Page 22 of The Match

I despise the idea of accepting my parents’ money or using their name in any way, but I do know that if word spreads around town that they are attending the benefit, all the other elitists will come too. No one wants to be the couple who didn’t attend the same event as Melony and Harold Jones. And likely, if they see my mom offering up a check, the money will pour in like manna from heaven. Now that I think about it, it was selfish of me not to invite them in the first place.

For the sake of the company, I can lay down my pride long enough to add my parents’ names to the guest list. But under no circumstances will I be adding Tyler Murray’s name. I’ll never be that selfless.

I pick up my phone and find that Joanna has texted me again. Just seeing her name on the screen helps my shoulders relax and my breathing to stabilize. She has given me a place in this world that I never expected to have; the least I can do is help the company she loves thrive.

JO: After we find you a dress, we need to find you a date.

EVIE: I have one. I need to buy Charlie a tux, though.

JO: I was thinking more along the lines of that sexy dad that gave you a ride home last night.

EVIE: You’ve never even seen him.

JO: I don’t have to. When a man has a timbre to his voice like his, he has no choice but to be sexy. Bring him!

EVIE: No. He doesn’t like me. Besides, shouldn’t you be discouraging any fraternization between me and our clients?

JO: We’re not a PR team for a presidential candidate. Fraternize all night if you want:)

Shoot. I was really hoping she would ban any thoughts of making out or otherwise with Jacob Broaden. It would be easier to swallow his rejection if I knew I couldn’t have him even if he did like me.

CHAPTER 10

Evie

I sling my purse over my shoulder and gather Charlie’s leash. It’s been a long day of training at Sam’s house, and she’s done amazing. She’s picked up the techniques so quickly that I’m considering asking her to drop out of elementary school and come work for me as a trainer.

Sam approaches me slowly as I gather my things, her bare toes scuffing the plush rug. She’s after something. She glances toward the kitchen where Jacob disappeared a moment ago and then back to me.

“Spill it,” I tell her when she works up the nerve to meet my eyes.

She smiles—something she’s started doing more and more over the past two days—and asks, “Do you think . . . well . . . there’s this birthday slumber party at one of my friends’ house coming up . . .”

“Mm-hmm,” I say, setting my purse down and giving Sam my full attention. “Go on.”

“Do you think Daisy will be ready by then to go with me . . . you know . . . if I can convince my dad?”

“I don’t see why not. I think you and Daisy are bonding quickly.” And that’s the truth. I’ve been impressed with how attentive Daisy has been to Sam. Anytime Sam simulates a seizure, Daisy has snapped into action immediately, rolling Sam onto her side and going to alert Jacob before returning to Sam’s side and licking her face until the “seizure” subsides.

“Oh, great.” Sam doesn’t look relieved, though. This conversation wasn’t really about asking if Daisy will be ready or not.

“Are you sure that’s all you wanted to talk about?”

“No.” Sam gives me a crooked grin that has seriously started to melt my heart.

I learned yesterday morning when I asked Jacob in private if Sam’s mom could come around sometime during the next week to get acclimated with Daisy that she apparently left a couple years ago. The way he made it sound, and how rigid his shoulders went while saying it, I got the impression that his ex-wife is gone and there’s little chance of her coming back. Of course I wanted to ask a million questions, but I didn’t feel that it would be welcome, so I just quickly moved on to another topic (but spent the rest of the day obsessing over what kind of a woman would leave this sweet girl behind).

“Actually, I was kind of hoping that maybe you could talk to my dad about the slumber party for me. He doesn’t think it would be safe for me to go, but since you have epilepsy and live on your own with Charlie, you could convince him that I would be fine, and he would listen to you.”

Ha! Listen to me? I think I’m the last person in the world that Jacob Broaden wants to listen to. It’s clear as day that the man is only tolerating my presence because of Daisy. He doesn’t meet my eye when he’s in the same room as me. He goes through ridiculous feats to stand as far away from me as possible and only responds to me in one-word answers.

I have no idea what I did to make this man not like me so quickly, but I wish I knew, because then I could bottle it and spray it all over myself before I go to the grocery store. Maybe then it would keep all those weirdos from hitting on me. Why can’t the normal ones ever hit on me? You better believe that if a man is talking to me in a grocery store, he smells like body odor and Funyuns and is advising me on which foods will “enhance my hourglass figure.” True story.

“I don’t know, Sam.” I look down at Charlie, and his eyes say it all. Bad idea. Do not engage. Set down gently and walk away. He’s so smart.

Sam, however, does the dirtiest, meanest trick in the book. She reaches out and grabs my hand with big ol’ Bambi eyes. The little terrorist. “Please, Evie. You’re my only hope. I’ve tried, but he won’t listen to me. I really want to go to this party. Everyone is going to be there, and I really miss my friends.”

So, this is what it feels like to have your heartstrings tugged like a puppet.

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