Page 125 of Dream Chaser

“She’s neither,” I said. Nova had character. A personality. More resilience than most people I knew.

“Thank God you see that.” Scarlett sighed, flicking invisible lint off her coat’s lapel. “I won’t make the same mistake twice. If you hurt her, I’ll make you regret it.”

I smiled at her fierceness, then glanced at Nova, peacefully asleep as streetlights cast a glow across her face.

“I won’t hurt her, Scarlett,” I said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Nova

January

The bed I woke up in wasn’t mine. Neither was the soft cotton T-shirt I was wearing. I blinked, then sat up, rubbing my palms over my face. Rain drummed against the window, matching the frantic rhythm of my heartbeat.

Then memories came—the club. Scarlett confessing she’d told Alejandro where we were. His arms around me during the countdown. Afterward, everything was hazy.

I fell back against the pillows, letting the mattress swallow me. Soft footsteps approached. Heat blanketed my face as Alejandro paused in the doorway, arms folded on his chest, a black T-shirt clinging to his muscles.

“Buenos días,” he said, a ghost of a smile passing over his lips.

I cleared my parched throat. “Am I fired?”

He crossed to the bed and leaned down. “Aún no.”

“That’s advanced Spanish. Too much for my current cognitive skills,” I said.

Laughter rumbled in his chest. “I said not yet.” He skimmed his lips over my forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to regret every single tequila shot later.”

“Wait.”

He walked out of the room and returned with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a pill. “Advil for your headache,” he said, “assuming you have one.”

“Starting to.” I sighed, then took a sip of juice and popped the pill into my mouth. “Thank you. I’m never drinking again.”

A twitch of his lips. “Not even coffee? I made some. We can have breakfast in bed or in the kitchen. Up to you.”

“Kitchen. Just give me a moment to use the bathroom.”

“No rush.” Alejandro smoothed his hand down my hair, sliding his fingers through the ends. Goose bumps broke out across my skin. I’d missed his touch, and that he was here with me still felt unreal. “Come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Once he left, I padded to the en suite. A new pink toothbrush sat on the vanity beside a bottle of makeup remover and cotton pads. A makeup-free face stared back at me from the silver-framed mirror above the sink.

His thoughtfulness chipped away at the last piece of armor shielding my heart. How could I not have feelings for him?

After using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I joined Alejandro in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee mingled with chocolate. A plate of churros sat on the table.

“Thought you might want to try the traditional Spanish New Year’s Day breakfast.” He pulled a chair out for me. “If not, I have toast, yogurt, and fruit.”

“No. This is perfect.”

He poured hot chocolate for both of us. Comfortable silence stretched as we sat at the table, hands wrapped around our mugs. It was always easy with him. Effortless. I could get used to this, and a part of me was afraid to.

I bit off a piece of churro, humming with my eyes closed. “This is perfect.”

“We usually sprinkle it with sugar,” he said. “Want to try?”