Page 127 of The Bet
Chapter 36
It had been her outfit that had done it. Seeing her in those figure-hugging second skin yoga clothes had pushed him over the edge.
And it had been the right thing, to leave. This was Izzy, after all, and he couldn’t do with her what he would usually have done with other girls by now. It didn’t seem right.
He’dtriedto tell her. At least, he’d thought about telling her, maybe not about the bet straight away. He’d have to lead into that, test the waters gently, but at least about the bar charts.
But with her dressed like that, it had been impossible. Testosterone didn’t allow him to think clearly.
What was he supposed to do?
But she wasn’t someone he could fuck and discard. She had more depth than the Giseles and Petras of his world. And he liked her. He liked her a lot.
But there was that fucking, stupid bet standing in the way.
Screw it.
And screw Luke, too.
Who the hell was he kidding?
He wanted Izzy. He wanted her more than he had remembered wanting anyone. Hell, if she’d been anyone else, there would have been no hesitation.
He had forced himself to leave, otherwise, a few more kisses like that, and he wouldn’t have been able to tear himself away. Stepping out into the night air, he took a few long breaths, then looked around, as the sound of sirens in the distance broke the silence. Only when he got near to his car did he notice.
“Fuck.” He stared at
“Fuck.” This time louder. His tires had been slashed. All of them.
All.
Of.
Them. There had been no break-in, no wonder the alarm hadn’t gone off. Just some petty, jealous, mindless thugs slashing all his tires before disappearing.
His $200K car, trashed.
Fuck.
He tapped his phone but it wasn’t working either. Looked like the battery had died completely.
“Fuck.” He kicked the lamppost, then wiped his hand all over his face.
Fuck.
He looked around into the murky darkness of the deserted street. Not a soul in sight. Enraged, and totally pissed off, he turned around and headed back to Izzy’s.
A moment later, he was knocking on her door again, and, not wanting to frighten her, rapped his knuckles gently. “Izzy?” he tried to raise his voice, without shouting. He knocked again. “Izzy?”
“Xavier?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
She opened the door, quickly and stared back. “You changed your mind?” she asked, provocatively.
“My car,” he said. “All the tires have been slashed.”
She looked horrified. No,” she gasped. “Your tires?”
