Fighting Fire with Fire
PENELOPE
Sienna was right.
Her bar around the corner, the one she’d been dying to take me to, was just what I needed.
The men were hot, the drinks were strong, and Sienna’s stomach was even stronger. A fourth Patrón shot of the night had set the tone for laughs and liquor. By the time I was on the fifth, I could no longer taste the bite from the tequila, and I’d thrown away the salt and lime along with any inhibitions.
I talked to Sienna about things I probably shouldn’t have…
I slammed my shot glass on the bar.
“You can’t keep letting this happen,” Sienna shot at me.
“What?”
“This,” she motioned in the air. “Getting riled up. Letting a little phone call throw you off your game.”
“It didn’t.” I gripped the edge of the bar. “I’m not letting that phone call
