Page 47 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

I should be there for her, he thought, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. It wasn’t just about the baby; it was about being there for Allison, too.

But how could he be there for her if she didn’t even answer her damn phone?

He glanced at the screen again, as if the simple act of willing her to respond might magically make it happen. Eachunanswered call felt like a dagger, amplifying his sense of helplessness.

What if something’s wrong?

The thought gnawed at him, twisting his gut in knots.

Angelo dropped into his chair, the weight of the day pressing down on him. He rubbed his temples, trying to clear the fog of frustration. He had been a fool to think he could just check in and everything would be fine. This wasn’t just a casual date; this was about their future—and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was losing his chance to be part of it.

Angelo took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. He reminded himself that they had agreed she’d check in if she ever needed him, and it had only been a few hours since the appointment. He trusted that she would reach out if she needed anything.

If she isn’t too stubborn for that.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought. From what he knew of Allison, she was definitely headstrong—his prideful girl.

No, no. Not mine.

“Yet,” whispered the little monster in his mind once more.

Seriously, why are you even talking?

The monster didn’t reply, of course. Angelo knew it wouldn’t. Just like he knew therewasno monster—it was all his subconscious playing tricks on him because it was acutely aware of how much he wanted Allison for himself.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow exhale.

Focus, Angelo.

He needed to keep his head clear. Whatever was happening between them, it was complicated enough without him spiraling into jealousy. The reality was that he was ready to step up, but first, he had to make sure Allison knew she could rely on him.

Angelo was back in his apartment two hours later.

Four hours without contact with Allison.

Insanity threatened to claim his mind.

He was pacing, drilling a hole in his hardwood floors as he waited for Allison to pick up her fuckingphone.

Angelo’s mind was reeling with the possibilities of how their little date might be going.

What if they’re together now?

What if he’s stroking her skin and tangling his fingers in her hair?

What if she’s on her knees for him, looking up at the bastard like he’s her everything?

What if he’s taking her and she’s enjoying it, screaming his name?

Or worse, what if she isn’t enjoying it and he’s forcing himself on her?

Fucking pick up.

Angelo huffed and glanced at his phone once more before deciding to push her out of his mind. For now.

He was going to give her one hour. If she didn’t call or text him within that time frame, he would resort to calling his private investigator.

No, he hadn’t been kidding earlier. This was, without a doubt, the best hire he’d ever made—the most sought-after and highly paid investigator in the U.S., if not the entire world.

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