Page 16 of Falling for the Billionaire Best Man

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t try to butter me up. And there’s nothing wrong with running on its own. It’s just when people do it recklessly⁠—”

“Recklessly?!” he interrupted. “Come on. I was just jogging in the park.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it.” She shrugged. “Well, I should get going.”

She turned to leave, and before I could stop myself, I called out to her. “Dorie.”

She paused, glancing back at me. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to get a drink?”

The words surprised me as much as they surprised her. Her eyes widened, and she looked down at herself, suddenly self-conscious in her yoga clothes. “I, uh… I have an early start tomorrow. Saturdays are the busiest days at the bakery.”

Did she just turn me down?

“I see.”

“I’ll see you around,” she said and turned on her heel.

I frowned, watching as she walked away. No one had ever turned me down before.

I stood there for a moment, feeling oddly off-balance. What was happening? This felt weird.

I shook my head and started walking.

“Damn, K, you’re losing your touch.”

I started a slow jog and then increased my speed. The rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement was steady, but my thoughts were anything but. Dorie’s rejection—if you could even call it that—lingered in my mind like a bad aftertaste. I wasn’t used to this. I wasn’t used to feeling unsure.

Was it the wedding? The sudden shift in life? Or was it just her?

I pushed harder, my lungs burning as I sprinted down the empty street. It was fully dark now. Streetlights guided the way, casting shadows across the pavement. I didn’t stop until I was back at the house, sweat dripping down my face and my shirt clinging to my chest.

I walked into the bathroom on the bottom floor and washed my face. I needed a shower, but first, I was going to have that drink. Even if it was alone. I grabbed an IPA from the fridge and took a long swig.

The house felt even bigger and emptier. I took another long drink and started upstairs. What a wild Friday night. This was a first for me. All because that woman shot me down. I didn’t know why I even asked her out for a drink. I couldn’t stand her and she hated me.

I reached the landing at the top of the stairs and paused, leaning against the railing. I took another sip of the beer, the bitterness sharp on my tongue, and let out a long breath.

I didn’t hate her. That was the problem, wasn’t it? If I hated her, this wouldn’t feel so complicated. The way she looked at me like she could see straight through all my bullshit—that got under my skin. And for some reason, I couldn’t shake it.

Dorie Blake was going to be the death of me.