The Love Wager (Mr. Wrong Number, #2)(24)

He felt like a pathetic fuck whenever she brought it up, because he had been going through some weird emo phase over the past couple years. He had friends, coworkers, family—his life was full of people—yet he felt alone a lot.

Even when he was with them.

Shit—that is the literal definition of loneliness, isn’t it?

“Fine, you weren’t lonely.” She sounded utterly unconvinced. “Just promise me you’ll take the app seriously and keep trying, even when it sucks.”

“I will if you’ll promise to butt the hell out of my life.”

“Deal,” she said.





Hallie


Before she had a chance to get off the couch, her phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, um, is this Hallie?”

“Yes . . . ?”

“Oh, good. Hey, it’s Lydia from the leasing office at the Commons. There was a miscommunication within our office, and the apartment you’ll be renting is all cleaned and ready if you wanted to move in early.”

“Oh.” Hallie had not expected that. “Um, how much more would it be?”

“That’s the thing.” The leasing agent lowered her voice and said, “I screwed up the paperwork, so basically if you want to move in now, it’ll be the same. Rent will be due on the first, for the amount listed in your lease.”

“So I can move in now and get a couple weeks for free?” She couldn’t believe it. Hallie didn’t have bad luck, per se, but she’d never had especially good luck, either.

“If you come in when I’m working.”

Hallie was all of a sudden screamingly excited. “How much longer are you working today?”

“Until four.”

“Ohmigod, I’m on my way.”

Hallie ran to her car, cranked the radio, and flew downtown, beside herself with excitement over this surprising turn of events. She’d never lived alone before, especially not in a cool (though tiny) apartment, and she was pumped to move in early.

Maybe, she thought as she exited the interstate and followed the off-ramp, she could move all her stuff out before Ruthie came back (the living room furniture was all Ruthie’s, so it wouldn’t be a jerk move). Then she wouldn’t have to worry about awkwardly trying to pack silently in her room, and if Ruthie responded badly to the news, Hallie could just leave and never return.

When she pulled into the apartment office, her phone buzzed.

Jack: I already lost one of my two women.

That made Hallie giggle. What’d you do?

Jack: I told her that I didn’t like orangutans.

Hallie: First of all, is this true? Second of all, this upset her?

Jack: I know it’s a character flaw, but I’m terrified of all monkey-like creatures; always have been. I saw a lady on Oprah who got her face ripped off by one and I was never the same. So when she started telling me about an orangutan preserve she wanted to visit, I may have said something similar to “I’d rather die than go there.”

Hallie: You are a monster. I have a good friend who literally cries when she sees a cute orangutan because she loves them so much. BUT. Your comment torqued her off that much?

Jack: My comment big-time torqued her. She went on a rant about them, which I deserved, and then she went off about undatable men, which I felt was a low blow.

Hallie: Why is this story cracking me up?

Jack: Cuz you’re a dick. What’re you doing right now?

Hallie: Just pulled up to my new building. They’re letting me move in early!!!

Jack: What about Ruthie?

Hallie laughed and looked out her windshield. Funny that he remembered Ruthie’s name. She left me a msg that she’s not coming back for another week.

Jack: So you’re just going to be gone?

Hallie: No, but I can move my stuff out now. Everything in the living room is hers, so it’s not like she’ll even notice, because my bedroom door is always closed.

Jack: LMK if you want help moving.

Hallie: Seriously?

Jack: I’m a nice guy.

Hallie: But are you?

Jack: Sometimes. And I live nearby.

Hallie: Well then, yes. I want help. Please, please help.

Jack: When?

Hallie: I’m getting the keys now, and then I guess whenever you have time today would be great. You don’t have a truck, do you?

Jack: I actually do.

Hallie: Shut up.

Jack: I will not.

Hallie: You don’t seem like a truck guy.

Jack: Are you calling me a wuss?

Hallie: No. I think most guys who drive trucks do it to prove they’re manly. You strike me as someone confident enough in his masculinity to drive a Prius.

Jack: So you ARE calling me a wuss.

Hallie: You’re an idiot.

Jack: Better, thanks. Call me when you’re done and we’ll hatch a plan.

Well, the plan turned out to be something along the lines of “just do it.” After getting the keys, running up to her new place, calling Jack, and dancing around like a maniac, she went home and threw her stuff together.

Jack showed up an hour later and got to work, hauling her bed, dresser, nightstand, and desk out the door like he was the Rock. She helped, but they both knew she was more like a spotter than an equal lifter.

On a side note, he looked very good in casual clothing. She’d only ever seen him in a tux, naked, and in nicer date-night clothes so far, but that day, he was wearing faded old jeans and a Cubs T-shirt that was so worn it looked baby soft. He looked like the kind of guy they’d cast in a commercial for grabbing beers with the guys or picking up two-by-fours at a home improvement store.