Page 19 of The Match

One minute I’m driving Miss Daisy, and the next I’m a psycho-jealous boyfriend, fighting some random jackass in a bar because he looked at my girl wrong. I’ve never been that guy before. Not even with Natalie, and part of me wonders if we ever really loved each other.

I think Evie finds my comment amusing. She relaxes in her seat, and I can tell she’s fighting a grin by the way she’s biting her lips together. “I was actually having dinner with my parents. But someone was . . . never mind. It’s a long story.”

My grip on the wheel relaxes. I see Evie’s fingers (and bright-yellow nails) creep toward the release button for the center console. For a second, I think she is going to open it and look inside, but she catches me looking at her hand and pulls it away. All day, I caught her peeking around corners of the house when she thought I wasn’t looking. I think I even heard her open a cupboard in the guest bathroom at one point. She wouldn’t have found anything fun in there. I keep all my personal items in my bathroom.

Maybe I should find it creepy that she was searching my house. I don’t. Actually, it makes me smile, because I know she’s as curious about me as I am about her—even though I really shouldn’t be and need to put her out of my head.

Speaking of curiosity, I want to ask her more about her parents and this mysterious someone she stopped talking about, but Sam chimes in from the back seat before I get the chance.

“If you haven’t eaten, you could come with Dad and me to dinner.”

I try to flash Sam a look in the rearview mirror that says no she absolutely cannot!

Evie is not coming with us to dinner. I can’t handle any more hours with this beautiful woman. After spending the first half of the day together, I feel like I’ve been staring at the sun. I shut my eyes, and the image of her face is burned there. I might never see properly again.

Also, she made Sam laugh ten times today. Ten. I kept a tally.

Yeah, Evie’s not the only one being creepy.

I realize belatedly that Evie saw me give Sam that look. I try to play it off and smile at Evie, but she just chuckles like she’s giving me the middle finger in her head. She thinks I don’t like her all that much, and although it’s kind of torturing me, I’m also okay with her thinking that, because I’ve been working hard to give her that impression all day.

“Thanks for the offer, Sam, but I’m actually pretty tired, and I think I heard Charlie’s stomach growl earlier. I should get home and feed him.”

“You sure? You’re welcome to join us.” I’m all politeness now that I know I’m in no danger of her accepting.

She makes a guttural noise that says she knows what I’m doing. I glance up at her in time to see her lips mouth liar liar, pants on fire. She smirks and turns her face to look out the side window. I like that she never lets me get away with my rudeness.

Five minutes later we are pulling up outside a classic Charleston-style tall and skinny house in the center of town. It’s not bad. A little old and outdated, but it looks like a pretty nice place, all in all. I wonder what it looks like inside. Does she have colorful throw pillows sprinkled around the living room? Is she organized or messy? Somehow, I instinctively know that she’s messy. Evie just seems like the sort of woman to kick off her shoes haphazardly as she walks into her apartment and drop her purse somewhere random that she’ll forget by the morning. I definitely have her pegged as an “unfasten her bra, pull it out her sleeve, and toss it over the back of a couch before she’s even made it fully into the house” kind of person. I’ve seen a few women do that move and it’s always impressive to me.

I really want to walk her to her door and find out if I’m right.

Seeing me inspect her place, she says, “This isn’t my house. I rent out their detached studio apartment around back.”

Oh. Now I’m even more curious.

She gathers her purse and slings it over her shoulder. I notice that her hair gets caught under the strap, and before I realize what I’m doing, I gently lift her purse and pull her hair free. Evie’s eyes widen, and I drop her lock of hair quickly, turn, and practically barrel out my door. My face is flaming because I just touched her hair like I’ve known her forever, and . . . wait, why am I getting out of my truck? What am I supposed to do once Evie comes around to this side of it? Do we hug? Definitely not. Do we shake hands? That would be strange. I feel like a teenage boy who has no idea how to act around a woman. This is awful.

I hear Sam call out a goodbye from the back seat and watch Evie wave when she and Charlie round the truck. If I’m not mistaken, she gives my truck one appreciative glance before meeting my eyes. What would I do if she gave me that same look? I’m officially losing it.

“Well”—she squeezes that damn purse strap again—“thanks for the ride. Should I Venmo you some money for gas?”

I shake my head and stuff my hands in my pockets. “Definitely not. Glad to help out.”

She’s fidgeting, awkward, and won’t make eye contact with me. Charlie’s eyes are very judgmental. Maybe she thinks I don’t like her after that look she intercepted in the truck. Maybe that’s for the best. “Okay. Well . . . I’ll see you two tomorrow, then.”

“Right. Yeah. Sounds good.” I try to think of any way to stall. To spend just a few more seconds with Evie Jones and her beautiful green eyes that I should not be staring at. “Unless . . .”

“Unless?” Her tone shoots up.

I shift on my feet. “Unless you need me to walk you to your door?”

“Oh . . . no,” she says, tone lowering back down. “I mean, I’m good. It’s well lit back there and safe. Thank you, though. Enjoy your night.”

I wish she would smile at me—just want one for the road. She looks over my shoulder toward Sam’s window, and then her face lights up with the smile I want aimed at me, but when she looks back it falls away. None for you, jerk. I get an awkward wave instead, and then she and Charlie disappear around the house.

When I’m back in the truck and buckling up, Sam says, “She saw you make that face, you know.”

I sigh. “I know.”

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