Page 20 of Bad Call

I chose Capri, an Italian restaurant on the outskirts of Mapleview, for its distance. Distance meant discretion. When I lived in SoCal, it was difficult to go anywhere without running into someone I had slept with. The grocery store, a club, or movie theater, almost every single restaurant… They were everywhere—past bedmates, dates gone wrong, clingy stalkers who thought running into me again was fate and a reason to start calling again. If I could avoid that happening in Mapleview, that would be excellent. This was a much smaller town than my last one.

The maître d’ told me no one had checked in for my party, and I allowed him to show me to a table so I could order a drink while I waited. I sipped my soda, slowly, constantly checking the time on my phone. She was tenminutes late, but I could excuse that. Women were usually late for one reason or another. Maybe she had kids and needed to find a sitter. Maybe she had to stop for gas or got stuck in traffic. My eyes constantly scanned the front door, hoping the next woman who walked in was attractive, and her name was Casy.

Fucking fuck.

Then the last person I expected—or wanted—to see walk in was Casey fucking Collins! No doubt he would pull out all the stops to ruin my date, just because he could. Lifting my menu, I tried to cover my face, but it was too late. He’d seen me.

He stopped beside my table. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Eating?” Did I really have to provide an answer? What did he think people did here?

“And I’m supposed to believe you just happened to choose the one restaurant that I chose to eat at? A restaurant way out of the way of where either of us live.”

This asshole thinks I’m stalking him? “How do you know where I live?”

“I’m assuming you live in town.”

“You know what they say about assumptions; you make an ass out of you and me.”

“So you don’t live in town?”

Oh Jesus, enough already! “If you’re here to eat, just go fucking sit down.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, taking the table beside me.

Beside me!Was he fucking kidding me? He’d be ableto hear every word I spoke to my date.Ifshe ever showed. It was beginning to look like I’d been stood up.

Taking another sip of my soda, I became hyper aware of him sitting behind me, and I hated that I wasn’t facing toward him so I could keep an eye on him. Was he staring at me? Was he watching the door for someone like I was?

After another couple of minutes, he asked, “Are you eating alone?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “No, are you?”

“I’m meeting someone.”

Apparently not, as we were both still sitting alone after another five minutes had passed. I logged into the dating app, checking for a message from Casy, but there was nothing. Clicking on her profile, I went over her information again—what little of it there was. And it began to dawn on me in the most horrific way.

The more I thought about it, the tighter the puzzle pieces began to fit together. Turning around in my chair so I could fully face him, I studied Casey for a moment. He was engrossed in his phone and didn’t notice I was staring.

“Did you match with someone on Lucky Connections?”

He glanced up, looking pissed. “Are you stalking me there now, too?”

That confirmed it. Casey Collins was my date. It was hilarious and ridiculous and totally disappointing. “I think you’re my date.”

He looked horrified. “You’ve got to be fucking kiddingme.”

Ditching my table, I took a seat at his. I pulled up his profile and showed him my phone. “Casy with no e?”

“It’s a typo,” he insisted.

“Well, you’ve got a juicy ass. I thought you were a woman.”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Andrew.”

“That’s my middle name,” I smirked, knowing the omission and subsequent confusion added to how pissed off he was.

“This is ridiculous!” He slammed his fist on the table, making the ice cubes in my drink rattle. “I was expecting to?—”

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