Page 6 of Summoning Mr. Wrong (Hotter than Hell #1)

The next evening found me standing outside Luciana’s in my blue button-down (which did bring out my eyes, annoyingly), freshly showered and more nervous than I’d been for any date in recent memory.

“You look acceptable,” Deus had declared before I left the apartment. “Remember to ask questions about him, maintain eye contact, and don’t talk about your student loans until at least the third date.”

“I know how to date,” I’d grumbled.

“Evidence suggests otherwise.” He’d straightened my collar with surprisingly gentle hands. “Now go get ‘em, tiger.”

Felipe turned out to be even more attractive in person than in his photos. Tall, with perfect hair, a dazzling smile, and the confident air of someone who’d never had to worry about making rent. He stood up when I approached the table, which was both charming and intimidating.

“Julian, right? You look great. That shirt really brings out your eyes.”

Damn it, Deus was right.

The date started well enough. Felipe was polite, asked appropriate questions, and didn’t once mention an ex. I began to relax, thinking maybe Deus’s interference had been a good thing after all.

Then, halfway through our appetizers, Felipe’s phone lit up on the table. He glanced at it, frowned slightly, then turned it face down.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, just work.” He smiled, but it seemed forced. “So, you were saying about your job?”

His phone buzzed again. And again. By the time our main courses arrived, he was checking it every few minutes, his responses to my conversation attempts growing increasingly distracted.

“I’m really sorry,” he said finally, “but I need to take this. Hospital emergency. Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

Felipe stepped outside, leaving me alone with my overpriced pasta. Five minutes passed. Then ten. When fifteen minutes had gone by, I asked the waiter for the check, my heart sinking.

The waiter looked confused. “Your bill has already been settled, sir. Your friend took care of it before he left.”

“He left?” I repeated, my stomach dropping.

“Yes, about ten minutes ago. He asked me to tell you he was called to the hospital for an emergency.” The waiter looked uncomfortable. “He did leave a generous tip.”

Well, at least there’s that.

I trudged home, loosening my tie and feeling like an idiot. Another dating disaster to add to my collection. At this rate, I’d die alone in my apartment, found weeks later half-eaten by whatever pets I inevitably accumulate to fill the void of human connection.

When I opened my apartment door, I found Deus lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine. He looked up, took one look at my face, and sighed.

“That bad, huh?”

“He ditched me,” I said, throwing my keys onto the counter with more force than necessary. “Some emergency at the hospital.”

Deus’s expression darkened. “He’s not even a real doctor. He’s a chiropractor with a God complex.”

I stopped in the process of unknotting my tie. “How do you know that?”

“I may have done some background research.” Deus set down his magazine. “His Instagram is full of anti-vax propaganda and pictures of his ‘wellness retreats’ in Costa Rica.”

“Why would you set me up with someone like that?” I demanded, frustration boiling over.

Deus had the grace to look slightly abashed. “I didn’t know at first. I just saw ‘doctor’ and thought, stability, good income, probably has decent health insurance. The red flags didn’t show up until after you left.”

“So what, you texted him during our date to sabotage it?” I was putting the pieces together now.

“I may have sent a few messages from a number he’d recognize as his ex.” Deus inspected his nails casually. “Who may or may not be in Costa Rica with his best friend.”

I stared at him. “You… manufactured a crisis to test him?”

“And he failed spectacularly.” Deus stood up, approaching me with a predatory grace that made my pulse quicken. “He wasn’t good enough for you.”

“That wasn’t your call to make,” I said, but my anger was already fading into something more complicated. “Why do you care who I date?”

Deus stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel the unnatural heat radiating from his body. “Maybe it’s related to my favor.”

“Which you still won’t explain,” I pointed out.

“Because I’m still figuring it out myself.” His eyes dropped to my mouth for a brief, heart-stopping moment. “But I’m getting closer.”

We stood there, tension crackling between us like static electricity. I was acutely aware of how close he was, how easy it would be to close that small distance.

“I’m going to change,” I said abruptly, stepping back. “These clothes are too fancy to mope around in.”

Deus’s mouth quirked up at one corner. “Need help with those buttons?”

“I think I can manage,” I replied, my voice embarrassingly unsteady.