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I push open the door behind her and slide my other hand to the front of her hip. Her teeth graze my bottom lip and before I can think better of it, I shove her into the dark alley.
She stumbles over a damaged patch of concrete, and I feel every bit the jerk I am.
Shock, confusion, and hurt all shudder over her features, but the last thing I hear before the door closes between us is, “You’re not my date, are you?”
Chapter 3
Amelia
What. Just. Happened?
I’m no stranger to rejection, but usually it’s not so physical. I’ve never been pushed out of a freaking emergency exit!
Running through my veins is a confusing mixture of intense desire and unbridled contempt. Both aimed at the same person.
If he wasn’t a detective, I’d kill him. Just for the kiss. Because it was entirely inappropriate, even though I might have indulged, a tad. But that was the kiss I’ve been waiting my whole life for, and he threw me away like it meant nothing.
I’m disgusted with myself. But mostly him.
Screw that. I will kill him. How dare he push an innocent woman into an alley. There could be criminals out here.
A tiny part of my brain tries to tell me that there was most likely a criminal in there and he was getting me out of harm's way. But I tell that little thought to suck it. Because I’m going back in there, bad guys or not, and he’s going to get an earful. And then I might kiss him again, out of spite.
I reach for the door, but it’s locked.
Of course it is. Because people aren’t supposed to throw their dates out into the alley, that’s why!
I freeze. But…he wasn’t my date, was he? I don’t even know who he was. Because what kind of cop would set up a date while they were on a sting? The answer is none.
I sat down with the wrong Chad.
I inhale, regaining the shred of confidence I still possess. It may be coming straight from my baby toe because that’s about as big as I feel.
“Are you okay?”
I jump at the voice of our waitress. A pretty but intimidating brunette who is nearly a foot taller than me. She has the kind of intensely dark eyes and lashes and perfectly bronzed skin that means she probably gets hit on all the time and has never in her life been thrown out of a back door.
“Oh, yeah.” I straighten my shoulders like this is basic first-date territory. “Weird date mishap.”
“I saw, you poor girl. What a jerk.” She puts an arm around my shoulders, enveloping me with compassion and the slightest whiff of B.O. I assume she’s going in for a side hug, which I could use, and go to wrap an arm around her but instead, she nudges me forward out of the alley.
“Oh, he wasn’t my date.” I try to pull away, but this waitress must work out because she keeps pushing me toward the parking garage with the arms of Thor. “I need to go back and find the right one.”
“What you need is some chocolate.”
She makes a point. I slip off the curb, glancing both ways to ensure a car isn’t coming at us as she propels me across the street.
“But what about—”
“I’ll tell that guy off, don’t worry. It’s one of my favorite parts of this job.” Her smile looks genuine.
“Can you spit in his food too?”
“And his drink.”
“Perfect.” As far as revenge goes, that will have to do for tonight. Justin used to call me reckless, and until this moment, I’ve never truly believed him.
I went on a date with the wrong man, then proceeded to kiss him with an impulsive passion I’ve never known before.