Free If I Break THE COMPLETE SERIES Bundle by Portia Moore

angrily and walks out, cursing Michael under his breath.
    “I’m really sorry again. He can be a douche sometimes,” I tell him sincerely.
    “Don’t apologize. You aren’t the one who punched me in the eye,” he says.
    “I know. But still…” I feel bad about the entire situation.
    “So is it always this hard to ask you on a date?” He laughs slightly.
    “Y-you’re asking me on a date?” I chuckle.
    “Yeah, I was about to when that guy—who I take it is your ex-boyfriend?—attacked me.”
    I stuff my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. This has been a busy week; two  sober  guys asked me out in the same week.
    “I, well…” I’m thinking hard about it. This could be fun. Another date wouldn’t hurt. I mean, this guy did just get punched in the face for me. I can’t turn him down after that. And Cal hasn’t called, so… “I would love to.”
    “Well, maybe this day won’t turn out so bad after all.” He smiles broadly.
    “I can’t Friday night, but how about Thursday?” I ask.
    “My eye should be down by then. Hopefully.” He laughs.
    “That’s great. I’m sure it will,” I agree. Well, I’m sure the swelling will be down, at least. Whether his normal color will be back, I doubt it, based on the way it looks now. I’m still shocked Michael hit him. He’s studying to be a police officer; you’d think he would know better.
    “Great!” he says with enthusiasm.

    It’s eleven o’clock. I can’t sleep. That’s what working the night shift will do to you on your days off. I had planned on catching up on my sleep, but I’m utterly restless. Switching on the lamp beside my bed, I pull out the sketchpad I keep under my bed and start to draw. The phone rings suddenly, startling me.
    “Hello?” I answer hesitantly.
    “Hey, gorgeous.” The voice is a familiar one and it immediately awakens the butterflies in my stomach.
    “I guess that would be me,” I say, a grin spreading across my face.
    “I’m not calling too late, am I?”
    “No, it’s fine. I’m a bit of a night owl myself,” I tell him.
    “Note this: me working on the asking thing.” He chuckles.
    I think back to his earlier promise and grin. “Look at you, sir. I am so very proud of you,” I tell him playfully.
    “Well, you’ll have to show me how much,” he flirts back. I bite my lip at the thought. “I was going to text you. I didn’t know if you’d be at the club or not.”
    “No, today’s my night off. But yesterday I was. I restocked the bar, had to help clean the stock room… watched an innocent man get punched in the face over the stunt you pulled with my cell phone the other night.” I chuckle.
    “Really? This is a first, me causing a fight I didn’t get to be in. Well, maybe next time.” He laughs. “And you said I was trouble. It seems trouble follows you, Ms. Brooks.”
    “Ha-ha,” I say dryly.
    “Listen, if you’re not too busy breaking up fights around Chicago, I wanted to ask if you were going to the AIC opening Saturday?”
    It takes me a few seconds to register he’s talking about the Chicago Museum’s eighieth anniversary charity ball. I wish I were, but unfortunately, it’s an exclusive, invitation-only event. It’s the only thing my classmates have been talking about the past month. They’re furious that Crestfield Industries, one of the largest companies founded in Chicago, weaseled their way into sponsoring the event and privatized the entire affair.
    “I wish. It’s invitation-only.” Too bad I’m not rich or famous, since those were the people on the invite list.
    “Well, I guess you’re going to have to come with me.” He sighs.
    “Wait. Are you telling me you have an invitation?” I ask, my voice rising with excitement. I hear him laughing. “How did you get that? You’re not screwing with me, are you, Cal?” I don’t want to sound like an art geek, but attending would be an absolute dream come true.
    “We’re on the phone, you know—what would be