Page 75 of Failure to Match

“That’s not my job.” It very much was my job.

Unable to take the hint, Jackson leaned even closer so he could peer over my shoulder. My allergies flared up in an instant—elevated heart rate and body temperature, pebbled skin, difficulty breathing, nausea.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he murmured approvingly, adding chills and shudders to my ever-growing list of symptoms. “You’re emailing your coworkers about how funny you think I am.”

I had been. Past tense.

My fingers weren’t moving anymore.

Honestly, if my future partner smelled half as good as Jackson Sinclair, I’d probably spend the majority of our relationship with my face stuffed into the crook of his neck. Especially if he had a nice neck.

I’d probably make him wear bow ties a lot, too.

“Jamie.”

Since we’re making a future boyfriend wish list, let’s add Jackson’s voice, too. And his accent.

“What now?” I’d meant for that to come out a lot more curt and exasperated than it did. Why was my voice so breathy again?

“What else do you like about me, friend?”

Oh my god. I’d never regretted befriending someone so quickly. “Literally nothing,” I said, biting back a smile. “Now would you please go back to your own corner?”

“I think I’m good right here.” He shifted closer, practically crowding me.

“Jackson,” I warned.

“Yes, friend?”

I had to swallow back a laugh. “I’m going to murder you if you don’t stop.”

He grinned. “Ah, yes, a friendly jest between two pals. I’ve seen this on television.”

That one got me. It was the delivery more than anything. He said it with so much earnest excitement that my composure crumpled, a defeated giggle escaping as the heels of my palms pressed to my eyes.

Jackson let out a low, victorious chuckle. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

Damn it.

“I hate you,” I said unconvincingly.

“Just a reminder that you brought this on yourself.”

“In my defense, I did not know you’d be like this.”

“Why? Is this not how friendship works?”

“Please stop.” My cheeks were starting to hurt.

“Can you be more clear with your directions? I’m really out of my element here.”

“Jackson! Go away!”

“No, see, you’re still not being very clear.”

I folded over my desk, face buried in my arms as a defeated laugh burst out of me. At least ten percent of my tears were from frustration.

I’d created a monster.

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