Page 72 of The Valentine's Bet

His features contort in confusion. He lifts his hands. “Never mind. I obviously read this all wrong. I thought we were actually going somewhere.”

I gape at him. “Well, we could’ve had you not been so pushy.” I turn away from him to rip open the Uber door and slide inside.

Jerk.

Letting out a sigh, I watch as Brad storms away, shaking his head. I don’t even knowhowthat went as wrong as it did.

Was Ireallycoming across like I wanted to go home with him?

“Rough night?” the driver, a young woman around my age, asks, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Something like that,” I mutter, pulling my seatbelt across my body. I already know I have questions for Eliza—like how the heck do I make sure I’m not coming across like a one-night stand kind of girl?

“Men in the city can be real jerks.” She gives me a sympathetic smile and then turns up the radio, some kind of industrial rock filling the car. Frustration thrums through my body as I replay my night with Brad, racking my brains for any red flags I may have missed. His comment about checking out women while being in a relationship was a little off-putting, but was there anything else? Am I just blind?

Ugh. Maybe he’s just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

I lean back against the headrest for the rest of the drive, trying to focus on anything other than Brad. Parker immediately comes straight to mind, and I cringe. He’s going to laugh his face off when he finds out that this was another date wasted.

Maybe Iwillbe going to that jazz show, after all.

“Here,” the driver chimes as the car comes to a stop. “I hope you have a nice night.”

“Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile and climbing out into the night air. It’sreallyfreaking cold, and the moment the icy air hits my lungs, they burn. I trot into the building, slipping through the empty lobby in a rush. Fatigue hits me as I ride the elevator to my floor.

I can’t wait to go to bed.

My mind fills with images of my warm flannel sheets, fluffy duvet, and my body pillow tucked around me. It’s going to beheavenwhen I get there.

Maybe Idon’tlike late-night coffee dates...

I punch the code into my door, swing it open, and then gasp. “This cannot seriously be happening right now.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Parker

Why is my phone ringing right now?

I rub my eyes and try to get my wits about me, seeing the time reflected on the wall. It’s one o’clock in the morning. No one should be calling me.

But still.

It keeps ringing. And ringing.

Letting out a sigh, I reach for my phone and contemplate silencing it as soon as I seewhois calling. I don’t want to know how Amy’s date went. She’s probably calling to gloat about howgreatChad—er, Brad—was.

Or maybesomething is wrong.

I swipe to answer. “Hi.”

Oof. That sounds awkward.

“Hey, um.” She soundsveryfrazzled. “I have kind of an emergency...”

“What happened?” I shoot straight up in bed, suddenly very awake. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, though she doesn’t reallysoundokay. “My apartment flooded—and when I say flooded, I meanreallyflooded. Some sort of pipe burst in the floor above me ... I don’t know who else to call.”

---