Page 3 of Wildly Inappropriate

She snorts into her drink. “You said ‘love match.’”

I glare at her. Of course I saidlove match. She’s been polluting my brain with tales of romance for months now.

“So what happened with your most recent not-love-match?” I ask.

“He dumped me.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, technically, he just ‘clarified we weren’t dating.’” She fiddles with the little black straw in her cup, her eyes fully focused on the row of TVs behind the bar.

“Tough look for you,” I taunt.

“You did sort of help me save face in the whole thing,” she admits begrudgingly.

I raise an eyebrow, and she sighs before continuing, “It was that first night you texted me about Jameson, and Andrew may have noted that I was talking to another guy.”

“And?” I press.

“And when he saw a man’s name—your name—on my text messages, he jumped to the conclusion I was talking to some other guy. Oh God, you should’ve seen his face. He was so relieved he didn’t have to break up with me. And since I didn’t want to look like a loser who thought we were more than we were, I just went along with it.”

“Wait. He was glad you were texting another guy? Not jealous like any normal guy would be?” Like I would certainly be if I were in his place.Wait. What? No. I didn’t mean that. I would be relieved, just like him, that Lila Walker didn’t think we were dating.

“Yep. So, in a way, you actually made something better for once in your life.”

“Except for now that asshat thinks we’re dating,” I say.

“No. He thinks I was talking to some guy named JT two months ago.”

“It’s still possible he put two and two together.”

“He is getting his master’s in engineering, so I would hope it’s at least possible.”

“Do you still like him?” I ask, not knowing why I care.

She lets out a low, self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know. It’s humiliating, though. Can you imagine if hehadrealized I thought we were dating?”

Before I have a chance to answer, she continues, “And now I’m clearly inebriated enough to be telling this toyou, which means it’s likely time for me to go to bed.”

She’s not wrong. I’d normally be all over embarrassing information about Lila. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the slice of tan skin peeking out under the edge of her skirt, or the lack of our usual chaperone tonight, but I don’t feel the spark at the thought of taking her down with a barb right now. Instead, I extend my hand, helping her off her stool.

“Come on, Pipsqueak, I’ll walk with you to the elevator.”

Chapter two

Lila

JT Johnson towers overme as I unstick my legs from the stool I’ve been sitting on for the last few hours. He’s officially six feet two, which I know because I’ve studied professional golfers’ height, weight, and age statistics on more than one occasion. It’s not as creepy or unrealistic as it sounds—with a brother who’s a top ten golfer in the world, I have the opportunity to run into a potential professional golfer boyfriend at any time.

“You good?” he asks as I settle a bit unsteadily to my feet.

I nod, but I’m definitely not sober right now. Certainly not drunk, but if forced to pick one of the two…

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” I ask, realizing he is likely up way too late for a work night. “It’s a bit late for an old man like you to be out gallivanting.”

His eyes cut to me as he leads me onto the casino floor, taking a shortcut to the elevator. “I’m not old.”

I smile at him before catching the toe of my heeled sandal on the carpet. JT reaches out, steadying me, and I jump slightly as his large hand grips my upper arm, heat shooting from the point of contact throughout my body. Glancing up at his face, I see my reaction mirrored back in his eyes.

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