At least, I sure hoped that would be the outcome.
“It’s a date!” I added.
He gave me an odd look.
“What?” I said.
“What do I get if I beat you?” he asked.
“I assumed it would be the same as the last bet. Your ego would get the satisfaction of knowing you beat me.”
He shook his head. “That’s not enough this time.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Name your price.”
“If I win, I want to know what’s the deal with all the Ryan Scotts in your life and why you appear to have a date lined up every day of the week.”
I swallowed hard.
It was the last thing I expected to hear coming out of his mouth. It shouldn’t have been a surprise since all my dates except the one with Radio Ryan were at his coffee shop.
What was I going to do now?
I suspected there was only one thing I could do, considering my need to know his secret was stronger than the need to hide mine.
I held out my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Scotty shook my hand and grinned. “Prepare to lose.”
I snorted. “Prepare to eat those words.”
ChapterTen
Scotty
While I waited for Dean to call, I snacked on a protein bar in my kitchen. I sent him several text messages over the last fifteen minutes, but for some reason, he was taking his sweet time to get back to me. I don’t know why I felt the need to talk to him before I played tennis with Amber, but I did. Probably because I was nervous, if I were being honest.
Finally, the phone rang.
I lunged for it on the kitchen counter and answered. “Where have you been?”
“In the bathroom,” Dean said. “Which is now the no-phone zone since I fell off the toilet while watching a rerun ofMurder She Wrote.”
“Save the details, please. Did you at least read my texts?”
“All one thousand of them,” Dean said. “Why are you acting like a prepubescent schoolboy? You’re scaring me with those messages.”
“Hello? It’s Amber we’re talking about here.”
“I get that, but you’re going to have some sweaty one-on-one time with your dream girl. That’s what you wanted. It’s not complicated, but you act like this is Apollo Thirteen.”
“I don’t know what’s happening to me, man,” I said.
“Amber happened. She appeared in your life and she—”
“Wrecked me for all other women,” I said. “She’s a twenty on a scale from one to ten.”
“You clearly don’t understand how scales work. Love is blurring your intellect.”