Page 58 of Miss Typed

There was nothing I craved more than a stiff drink before falling into bed. But first I needed to talk to Chloe. My last two text messages to her had gone unanswered. Matter of fact, it didn’t look like she’d even read them.

Though my leg was increasingly protesting all the use I’d given it over the last week, including two long plane flights, I drove over to her apartment.

No Jeep. And no answer at the door. Shit. It was a week night with work tomorrow. Where was she? She wouldn’t have gone to the club, would she? Deciding I had no other choice than to wait her out, I sat in my parked car.

I waited and I thought. I hoped Miranda was on a plane home by now. I hoped Reid would get over Vanessa quickly. And I hoped Chloe would—what? Give me another chance?

It was a lot of hope for a guy who hadn’t thought of the word in many months.

Though I’d pretended Miranda’s words hadn’t affected me, they’d been a reminder that Chloe deserved better than a disabled veteran with a bad attitude and an unknown future. She’d want marriage, kids, and a house in the suburbs, complete with PTA meetings and soccer games on weekends. A man by her side who’d give it all to her.

I wasn’t that guy.

Finally, close to three o’clock in the morning, the familiar Jeep pulled in. Chloe got out of the passenger side with a McDonald’s bag—Jesus, what was this girl’s obsession with cheeseburgers?—while a redhead I assumed was her roommate got out of the driver’s side.

My anger spiked. Were they coming from the strip club?

I stepped out of my vehicle and watched her do a double take upon seeing me.

She walked over, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here, Aiden?”

My temper was hardly contained when I thought about her stripping again. Seeing her in the tiny T-shirt with “Boys Suck” printed on it and a short jean skirt was doing nothing to quell my temper. “Where are you coming from?”

She tilted her head to the side. “It’s not your business. Just like having your ex in your apartment tonight is none of mine.”

My jaw clenched. “You promised you wouldn’t go back to the club.”

“And unlike you, I keep my promises. I wasn’t there.”

I took her dig about dealing with the loan shark in stride. “Then where were you?” I knew I was being irrational. I had absolutely no right to know. No claim to care or to be jealous.

She sighed before reaching into her bag and getting a French fry to shove in her mouth. “If you must know, I was out for a ladies’ night with my roommate. We went to a club where I danced with so many guys I can’t remember them all.”

Jealousy had me clenching my fists. Just the thought of another man touching her almost sent me over the edge.

“Afterwards, we went to McDonald’s. Now my fries are getting cold, my feet are hurting in these heels, and my boss is being an asshole after blowing me off earlier in front of his ex-girlfriend who could still be his actual girlfriend for all I know.”

A grin tugged on my lips. “My ex is on a plane returning to the States.”

“I don’t care.” She lifted her chin as if trying to convince herself this was true.

“Liar. Just like I can pretend not to care you were dancing with other guys tonight when in fact it makes me ragey.” I hadn’t meant to admit my jealousy, but damn if I could help it.

We both didn’t speak for a full minute and simply stared one another down.

“Why don’t we go upstairs and discuss the reimbursement plan?” I suggested.

She shook her head. “How about we discuss it now?”

“In the parking lot?”

“Yes. You’re giving me whiplash. First you tell me I’m a lapse in judgment, and then you tell me you’re insanely jealous at the thought of me with anyone else. You say I deserve something better, but you’re fully capable of giving it to me if you chose to. If you don’t want to be with me, then we will hash out repayment terms in the parking lot or in the office tomorrow. But I’m not inviting you up to my room or going back to your place when it’ll only get my hopes up that you actually want to spend time with me.”

I found myself latching on to her words about giving her what she deserved. Could we date without me hurting her in the long run? Could we simply enjoy one another’s company sexually?

“Do you have extra cheeseburgers this time?”

Her eyes searched mine as if trying to figure out where my mind was. “I always have extra cheeseburgers, but I won’t be sharing my chocolate milkshake, and I certainly won’t be eating any of it in the parking lot.”