Can't Fix Cupid

“But last night—”

“Last night was a mistake,” he says, cutting me off. “I played along with it only because my marketing strategist insisted on it, and because my best friend is an instigating prick. That’s all. But this,” he says, motioning between the two of us. “The idea that you’re my actual matchmaker, that’s not going to continue, Miss Valentine.”

I feel like he just slapped me.

“Look, if this is because I got sick and—”

“It’s not about that.”

A defeated breath falls out of me. I don’t know what I did to piss him off so thoroughly. I thought we had a good thing going. I mean, we were just fricken bantering! But then he pulled a one-eighty, pulling his mask back into place, and now he has more walls up than a damn prison.

I tug at the hem of his shirt I’m wearing, feeling suddenly awkward. I don’t know how to turn this around.

I clear my throat. “Okay… Anyway, about last night, I wanted to apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says sharply.

Refusing to lower my mood to his level, I keep going. “It was really kind of you to take care of me like that, Warren.”

He tenses at the sound of his name on my lips and then straightens his jacket and buttons up the front. “Despite your previous opinions of me, Miss Valentine, I’m not a complete bastard. I wasn’t going to abandon you on the sidewalk while you were ill.”

“I know, I’m just saying—”

“No need, Miss Valentine,” he says, his tone distant.

I narrow my eyes. “Trix,” I correct him. “I think we moved past Miss Valentine as soon as you spoon fed me ice cream.”

His jaw ticks, and he looks away.

“Why are you so angry?” I ask, at a loss.

Instead of answering me, he starts walking away. “I have to go to work now. There’s a phone in my office. You can use it to call your nudist friends. Be sure to lock the door on your way out.”

Without another word, Warren stalks out, his steps heavy on the stairs, and then I hear the front door slam so hard that it rattles the windows.

I’m left gaping after him, my mind spinning. What the hell just happened?

Chapter 17

Warren

“Okay, what’s the deal?”

I look up from my computer and see Harvey strolling into my office, letting the door click closed behind him. After a cursory glance, I return to my work, choosing to pretend like he’s not there.

Undeterred, Harvey takes a seat on the other side of my desk, crossing his ankle over his knee. I feel his eyes on me, but I’m a goddamn champion when it comes to making people sweat. So instead of giving in to his stare, I continue to work in stoic silence.

But there’s a reason Harvey has been my friend since college. He’s the only person in the world willing to call me on my bullshit. Which is what he does now.

“You can drop the silent workaholic persona. I’m not buying it. Tell me what the fuck your problem has been for the past four days.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

Harvey snorts. “Please. You’ve had your panties in a twist since the night of that date. Are you pissed that I left with Blue?” he asks.

I finally raise my eyes to give him a bored look. “Why the hell would I care if you left with some chick to fuck her in the mud?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, asshole,” he says before leaning back and sighing. “Look, I know she was technically your date, but I knew you weren’t interested. But if I read things wrong somehow and—”