Page 37 of Failure to Match

“Well, that’s just nonsense, isn’t it?” Molly’s voice was pitched high, her shoulders bristling with indignation.

“You’re lovely company, dear. Any girl would be lucky to dine with you, and don’t you believe a word otherwise.”

Jackson preened—positivelypreened—at the compliment, smiling as he bent down and placed a quick kiss on her plump cheek. “Thank you, Mabel.”

Huh.

My brows arched as I watched the unexpected interaction. It was oddly sweet.

“I stand by it,” I said. “He got my name wrong on purpose and very rudely asked me if I was hard of hearing, all within the first five minutes of us meeting.”

“Jackson!” Molly whipped at his arm with her oven mitt.

“Did you really?” Mabel frowned up at him.

“Not at all how we taught you to behave, is it?”

“It is not. Why would you do such a thing?”

Howwetaught you, she’d said. Interesting, seeing as how neither of them had been mentioned in any of the familial background or childhood reports Jackson’s team had filled out. “They’ve been provided with more than enough data to find me a suitable match” my ass.

“How do you know it was on purpose?” he asked me.

“You’re many things, Mr. Sinclair, and transparent is definitely one of them.”

Two lines formed in the middle of his brows. “What?”

“Transparent,” I repeated slowly. “Adjective. Means easy to perceive, and in your case, predict.”

There was a long beat of silence as Jackson held my gaze. When it clicked, his shoulder snapped off the wall with force. “You think I’m… predictable.”

“Highly.”

“With the personality of a hardboiled egg.”

I lifted a shoulder. “I stand by that too.”

“Meaning what, exactly? You find me bland?”

“And generic. Not necessarily a bad thing, it just means I know exactly what I’m getting when you and I interact, just like I know exactly what I’m getting when I bite into a hard-boiled egg. Any hard-boiled egg. Because regardless of the brand, they all basically taste the same. Does that make sense?”

“Oh, dear.”

I wasn’t sure which sister said it because I refused to be the first to look away from the staring contest Jackson and I were locked in. His eyes were going to start narrowing in three, two… and there. See? Predictable.

“And is this all yourprofessionalopinion, Miss Paquin?”

Molly stepped in before I could answer. “All right, well, I think we should all go sit down. Then, after dinner, we’ll have a nice, calming cuppa. What do you say?”

“Yes, yes, let’s go, m’dears. The lamb is getting cold, and this conversation isn’t headed anywhere good, is it?”

“I don’t believe it is, no,” Molly agreed, taking Jackson by the arm. She tried pulling him, but he was rooted in the spot, his glare lethal and challenging.

“Like I said, she won’t be joining us,” he bit out.

I should have agreed to eat with them, technically. I needed to observe him in his natural habitat and take notes on his interactions, but I’d pissed him off enough that he wouldn’t be acting as he normally did anyway.

It would need to wait.

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