Hauling my ass out of the chair, I helped Parker clean up, then wondered what I was supposed to do—should I leave?—but he just grabbed the bottle of wine and our glasses. I followed him into the living room and he sat down on the sofa, setting the bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of it. So I sat there, too, and he handed me my glass.
I figured I should probably stop drinking as I could feel it had already gone to my head, but that’s the thing with drinking—by the time you realize it’s going to your head, you just don’t care. And not caring about anything was an intoxicating feeling (no pun intended). Definitely a Catch-22, that, plus I’d never been great at knowing when to say when.
“I thought you and Ryker were having dinner tonight,” Parker said. A non-question question.
“We did,” I said. “Sorta. But we got in a fight before we could order and then he got called back to work, so there wasn’t really food involved.”
“A fight? What did you fight about?” Parker finished his wine and added more to his glass, then poured the rest of the bottle into mine.
“You.” It kind of popped out and I winced.
“What about me?” He settled back against the couch, stretching an arm along the top behind me and turning his body slightly my way as he took another drink of his wine. I wondered if I should be talking about this with Parker, but it was kind of late to be worrying about it now. I gave a mental shrug.
“He wants me to quit. Says I should get a ‘real job.’ ”
Parker froze for a moment, so briefly I wondered if I’d imagined it, then he swallowed the wine and set the glass aside.
“What did you tell him?”
“That we’ve only been dating a few months and I’m not going to turn my life upside down for someone when I don’t know where it’s going,” I said, my irritation at Ryker plain to hear in my tone. I took a big swig of wine, tears stinging my eyes because even though I was mad at Ryker, I hated to be in a fight with him.
“Hey, it’s okay, don’t cry.” Parker took my glass from me and pulled me closer with an arm around me, being careful of my shoulder that had the stitches. “Maybe he’s just under pressure right now at work.”
It was almost too easy to lean against him as I sniffed and tried to blink away the damn tears. “Yeah, maybe,” I mumbled. “I don’t understand why he can’t just let it go. We’re practically living together and he still acts like he’s jealous of you.”
Parker’s hand was running a light path down my back, then up, but it paused.
“You’re living together?”
I nodded, hoping I wasn’t getting makeup on his pristine shirt. “Yeah. I think so. Mostly.”
His hand resumed its path and I closed my eyes. I felt my body relax into his.
“If that’s not something you want, then you should tell him,” Parker said gently. “Don’t let him rush you. There’s no hurry.”
I tipped my head back to look at him, which was a mistake, because that’s when I realized how close our faces were to each other. More importantly, how close his lips were.
Oh God.
He had his arm around me as I leaned against him and the scent of his cologne surrounded me. His face was tilted down, his blue gaze locked on mine, and I could feel the beat of his heart through his chest against my ribs. Or maybe that was my heart beating so rapidly.
Longing struck. That deep pang inside me that I thought I’d vanquished when it came to Parker. Turned out it wasn’t vanquished, just buried real deep. All the thoughts I’d had about why I couldn’t tell Ryker I loved him swirled with a sick feeling of guilt inside my head.
I pushed against him and he kept his hold on me just long enough to send a silent message before dropping his arms. Hurriedly I stood, albeit slightly unsteady on my feet. I didn’t know if that was from the wine, what had almost just happened, or both.
Parker was up and gently held my arms until I was balanced, standing so close I could just lean forward an itty bit and lick that triangle of skin that his unbuttoned shirt revealed …
“I gotta go,” I said, stumbling backward. I righted myself and made a beeline for the kitchen and where I’d dropped off my shoes and purse.
I was busy trying to shove my feet into my heels—when had it gotten to be so complicated a procedure?—when Parker spoke. I hadn’t even heard him follow me. His voice was right at my ear and he rested a hand on my shoulder, startling me. I spun around to face him and his hand dropped.
“You seem kind of tipsy,” he said. “Why don’t you stay here for a while? I don’t want to send you home like this.”
But I shook my head. “I’m fine. Coming tonight was probably not the best idea.”
“Why is that?”
He was still so close. I took a step back and hit the wall.
I swallowed hard before answering. “Because I can’t do this,” I said. I had to get through to him. This had to stop. “I’m with Ryker, and you’re … toying with me … and I can’t … I just … I can’t—”