Page 26 of Failure to Match

“The evaluation doesn’t start until tomorrow, not to mention our interactions aren’t supposed to be scored.”

Wrong. “We started the second I stepped into your house, Mr. Sinclair, and our interactions absolutelydocount.”

His brows pushed together. “The package specifically stated?—”

I waved a hand dismissively around his chest, just as I’d seen Minerva do. The skin under his left eye feathered.

“Min encouraged me to take creative control of the process,” I informed him, trying my best to suppress the bubbly glee rolling up my chest. This was even more fun than when I’d told Vivian.

“Min?”

Oh. Right. Yes.

“She insisted,” I explained, grinning up at him. “She’s really nice, fantastic taste in bakeries. We’ve bonded quite a bit over the last two weeks.”

A flash of surprise cut through his expression. “You’ve been spending time with her?”

“Yes. We’ve met up a bunch. Oh, and I’m supposed to be reporting my findings and opinions directly to her over the next month. Not sure if her team has communicated that with yours yet.”

There was a solid chance he was about to have a hernia.

“She’s mostly worried about you not trying,” I went on. “But I feel like you already know that.”

His jaw worked as his teeth ground together. “And you’ll be the judge of that, then? Deciding whether or not you believe I’m putting in the effort?”

“Precisely.” And he was doing a horrible job so far.

Jackson closed his eyes for a single moment, rubbing a knuckle against the bridge of his nose. Then, without a word, he turned and began walking away again.

He wasn’t even willing topretendto try.

How predictable.

7

If I hada sleep paralysis demon, it would have Jackson Sinclair’s eyes.

That was the loudest thought running through my head as he glared at me from across the living room, jaw tense like he was biting back how badly he wanted to tell me to get the fuck out of his house.

Physical demeanor in professional settings: abysmal.

“That’s about everything you should expect from week one,” I continue, undeterred. It wasn’t like any of this was surprising. I’d had rock-bottom expectations for him, and he was simply delivering. “I’ll be acting as your shadow, collecting data that will be used to find someone whose daily habits and lifestyle are compatible with yours. I suggest going about your day exactly as you normally would, pretending like I’m not there.”

The more I talked, the more rigid and resentful Jackson’s demeanor became. Until there were two separate veins popping out of his forehead and multiple muscles worming through his jaw.

It was a delightful sight to behold. Truly.

I hadn’t felt this much job satisfaction and accomplishment in months—eight and a half of them, to be exact.

“That will take us to week two.” My tone was unabashedly reflective of the fluffy delight his rage evoked in me, and we both knew it. “Which will be when we start your coaching.”

His fists were white. “I don’t need coaching.”

“Oh, you definitely need coaching,” I said without hesitation. “I can say with absolute confidence that if anyone needs a dating coach, Mr. Sinclair, it’s you. That’s my professional opinion, speaking from direct personal experience.”

His glare was seething, but I didn’t care.

He’d asked me if I was hard of hearingandgotten my name wrong in the same sentence, for fuck’s sake. And the date had only gotten worse from there. I mean, I was pretty certain he’d been trying to sabotage it, but still. As the wise old karmic saying went: fuck around and find out.

---