Page 26 of The Match

I laugh. “Many things.”

“Wait. Do you not like all candy? Are you one of those guys who only eats lean proteins and greens? I mean, it would make sense based on the way you look, but . . .”

My smile is wide and cocky. “The way I look?”

“Now who’s looking for compliments?”

I laugh fully and realize I could sit here and talk to her all night. That thought scares me as much as it excites me. “I like brownies—extra fudgy and with chocolate chips, slightly under-baked.”

Her blond brow raises. “Really? Okay, I can respect that. I love chocolate.”

Are we really having this conversation? It’s so casual and sweet and unimportant and . . . exactly what I’ve been missing in my life lately.

“What’s your favorite color Skittle?” I ask.

She rests her head against the back of the swing and pulls the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her fists. “Red. Do you have any siblings?”

“Four sisters.”

“Four! Goodness gracious,” she says, sounding as southern as apple pie. “Are you close with them?”

“Very. I couldn’t have gotten through this year without them.” I can feel the conversation drifting toward the therapist’s couch again, so I steer it away. “How about you?” Somehow, I can picture her fitting in with four sisters.

She shakes her head. “It’s just me and my parents. And before you ask me that question, no, we do not get along.”

“Really? Why not?”

She chuckles a little, but it doesn’t sound like the happy kind. “They want me to be someone I’m not. They have very clear expectations for me and who I should be. From the day I flung my toddler beauty pageant crown in my mom’s face, I’ve been letting them down.”

“I’m sorry. That’s gotta be hard.” I can’t imagine anyone ever being disappointed with this woman. I mean, she trains service dogs for a living. That’s pretty saintly.

Her smile is soft, and her green eyes pin me in my seat. We are locked in a stare as the porch swing continues to sway us back and forth, and I never want this game to end. Except, it does when Evie’s eyes fall to my lips. Did she look there intentionally? My stomach swoops, and I’m wondering how friendly it would be to tug her over to me and find out if her lips taste like strawberries. I’ve been dwelling on that important question since I saw her apply a pink lip balm earlier.

“Can I ask you something that’s a little out of line for the business friendship we have?” she asks, her voice breathy and nervous.

“Sure. I’m all ears.”

Her smile is tentative, and I wonder if she’s going to ask me out. Do I want her to? Truthfully, I think she can do so much better than me.

“Will you consider letting Sam go to the slumber party with her friends?”

And just like that, I’m a popped balloon—air rushing out of me as I fall and land deflated on the ground.

In the tiny span of time between her potential and actual question, my mind has taken a hundred different turns. None of which I can voice out loud because I’m too much of a gentleman—

or at least I pretend I am.

“The slumber party?” Now I’m just stalling, feeling like I need a minute to reel my thoughts back in.

“Yeah. Sam told me about the slumber party at her friend Jenna’s house. She really wants to go, and I think it would be good for her.” She bites the bottom corner of her lip, and I realize that she’s nervous. She’s afraid I’m going to revert back to my caveman ways and beat the ground, telling her to get out of my house.

I’ve got news for her: I’m not going to be that guy again. I’m done being the jerk around her, so I smile and purposefully relax into the swing. “She gave you her doe eyes, didn’t she?”

Evie’s face lights up. “The biggest eyes I’ve ever seen! I think she even managed to let a single tear pool in one of them. How does she do that?”

I laugh. “She’s an impressive human being. But honestly, Evie . . .

I don’t know about the party. I don’t think I’m ready for her to do something like that.”

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