Page 51 of The Match

“Hi,” I reply, and I’m a little embarrassed to say it sounds more like a mouse squeak.

Come on, water. Fill faster!

“I’m Garrett.”

Okay. Nice. Cool. So, what’s going on here? This never happens to me. I briefly glance down, worried that maybe Charlie ran away, because men never approach me when Charlie is around. He and his blue vest are a giant man deterrent.

“Evie,” I say with a polite smile and then turn to set my cup on the counter and put the lid back on. Annnnnd then Garrett is beside me again, doing the same with his lid.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

Huh. Okay, so he did see Charlie. And he’s not scared off? I don’t know how I feel about this. Actually, yes, I do. I’m not interested in this guy. Maybe a month ago, before I met Jake, I would have felt flattered. But right now, I just kind of want to extract myself from the conversation as quickly and politely as possible.

“This is Charlie.”

“Sup, Charlie,” he says, and I smile instead of telling him not to distract my dog while he’s working. “Are you from around here?”

Alrighty, then. I guess we are going to do the chitchat thing now.

This is so bizarre. Do men have some kind of scent tracker that helps them sniff out the women in town who are unavailable? Because, I swear, I never got hit on by cute, normal-seeming guys before Jake asked me out.

“Yeah, I am. Are you?”

“Kind of. I just moved here a few months ago, so I’m still trying to get my bearings in the city.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’m actually a physician’s assistant over at Roper Hospital.” Cool, cool, cool. Didn’t ask you, but that’s all right.

“That’s a great hospital.”

“Yeah? You’ve been?” He’s asking like we’re talking about a hot new club that just opened or something. No way, I love that place! Maybe we could go together sometime. I know people who can get you one of the good gowns without stains on it. It’s a strange topic of conversation, but I give him slack because I’m betting he’s just trying to find ways to keep me here talking and will likely want to punch himself later for asking that question.

I laugh lightly. “A few times, yeah.” I glance down at Charlie, and Garrett follows my gaze to the patch that says Seizure-Assist Dog. A look of dawning understanding hits Garrett’s face, and I expect him to start moonwalking away from me any second.

He doesn’t. “Ah—I see. So, look, Evie, this is really forward of me and probably going to creep you out a little, but . . . I think you’re really attractive, and I’d like to take you out sometime if you’re free.”

If I’m free? Does he mean if my schedule is free? Or if my relationship status is single and I’m free to date other people? Because I don’t know. I mean, Jake and I talk every day, we flirt, we’ve kissed a few times, and we have a date on Friday . . . but does that, technically, mean I’m in a relationship?

I cast a quick glance at Jo, hoping she’ll give me a thumbs-up or thumbs-down for what I should do right now, but her eyes are still glued to my phone. Useless. I think she’s even screenshotting text conversations to forward to Gary.

I look back to Garrett and do a quick assessment of him: nice dark hair, well-trimmed beard, taller than me, an open smile. And overall, he’s not setting off any alarms that make me feel like I should ask a security guard to walk me to my car when I leave here.

But the truth is, all I can think about is Jake. I like Jake. I want to date Jake, not this guy. “You seem nice, Garrett, which is why I feel like I should be honest and tell you that I’m sorta-kinda seeing someone.”

Garrett gives me a kind smile and nods. He then reaches into the laptop bag that’s slung over his shoulder and pulls out a pen. After grabbing a clean napkin, he writes his number on it and hands it to me. “Well, since ‘sorta-kinda’ doesn’t sound like you’ve set a wedding date yet, here’s my number. Call me if you find yourself in need of a fun date.”

A voice I hate sounds behind me. “Hitting on my girl? Not cool, dude.” When in the hell did Tyler Murray sneak up behind me? He drops his arm over my shoulder like he owns me.

Tyler pulls the slip of paper with Garrett’s number on it out of my hand and tears it in two. Because, yep, that’s the kind of guy Tyler is.

Garrett gives me a look that says he’s worried about my intelligence for dating a jerk like Tyler. I flash an apologetic smile and wait for Garrett to walk away, planning to throw my elbow into Tyler’s southern regions.

He knows me too well, though, because the second Garrett walks away, Tyler jumps back with a big grin. “You were going to hit me, weren’t you?”

“Why are you saying it in the past tense? The threat is still real.”

Tyler is still very much the same man who moved to New York five years ago. He’s wearing a dark-gray suit that hugs his toned body. He’s tall with blond hair and green eyes (yes, we look like siblings, and that truly freaks me out). And he’s still got the same slithery smile. He openly scans my body and then raises and lowers his brows. “Well, shoot, Eves. You look even better than the last time I saw you.”

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