Page 54 of The Valentine's Bet

What’s wrong with me tonight?

Maybe it’s the fact I knew the hospital employees assumed we were a couple—though they never asked. Maybe it’s the fact that I just want to help Amy feel better and seeing her like this tugs at my heartstrings.

I really don’t know.

But I’m too tired to keep worrying about it on the drive back or as I help her out of the cab and into the elevator.

“I can take it from here,” she says as she limps into the elevator.

But I don’t let go, stepping in with her. “We’ve come this far. Better go all the way.”

Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t argue. “I’m so sorry I ruined your date.” Amy’s voice is nearly inaudible as the words come out. “I bet Louise was really disappointed.”

I look down at her, but her eyes are on her boot. “You know, Amy...” She finally looks up at me—and I lock onto her gaze. “I think I’d rather spend the night in the ER than go out on another date with Louise.”

She cracks a smile. “Well, that’s kind of mean.”

“Not as mean as laughing when your date falls, sprains her ankle, and drenches herself in hot chocolate.”

Amy grimaces. “You might be right about that.”

“I know I am.” I lead her out and toward her apartment, waiting as she punches in the code.

And then I follow her in.

She eyes me as she flips on the light, revealing her tiny studio apartment. “It’s not much, I know.”

“It’s in an expensive part of town,” I say, smiling at her. “Nothing wrong with it, either.”

“Thanks.”

“Let me help you with that.” I rush toward her as she starts to work her jacket off.

She laughs. “My arms aren’t broken, Parker.”

I glance down at her hot chocolate-stained sweater. “You might wanna change out of that.” And suddenly my mind is full of images that are completely inappropriate.Oof.

“Yeah, it’s ruined, I think,” she mutters, ripping it right up and over her head.

Holy...

I look away for a split second but then peek, halfway relieved and halfway disappointed she has on a tank top underneath.

But it’smuchtighter than her sweater, showing off her curves.

She gives me a funny look. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” I’m being weird. I clear my throat. “Can I help you at all?”

“Let me just grab some clothes and change.” Amy heads to her dresser and grabs a handful of clothes before disappearing into what I assume is the bathroom.

I take in the studio apartment with more curiosity now that the door is shut, and immediately my eyes fall on the pictures lining the shelf. Moseying over, I get a better look. A couple photos feature her with some blonde woman, who I’m going to assume is a friend. The other three are of her and her parents.

And man, they look...happy.

Swallowing hard, I feel a pang of jealousy in my chest. I don’t know why. I don’t care, but still... The genuine smiles are impossible to brush off.

No wonder she’s got such a big idea of love.

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