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

“That is awesomely psychotic,” Jack said with a laugh, puffing on his cigar and looking at the asshole Hallie used to love. “I think I really like you, Chuck.”

“You know that fucker had no idea what was wrong when it wouldn’t even turn over,” Chuck said, chuckling.

The conversation soon turned to Volvos. Chuck was clearly a car guy—and a Volvo hater—and saw something in Jack that made him think they were of a like mind. Jack just listened, enjoying the cigar and trying to imagine not finding Hallie to be enough. He couldn’t.

“Hey, jackasses.” She came out of nowhere in the darkness, just walking across the grass, and Jack found it a little hard to breathe. Hallie was still wearing the white dress, but her curls had come undone, leaving her hair a little wild and wavy, and she was no longer wearing any jewelry. Her smile was big and her eyes were twinkling and her high heels were dangling from her fingers.

“I’m telling, you scandalous piece of shit,” Chuck teased.

“Shhhh,” she said, glancing toward the rest of the groomsmen, who had now switched to playing cards. “I ran all the way around the building and had to climb that fence.”

Jack was looking at the fence she’d pointed to when she snatched the cigar from between his fingers and sat down on the ground between his and Chuck’s chairs. She looked up at him, her head leaning back in a way that exposed the entirety of her graceful throat, and she said, “You don’t mind, do you?”

He watched her take a puff and thought it was on-brand for Hal that she looked completely natural smoking a cigar.

“You know, you’re going to ruin the back of your dress, sitting on the cement like that,” Jack said.

“I already got chocolate all over the ruffle—see?” She moved the ruffle, which appeared to be affixed in place with silver duct tape, and he saw that its underside was splattered with a big, brown stain.

“Please explain the duct tape.”

“The bartender helped me. Bartenders always have a handy tool kit,” she said.

“And the chocolate?”

“I had DoorDash bring me a Frappuccino and then I dropped it on the patio.”

Chuck snorted. “You’ve been fucking busy since we saw you an hour ago.”

“Yeah, I have,” she said. “Also, Jamie told me that if I ever made it to the other side, I was supposed to tell you that her phone is dead, she faked sick, and now she’s up in the room.”

“Sweet.” Chuck stood and, without another word, just left.

“Listen, Jack,” Hallie said, looking at his collar instead of his face. She seemed casual, but something weird was going on with her. “My mother is going to be looking for me very soon, and I’m not going back—they can’t make me. I think I’m going to just call it a night and go up to the room.”

“Hal.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me.”

Her green eyes looked bright as she looked at him and said, “What?”

“Are we cool? You okay after the whole . . . closet thing?” He noticed the goose bumps on her arms and instinctively began taking off his jacket.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a grin as he draped it over her shoulders. She stood and pulled it tighter against her, looking even tinier as she burrowed into the jacket. “I’m fine, and thank you for the jacket, you chivalrous delight.”

He set down his glass and stood. “Let’s go.”

Her eyebrows dipped down. “You don’t have to leave the party just because I am.”

He shrugged, wanting nothing more than to be alone with her in their only-one-bed room, even if sex was off the table. “I want to.”

Thankfully, no one noticed as they left the patio and went back into the hotel. He wanted Hallie all to himself.





Chapter

TWENTY-TWO


    Hallie


Hallie rambled about the patio party as they walked to the room, her heart pounding in her chest as she thought through her plan. She was scared to say anything for fear of messing up their friendship, but she was equally scared of letting the perfect weekend end without ever daring to make something happen.

Without possibly taking a step forward.

“And they actually took the microphone away from you?” Jack laughed as they stepped into the elevator. “What a bunch of buzzkills.”

“Okay, well, I was actually being really obnoxious.”

“You? Impossible.”

She loved the way his eyes got crinkly around the edges when he was teasing her. She hit the button for their floor and said, “I discovered that falsetto made the mic squeal, so I might’ve selected a Bee Gees song and hit it hard.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “Why would they ever let you sing karaoke?”

“Why wouldn’t they? I have the voice of an angel.”

They got off on their floor and walked down the hallway. Hallie kept trying to get herself to just say it, to calmly tell him how she felt and what she wanted, but she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words.

They were stuck in her throat, so she rambled incessantly about nothing.

Jack opened the door and they went into the room, and as Hallie looked at that one very big bed, the words wouldn’t come out.

Say it, Hal.

Say it, you pussy.

Sayyyyy. Itttttt.

She spun around and looked up at his handsome face. “Um, Jack?”

He started loosening his tie, and she felt light-headed. “Yeah?”

“I think, um, well, I was thinking. That.”

He raised one eyebrow. “That . . . ?”

“That since we’re both staying in this room, uh, together, maybe we should, um. Maybe we should . . .”

He whipped off the tie and dropped it by his suitcase, his gaze intense. “Should what?”

She swallowed. “We should, um, take turns using the bathroom.”

His eyes narrowed as he unbuttoned his top button. “As opposed to . . . using it at the same time . . . ?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I just have to wash my face. Can I have the bathroom first?” she asked.

He gave her a weird look. “Of course.”

“Awesome.” Hallie went over to her suitcase and pulled out the super-safe, not-sexy pajamas she’d decided to bring on the trip: her oversized, knee-length flannel nightshirt and a pair of tall, fuzzy socks. She walked past him and went into the bathroom, and it wasn’t until the door was closed and locked that she silent-screamed and wanted to smack herself in the face.

We’re adults, Jack, and we’ve slept together before. Since we don’t have emotional baggage, why not sleep together again? We obviously have sexual chemistry, so I say we do whatever feels right this weekend and then leave it all in Vail. As long as we don’t feel anything other than sexual attraction, it won’t be a problem, right?

She felt a hell of a lot more than that, but no way was she going to put it out there. No, her plan was to throw every single thing into the fake relationship this weekend, and maybe by the time they returned home, they would share their mutual feelings for each other.

Crazier things had happened, right?

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