The Love Wager (Mr. Wrong Number, #2)(31)

Just looking at the guy as he shit-grinned at her made him annoyed as hell.

And the dude was wearing Chuck Taylors with a blazer; did he think he was a fucking talk show host?

“So to make a long story short, they shut down the college and arrested the dude.” Kayla tucked her hair behind her ears and said, “Can you even believe that?”

“No,” he said, feeling like shit for zoning out. He wasn’t an asshole, and Kayla deserved his full attention on their date, whether they had a connection or not.

“It was absolutely bonk—” Her phone started ringing, and when she looked down at the display she said, “I need to take this—it’s my roommate. Will you excuse me for a second?”

“Of course,” Jack said, wondering if it was a bailout call. He pretty much assumed everyone on a first date employed one, so he had no ill will if that’s what it was.

But the minute she stepped away, he pulled out his phone.

He texted: You sure about no tacos, TB?

He hit send.

And . . . wait. He watched Hallie glance down at her phone, read the message, then put her phone back in her pocket without responding.

She ignored his text.

Seriously?

For reasons he couldn’t explain, that bothered him. A lot. Where was his partner in crime? Was their alliance no longer a thing now that she’d landed a date she considered decent? He felt a little kicked to the side as she went about her date like she didn’t even know him.

Kayla returned to the table, and Jack managed to have a nice dinner with her. She was sweet and smart and funny, and he couldn’t find a single thing wrong with her.

So why was he in a hurry to finish the date?

He could tell she wanted him to kiss her when he walked her to her car, but he wasn’t feeling it and didn’t want to be fake. He told her he’d call her, and he went home.

Irritated as fuck and entirely unsettled by the blond creep.

He waited a few hours, and at midnight finally gave in to his urges.

Jack: Did you make it home okay?

Hallie: Ohmigod Jack I wanted to text you but I was afraid you were railing the PhD candidate or at home sleeping!

Jack: I’m doing both. What’s up?

Hallie: So dinner was great, and then he walked me home. He was super chatty and there was zero awkwardness, and then HE KISSED ME.

Jack: And . . . ?

Hallie: AHHHMAZING!!! He did the little face hold thing and I was done for. Small amount of tongue but not too much. It was kiss perfection.

Jack: That seems kind of forward, doesn’t it?

Hallie: What? Kissing on the first date? Are you a puritan now?

Jack: I just mean you don’t even really know the guy.

Hallie: I do, too. He’s in real estate, plays slow-pitch softball, his favorite color is salmon, and he likes getting railed.

His favorite color was fucking salmon?

Jack: Sounds like a dipshit.

Hallie: I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING.

Jack didn’t know why, but her words made him feel guilty of something. He texted: What do you mean?

Hallie: You want to win the bet, so you’re trying to sabotage the first good match I’ve had.

Jack: What’s his name again?

Hallie: Alex Anderson.

Jack: I’m looking him up.

Hallie: What? Don’t. Don’t do anything stupid.

Jack: I’m not. Just googling Mr. AA.

Hallie: Did you do any googling with Dr. Gorgeous?

Jack: I left her at her car and walked home all alone because you ditched me.

Hallie: We probably needed a break from Taco Hut anyway. I’ve gained a pound since we started our arrangement.

Jack: You look great—don’t give up.

Hallie: Hey. Do you want to go with me and Ruthie to find a cat tomorrow?

Jack: First of all, what the fuck—a cat? Second, you still haven’t told her?

Hallie: I’m calling you now.

His phone rang, and he raised it to his ear as he leaned back against the headboard and watched SportsCenter. “Hey, Piper.”

“So Ruthie showed up at my office today, wondering where my stuff had gone.”

“Oh, snap.”

“Right?”

Jack listened as she launched into a rambling story about her weird roommate and pet adoption. Something about the way Hallie told the story reminded him of the way she’d been in the kitchen of the hotel the night of the wedding.

Bossy, self-deprecating, funny, and charming as fuck.

“So we’re going right at eight before work to adopt a cat. Ruthie is a lot, so I was hoping you’d want to join us. Be the sane one in our cat-grabbing trio.”

“Maybe you should ask Alex,” he said, then immediately regretted it.

“I don’t want my pet to be affiliated with a potential love interest,” she said, and he thought she sounded sleepy. Her voice was just a little deeper, a smidge quieter, than usual. She said, “It could make things very complicated. I’d rather pick out my cat with my friends so there will be no ill cat will if I break his heart or vice versa.”

He said, “I can’t believe you’re getting a cat to avoid upsetting her.”

“Small price, really.”

That made him laugh because it was so ridiculous. “A pet that you have to feed and clean up after, till death do you part, is a small price?”