Page 123 of Bitter Rival

But her life is in Brooklyn and in all the cities she travels to for work, and my life is in San Francisco so there’s no point in dwelling on it.

Not like we ever had a future. We’re not even in a real relationship.

We’re just two people who made the best of a less-than-ideal situation.

Friends with benefits. A casual fling. Nothing more.

But maybe a night out isn’t such a bad idea. We could both use a change of scenery.

No need to label it as an official date.

Now I’m googling date-worthy restaurants and reading Yelp reviews for a tapas place that has a romantic patio like a lovesick teenybopper.

A romantic patio?

Who even am I?

Oh right. I’m the asshole who cut his hand on the thorns of the roses her ex sent.

The same asshole scheming ways to keep Daisy in Sutton Ridge to avoid seeing the ex.

Caiden says something and I grunt in response. No idea what he said. I’m too busy scrolling.

And just like that, I have the whole evening planned.

What better way to appreciate a movie than at a drive-in? Daisy will get a kick out of that. It will speak to her retro-loving heart. And I’m confident that watching Pulp Fiction with Daisy will be an experience like no other. She’ll dissect the characters’ goals and motivations, discuss the fashion, the music, and the cinematography, and put her own unique spin on the storyline.

After firing off a text informing Daisy that we’re going out tonight, I pocket my phone and throw some cash on the bar for my lunch. “I need to get going. I’ve got some errands to run.”

“Whoa.” Caiden holds up his hand like a traffic cop. “I just remembered that bet.” He holds out his palm and wiggles his fingers. “Time to pay up.”

I shoot him a scowl. “I never accepted that bet. What I do with Daisy is my business and none of yours.”

With a shake of my head, I stride to the door.

Does he think we’re still in high school?

“Called it,” Caiden crows.

“Have fun on your date,” Ledger calls.

I hear them laughing as the door closes behind me.

If you’re going to do something, there’s no point in half-assing it.

Which is why I show up at the front door with an enormous bouquet of flowers and a gold-foil box of hand-dipped chocolate-covered strawberries and orange peels.

Don’t ask me why I’m ringing the bell like I’m here to pick up my prom date, but it’s easier than trying to unlock it with both hands full.

The door swings open and Daisy’s smile slips. “What is this?”

“What does it look like? I got you flowers.” I thrust the bouquet at her. It’s so big she needs to use both hands to hold it. I can barely see her face behind the blooms.

“You got me flowers?”

I grab one of the terracotta urns from the front steps, the only vessel large enough to hold all the flowers, and trail Daisy to the kitchen.

After filling the urn halfway up with water from the faucet, I set it on the island.

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