Page 77 of The Valentine's Bet

Ugh. He’s so handsome.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

And my mouth drops open. “What?”

“That’s what a guy should tell you,” he says quickly, his eyes dropping from mine. “Come on. Let’s go. I should be picking you up, but we’re starting in the same place, so that makes it a little difficult.”

“Why should you be picking me up? I thought men shouldn’t know where I live.” I try to steady my uneven heartbeat as he offers me his arm—right here in the hallway.

“Yeah, well, assuming you’ve thoroughly vetted the guy, he should at leastofferto pick you up. That’s what gentlemen do.”

I slide my hand around his forearm, trying to ignore the excitement that comes with such a simple move.

Why didn’t Brad make me feel any of these feelings?

“I booked us a table at a nice lunch place a few blocks away. I’m happy to drive us there unless you have your boot and would prefer to walk?”

I glance down. “I took the boot off when my apartment flooded and left it there.”

“Okay, we should probably drop by and get it. You’re not really supposed to be walking without it yet...”

“It’s okay. My ankle doesn’t hurtthatbadly,” I reason. “And trying to find parking in this city is a nightmare. We can just walk.”

In truth, my ankle isa little achy, but in the mess of my flooded apartment, I didn’t think about grabbing my boot—and I only had to wear it for a little longer, anyway.

It’ll be fine.

He sighs. “Fine. I’ll just carry you back if it starts hurting.”

“No, you won’t.” I burst into a giggle, shaking my head as he leads me to the front door. “Besides, that walking boot was doing more harm than good, I think.”

“Whatever you say, Amy.” Parker hands me my purse, which I set on the counter, and then opens the door. “After you.”

“Thanks,” I say, stepping out into the hallway.

“How did you sleep?”

“Um, good,” I answer as he taps the down button for the elevator. “How did yousleep?”

“Well”—he guides me into the elevator, never letting my arm go—“when I did sleep, I slept well. But I had to help a damsel in distress last night. Her apartment flooded. Poor thing.”

I can’t hold back a giggle, shaking my head at him. “How chivalrous.”

“Why, thank you, Amy.” He shoots me a wink that makes something flutter in my stomach. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

This version of Parker is both hilarious and charming—and I can’t stop smiling.

“Let’s discuss red flags,” Parker begins, setting his fork down.

I nod, having enjoyed my plate of Fettuccine Alfredo and our conversation at the small but chic Italian place. “Okay, let’s do it.”

He pulls out a stack of index cards and eyes me. “The goal is to spot the red flag—and then tell mewhyit’s a red flag.”

“I can do that.”

He chuckles. “Yeah ... we’ll see.” Parker takes a sip of his water and focuses on the first index card. “You’re on a date at an upscale restaurant that he chose. He works on Wall Street. At the end of the evening, he tells the waitress that you’re going to split the bill with him.”

“Uh...” My voice trails off as I replay what he just said. “Is the red flag the fact that he didn’t ask me where I wanted to eat?”

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