Page 45 of Burn for You (Flirting with Forever 3)

“I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t like me. Or he’s doing things, treating me a certain way just to ensure he gets chosen for the job.”

Zoey studies my face, and I hate seeing the pity on hers. “Do you really think that’s true?”

“I don’t know.” And that’s the truth. I just don’t know. It’s hitting me way down deep that the man who I’ve been falling for, despite everything standing between us, is also the someone else I was coming to feel things for. And it’s like a double whammy, intensifying all the emotions I was having for the two of them separately. Now that I know it’s one man making me feel all of this, it’s overwhelming. I don’t know if my heart can downshift this fast. And I sure as hell don’t know what to do when I see Damon tomorrow night.

Chapter 24

Damon

I’d been a little nervous last night when Sherlock4Love hadn’t immediately replied back when I’d sent her the photo of my chest. A while later, though, I’d gotten a simple response, telling me she’d see me at Giarelli’s at seven. This place was a good choice. I haven’t been in here since they did some major remodeling, and the place looks great now—a perfect mix of trendy on the inside, while still being small-town Newberry on the outside. I’d planted myself at the bar about twenty minutes ago. I have no idea why I’d arrived so damn early, other than I’m excited and nervous as hell.

I glance at my phone to see it’s only 6:50 p.m. Ten minutes to go. Ten minutes until I meet Sherlock4Love. Ten minutes until my life changes forever. Or not. I groan inwardly. I’m being completely idiotic. I just hope I don’t get fucking stood up. That would be the worst, not knowing if she’s walked in, spotted me, and walked right back out.

The door opens, and I steel myself, wondering if it could be her. I take a sip of my b

eer, and glance casually over my shoulder. Because I’m all sorts of cool right now. On the outside, anyway.

To my amazement and incredulity, Piper walks in, making a beeline to the bar. She shrugs out of her coat and smiles as the bartender works his way over to her to take her order. Once she has her drink in hand—looks like a rum and Coke, maybe—she looks around, her gaze finally landing on me. She lifts a hand in greeting, and I return the gesture.

Of all the crazy nights for her to show up here … I shake my head, not believing my shitty luck. I grab my beer and prepare to go over there, knowing I can’t ignore her. But, fuck me, I can’t move. I don’t know how to handle this. How am I supposed to meet this other woman when the woman I’ve been kissing is right. The fuck. There. I can hardly wrap my head around it. Instead of getting up, I drain my beer and request another. How the hell am I going to handle Piper and Sherlock4Love potentially coming face-to-face?

With a fresh beer in hand, I decide I’ll just say a quick hello to be polite. She’s probably waiting on her girlfriends. Maybe they’ll show up and she won’t pay further attention to me. She runs with a whole damn posse of women these days. I’ve seen them laughing and joking over lunch down in the library on Friday afternoons.

Okay. I can do this. I just have to talk to her for a quick second, find Sherlock4Love, and somehow convince her that we can’t stay here. That’s going to be one hell of a tough thing to do. Finally, I stand and make my way over to the end of the bar.

My eyes take a visual tour of her as I approach. She looks fucking amazing tonight. Tight jeans, tall boots, and a pretty purple floral blouse. Her hair is twisted up in a knot on top of her head, and her lips are painted a slightly deeper pink than she usually wears. How the fuck I’ve noticed what color lipstick she wears I have no idea.

Only, I kind of do. I’ve been secretly memorizing her features for a while now, whether I want to admit it to her—or myself—or not.

When I reach her, an anxious smile plays on my lips. I really hope Piper is not still here when I meet Sherlock4Love for the first time. “Hey, Piper. Meeting your friends tonight?” I set my bottle down on the bar and prop my ass on the edge of the stool next to hers.

She glances at me, and takes in a deep breath through her nose. “Nope. A date.”

Well, fuck. I wasn’t expecting that. And from the tight feeling in my chest, I guess my ego wasn’t expecting that either. “So, who’s the unlucky guy?” I’m joking. Kind of. Any dude that shows up just needs to leave. I don’t know if I can bear to watch her with someone else.

Oh, man. I’m being a gigantic asshole. She is not mine.

She works her jaw back and forth as she looks beyond me around the room. “No one you’d know, I don’t think.”

I take a swallow of my beer, feeling a little … jealous. Fuck. Yep. This is jealousy rearing its ugly head. I nod and take a second swallow. And for some reason, I can’t stop the things coming from my mouth. I murmur, “I’m sure he’s a real winner, whoever he is.” I can’t help it. I don’t want her here seeing some other guy. Yes, I realize just how hypocritical that is, as I’m sitting here waiting for a date of my own. I hang my head for a second before I lift it, ready to apologize.

Her eyes flash fire at me. “I’d like to think he’s a good guy, but sometimes people prove you wrong after all.” She chugs her drink and sets the tumbler down. She slides off her stool and turns to collect her coat.

Dammit. I’m acting like a complete jerk, but I can’t seem to help myself. Apologize, Damon. Don’t be that guy.

Piper turns around, sliding her arms into her coat. She presses her lips together, shaking her head. “I think I’m going to leave, Damon. I didn’t think Professor Moriarty was such a dick.” Our gazes meet and hold. It could have been seconds or minutes that we stare at each other. She blinks a few times and sadness flickers through her eyes.

Her lip trembles, and that’s the last thing I see before she rushes toward the exit.

Confusion wars within me.

My brain doesn’t fully compute what she’s actually said for a full five seconds. She’s already at the door, pulling it open, when I hurl myself from the stool and jog halfway toward her. I jerk to a stop, my chest heaving. “Wait.” And then louder, “You’re Sherlock?”

I know heads around us are turning and people are watching, wondering what the hell is transpiring right before their eyes.

Piper pauses at the door to glance over her shoulder at me, and I question her without words if she’s who I think she is. The answer is right there, written all over her face. I inhale quickly, my eyes dropping to her pink, unsmiling lips. The knowledge that those dirty, sinful words Sherlock4Love sent me could have come from sweet Piper Mathison’s mouth does me in. The fuck?

It hits me hard that she knew I was Prof.M. when she walked in here tonight. She’s been fucking playing me this whole time. It guts me. I can’t fucking believe she did this. She could have done any number of things, but this was really low. She played with my heart—twice over. She made me fall for her and Sherlock4Love. All for a job. But I’m the dick?

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