The Love Wager (Mr. Wrong Number, #2)(36)

She liked talking to him, really, but she couldn’t help but notice their conversations lacked the fun that always accompanied a call with Jack. It was probably an unfair comparison, though, because no one had the easy banter she and Jack had. They were friends, which was what made it so comfortable and natural, and she and Alex were still becoming something.

It had nothing to do with Jack, and everything to do with their newness.

Easy explanation.





Jack


Jack was waiting for the hotel elevator when his phone buzzed. It was Hallie.

Hallie: Help! Going to dinner and can’t choose.

The picture that followed was of two pairs of shoes— high-heeled black boots and a pair of black pumps.

The elevator doors opened, and Jack stepped inside before texting her back.

Jack: Depends on the outfit.

Hallie: Okay, one sec.

As he rode the elevator down to the lobby, he had a hard time not smiling, picturing Hal hopping on one foot as she tried putting on her shoes quickly.

She texted: Option #1.

It was a picture of the whole outfit, and he did smile then. Hallie looked gorgeous in a black dress, tall boots, and red lipstick, but her tongue was out and her eyes were crossed.

The doors opened and Jack started walking toward the lobby.

Jack: Boots are sexy, that face is not.

Hallie: How about this sexiness?

She included a close-up of her ridiculous face.

Jack: Hot. #2 please.

Jack exited out into the chilly fall evening and started in the direction of his favorite bar. He’d always loved downtown Minneapolis, and for some reason, it smelled and felt even better while he was texting Hallie.

He didn’t know how it’d happened, but she’d completely taken over his brain.

Every morning when he went for a run, she was what he was thinking about.

And he spent way too much time every day trying to figure out what the hell to do about it. Because the bottom line was that even though he had feelings for her beyond friendship, it might not be worth it to do anything about it if that meant risking everything else they had.

Which explained why he was helping her get dressed for a date instead of asking her to go on one with him.

He was halfway to the pub before she texted back: Here’s #2.

It was a photo of Hallie wearing heels, the outfit both elegant and smoking hot. Her eyes were half-closed, in an exaggerated sexy face and ridiculous pout.

Jack: #1 is my fave but #2 is classy if you’re going for that. And also don’t make that face.

Hallie: I will go with 1 because it’s just dinner. And I thought I looked sexy AF.

Jack gritted his teeth as he remembered what this was for. Duh.

Jack: Going out with Alex?

Hallie: I really think you’d like him if you gave him a chance.

He dialed her number, and she was laughing when she answered. “You would, Jack.”

God, it was pathetic, the way the sound of her voice shot through him like a buzz. “Doubtful. Where are you going?”

She said the name of a restaurant he’d never heard of, and he said, “No matter how good the food is, don’t put out. The third-date rule is bullshit and you shouldn’t cave to that pressure.”

What in the fuck was that? He kind of wanted to punch himself in the face for that one.

“What are you, fifteen?” She was laughing and outraged all at the same time, he could tell. “I will put out—gross, by the way—if I feel like it, thank you very much.”

He knew it was immature, but the thought of her kissing Alex made his gut hurt. Hell, the thought of her kissing any man made his gut hurt. He wasn’t sure how he’d gone from zero to full-bore feelings for Hal, but it made him feel like a bit of a shit show. “I just meant that he seems a little slick to me and I want you to be careful.”

“Awww,” she said, her voice teasing and quiet. “It’s so adorable when you make me want to hug you and throat-punch you all at the same time.”

“That’s my sweet spot,” he said, trying to force himself to stop thinking about her and Alex.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.

“Walking to a bar to eat in solitude.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone,” she said, sounding ridiculously cheery.

“Nah,” he said.

“Why not? You don’t like Minnesota girls?”

“I don’t like meeting strangers in bars.”

“I’m sorry—what?”

“Seriously.”

“The judges need clarification. Jack Marshall, man known to get freaky in hotel elevators with red-hot bartenders he doesn’t know, doesn’t like picking up chicks in bars?”

“I’ve always thought it was creepy.”

She sounded amused when she said, “Please explain.”

“It just seems idiotic to see someone and decide you like their appearance enough to start a conversation. It feels so . . . ?”

“Superficial?”

“Bingo.”

“I have to go put on makeup, but I’m intrigued by this side of you. So you’re saying it seems wrong to select a possible mate by their looks without considering their brain first?”

“You have a way with words, and yes.”