, she let go of the handle and walked away like nothing had happened.

Nova stepped back, giving me room to pass inside. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s good. I guess I’m glad you have a friend to look out for you—albeit slightly terrifying.”

She laughed and nodded, falling quiet. Her teeth worked her bottom lip, a sure sign of her nerves, and I didn’t hate that I affected her, at least in some way.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“We signed a contract,” I reminded her.

“I mean, I didn’t expect you to be the one to pick me up. I figured they’d just send a car.”

“Usually they do, but I offered to come with them to get you.”

“Oh.”

Another silence, and I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from fidgeting. The lack of noise sat uncomfortably around us. Nova and I never did awkward or quiet. We had music playing or were singing or debating. I hated the way it squeezed in, making the small apartment even tighter.

“You ready to go?” I asked, needing to get out of the tiny hallway.

“Yeah. Let me just get my bags.”

She turned and walked to the open area, leaving me to follow behind. The whole vibe of the apartment changed once I cleared the entryway. The walls were tall and white and open. She disappeared around a corner I assumed was her bedroom, and I took the time to look around for hints of Nova.

A sitting area in the corner with colorful throw pillows next to bookshelves and a TV, a small but modern kitchen, and what was probably the dining room, and the rest of the living room was covered in her art. The tall windows pouring light in from outside.

I studied her pictures on her shelves, taking in what I missed over the years.

A few more steps, and I noticed a nook behind her art and froze. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” she said, appearing just in time to take in my awe. “I like puzzles.”

“I think that’s an understatement.” A low shelf covered the bottom of the wall, but the rest, all the way to the ceiling, was covered with finished puzzles. Like a gallery covering every inch of white space. It should have been hectic and chaotic, yet somehow, Nova made it work.

I kind of loved it.

“I mean, I like comic books, but I haven’t plastered them over every inch of wall.”

“Well, maybe you should.”

I turned to find her studying me, studying the wall, two suitcases, and a backpack ready to go. “Want me to take one of those?”

“Sure. And can you grab that blanket?” She gestured to the one draped over the back of a chair. As soon as my hands grazed the material, I jerked back, tossing the blanket aside.

“Blech,” I gagged, opening and closing my fists.

She watched me like I’d grown a second head until her pinched brows softened to a look of understanding and finally a laugh. “Still hate the feel of Sherpa?”

“Yes. That shit is the worst. It gets caught on my callouses, and just…” I shuddered, trying to put words to the texture. Almost like nails on a chalkboard. “It just feels wrong.”

She snorted, and I mock glared when I walked past and snagged both suitcases. I walked out the door and turned just in time to get hit in the face with the blanket. On instinct, I reacted and started flailing to get it off me, only flailing harder when my hands rubbed the fabric.



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