Page 59 of Hothead

So his drawers are full of bananas?

Oh God, she was dying. There was no way she’d be able to make it through another freaking mocktail with this lunatic.

“Listen”—Darren’s expression turned serious—“Belle.”

“Bella,” she corrected.

“Right. Bella. So, like, you seem like a cool chick and everything, but I’m gonna be honest and put it all out there. I don’t really see this working out.” After gesturing between them, he leaned further into the table. “I just don’t feel that kind of connection with you, that sexual energy, if you know what I mean.”

He’s rejecting me?!

This was a whole new low. Even for her. Banana man could do better.

She didn’t bother to reply. There were no words. Instead, she stood, threw down some money for the mocktails, and did what she should have done forty minutes ago, walked away.

This was all Luke’s fault. His call last night had messed with her head. Made it all fuzzy. And scared the hell out of her. Enough that she’d downloaded the first dating app she’d come across in an attempt to stop him from infiltrating her every thought. Of course it hadn’t worked. Even through the fruit chat she’d found herself thinking about him. And the sarcastic tongue-lashing he’d have no doubt administered.

As she climbed into her car, she realized then that there would be no shortcuts to healing. Getting over Luke was going to be slow and painful. And she needed to accept that.

Pulling out her phone, she scrolled to the dating app and pressedDelete.

Enough.

It was time to deal with it like an adult. She was going straight to the supermarket. She needed ice cream, some chips, and between ten and fifty chocolate bars.

Like an adult.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Luke was starting torethink his genius plan. Waiting outside a dodgy motel for hours wasn’t the best idea. He discovered that when he was approached by a woman, who, let’s just say, was renting her room by the hour. But he had no choice. This was where Bella was staying according to Cat, who, he’d since learned, had all their locations on her phone. Mr. Dragon Tattoo at the front desk had also confirmed it, and after some convincing, had directed him to room twelve, but there was no answer. So there he stood, waiting.

For how long though?

That was a good question. He’d been there three hours already and there was no sign of her. Where was she? For someone who claimed to have no friends and no life outside of Marco, she sure as hell was making the most of her Saturday night.

Then a godawful thought popped into his head: What if she was with another man?

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