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The Love Wager (Mr. Wrong Number, #2)(40)

Author:Lynn Painter

As Jack walked to his car, he cursed his sister and her stupid ideas, because there was no way his visit to the shelter did a damn thing to derail Alex’s progress with Hallie, or to put Jack in some better position—not that he necessarily wanted to be in a better position.

But a few days later, when he wanted Hal to meet him at Taco Hut but she couldn’t because she and Alex had fancy dinner reservations, he lost his damn mind. He heard Olivia’s voice in his head, dialed the fancy seafood bistro, and said, “I need to cancel a dinner reservation.”

Chapter

THIRTEEN

Hallie

Hallie closed her apartment door and hit the dead bolt. As she kicked off her shoes and dropped her jacket on the floor, she realized she was still smiling. Alex had left her at the door five minutes before, yet the smile was still on her face.

She didn’t see Tigger—he’d been with her for a week now, and every time she came home he was asleep on her pillow—but that was easy to fix. She walked over to the kitchen, opened the utensil drawer, and took out the can opener. From the bedroom she heard the telltale mrrreow before heavy paws landed on the wood floor and he hightailed it in her direction.

Yes, Tigger’s superpower was that he could literally hear the clicking sound of the can opener from anywhere on the planet.

“Hello, Tiggy,” she said as she crouched down and petted his fuzzy orange head. She still couldn’t believe she had a cat, but she was grateful to Ruthie for the whole weird moving-out debacle, because she was head over heels obsessed with Tigger. “Let’s get you some tuna.”

She opened the can and poured the contents into a saucer. Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she turned to toss the container. She expected it to be Alex, but it was Jack—who’d been weirdly quiet over the past few days. But perhaps he was as smitten with his PhD girl as she was with Alex and didn’t have time to text.

Jack: How was dinner?

She took the phone into the bedroom and plopped down on her bed. OK, so listen to this. I told you Alex made reservations at the Aquarium, right?

Jack: Yep—so fancy.

Hallie: Well, we got there, and there was no reservation and no tables. Alex’s face got all red and he looked pissed.

Jack: Did Jekyll become Hyde over expensive fish?

Hallie: No, Jekyll became fucking Romeo.

Jack: He poisoned you?

Hallie: He went outside and made a phone call, and then asked if I minded going on a walk for a bit.

Jack: So he called his mom to talk him off the rage ledge.

Hallie: Shut up and wait for it. We took a walk, and then after like thirty minutes he led me to an igloo in the park. We went inside and there was heat, twinkling lights, and a picnic blanket on the ground with to-go burgers and fries.

Jack: Shut the fuck up.

Hallie laughed and still couldn’t believe it. Right?!

Her phone started ringing as she looked at it, and the second she raised it to her ear she heard Jack say, “Are you telling me that when your reservation fell through, the blond clown arranged a burger picnic in the park?”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you!” Hallie flopped back on her bed and closed her eyes. “Can you believe how charming that is?”

He made a noise that sounded like a snort. “It sounds to me like the guy knew he couldn’t get a table and made up the whole reservation story just so he could look charming.”

Hallie opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “That is ridiculous.”

“And you’re home at ten, TB, so obviously there isn’t a lot of sexual chemistry there.”

“I know you want that stupid World Series ball, but don’t ruin this for me.” Things with Alex were amazing and perfect so far and were exactly what she’d been looking for. But Jack was a tiny bit right on that front. On paper, Alex was perfect. But she’d yet to feel any sort of burn for him.

She liked it when he kissed her—he didn’t cram his tongue down her throat or lick her face off—but it definitely didn’t have the these-clothes-must-come-off vibe she’d had with Jack during that drunken elevator ride.

But that would come.

And probably wasn’t all that important to the overall relationship, anyway.

“Sorry, sorry.” She heard him clear his throat before he said, “How’s Tig?”

Hallie rolled over onto her side and grinned. “Everything I could ever want in a bestie.”

His chuckle was deep and raspy, like he was tired. “I should bring him some catnip. I can’t give it to Meowgi anymore because he gets too hyper.”

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