Page 87 of The Valentine's Bet

“Dalton doesn’t mind our friendship,” she says, eyeing me. “I mean, at first he seemed a little confused, but then once he understood that we’rejustfriends, it didn’t bother him.”

“Even though we met at a speed-dating event?”

Her facial expression shifts.

He doesn’t know.

“Amy ... you can’t lie to him about how we met.”

“I didn’t lie to him,” she says earnestly. “I just didn’t tellhimwherewe met. I didn’t want him thinking anything haseverhappened between us.”

But it has.

I kissed her.

And I wouldn’t blame Dalton fornotbeing okay with that.

“It could come across like we’re more than friends...” she continues at my silence.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But if he ever brings it up, you should probably tell him the truth. You don’t want to start off your relationship with lies.”

“I’ll tell him if he asks.”

“Good,” I say, going back to peeling potatoes. “Does he have any lady friends? Maybe it doesn’t bother him because he’s got close girlfriends of his own.”

“Well, he’s kind of close with the veterinarian he works for at the clinic. They’ve known each other for a really long time.”

“Ah, I see.” I don’t know Dalton enough to throw out any kind of meaningful comment. From what I can tell, he seems pretty solid.

“Yeah, in fact, we’re going on a double date with her.”

“That’s fun,” I say, trying to sound more enthused than I feel.

“With you.”

“What?” I nearly peel the skin right off my finger. “What do you mean, with me?”

“On our first date, he mentioned setting you up. He asked if we’d want to go on a double date tomorrow night, and I said yes, since you told me earlier your schedule was clear.” Her eyes widen as she spots my bleeding finger. “Are you okay?” she asks as she grabs a paper towel and runs it under water.

I take the damp towel and step away when she tries to doctor my finger for me. “I don’t want to go on a date, Amy.”

“Youalwayssay that.” She huffs. “Just go out with us. It’ll be fun.”

“I...” My finger hurts like heck as the blood soaks through the thin paper towel. “You know me well enough to know that it never works out for me, either.”

“That’s only because you don’tletit work.”

“Not true.” My words are empty.

“Will you let me help you? Please?” Amy steps toward me, her hands outstretched. “You’re bleeding all over the place.”

I shake my head, suddenly feeling like a little kid in the presence of a worried mother. “No, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

“No one said that you couldn’t, Parker,” she snaps, grabbing for me before I can step away. The warmth of her touch on my wrist stops me in my tracks. I catch my breath as her hair brushes my nose and shut my eyes as her gentle touch skates across my hand.

“Am I going to lose my finger, doc?” I choke out, but the joke doesn’t really land.

“I think it looks worse than it actually is.” Her voice is soft as she pulls the paper towel away, dabbing at the wound.

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