Bet Me: A Romantic Comedy Standalone by Lila Monroe

Author:Lila Monroe [Monroe, Lila]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Lila Monroe Books
Published: 2017-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

Once I’m back out on the street, I toss the flowers in the nearest trashcan. I know Dylan’s an ass, and I should have seen through him from the start, but I was so dazzled by all his talk about finding something real I didn’t stop to ask myself why he was coming on so strong.

Sure, romantic gestures and pretty flowers are nice, but they’re not the point of all of this. It’s no good going on amazing dates if the guy at the other side of the table STILL only wants one thing. Fuck, it looks like this strike is having the exact opposite effect of the one I wanted: instead of clearing the decks of guys just looking to get laid, I’m attracting the ones who see me as some kind of conquest now.

Like Jake?

I try not to think about him, but boy, is it hard. Somehow all our animosity is producing the craziest sexual tension. The more cocky and irritating he gets, the more I want him back down between my thighs, finishing what he started on New Year’s Eve. Because as far as I can recall, that shit was amazing . . .

. . . Up until the minute he passed out.

Right. That.

I sigh and shake it off. It’s a gorgeous night, the warm wind blowing gently through the streets, with people out enjoying drinks and dinner. I realize I’m just a few blocks from my favorite classic movie theater, so instead of writing off the night entirely, I stroll over to it to see if there’s anything that can distract me from the mess of my love life. My heart leaps in my chest when I see a Die Hard marathon advertised on the marquee! I mean, there’s really nothing that two hours immersed in intense action scenes with a shirtless, sweaty Bruce Willis can’t cure, as far as I’m concerned. What I need is a big tub of popcorn and an even bigger dose of fantasy to take me out of this mood.

I walk determinedly into the brightly lit lobby, the delicious buttery scent of popcorn filling my nose, and I buy a ticket, walking toward the concession stand. Usually I bring brownies for Brad, the projectionist, but I’m empty-handed tonight, so I get in line for snacks.

There’s a guy in a suit in front of me, buying a tub of popcorn bigger than my skull, and there’s something about the way he stands that looks so familiar . . . When he turns around, I find myself looking into the eyes of Jake Weston, who, against all odds, is smiling like he’s actually glad to see me.

Smiling, and smoking hot, and bearing popcorn.

Oh. Fuck.

Forget Bruce Willis—I may just get a lot more action tonight then I bargained for.

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