Page 60 of The Match

I smile. “But I’m trying to say, I’ve seen what kind of man you are, and you’re the kind that learns from your past and improves for your future. You always make things right. That’s such a special quality, Jake.”

There’s a lot more I’d like to say—but right now I get the feeling he just needs someone on his side who can scoop him up off the ground, dust him off, and say try again.

But then again, maybe that’s just me being selfish, because I really want Jake to try again . . . with me.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, and it breaks my heart to see the heaviness he carries on his shoulders. So, of course I need to say something to try to lighten it just a little. “But you know what, at the end of the day, even if everything around you is crumbling . . . at least you can know you have a great butt.”

Jake barks out a laugh and shakes his head at me. “You and butts.”

“Yours is especially bubbly. How did you get it that way? Tell me now, are they implants? I won’t think less of you.”

He gives me a wry grin. “I’ll never tell, Butt Girl.”

“Oof. That’s not going to be my nickname.”

I’m now one hundred percent certain that if Jake and I make this work, he’s going to buy me a mug for Christmas that says I like big butts and I cannot lie. I’ll worry about that bridge when I have to cross it.

“Yeah, I heard how it sounded after it came out.” His playful smile dips into one more vulnerable. “So, now that you know all the baggage I’m carrying, do you still want to date me?”

I feign a look of contemplation for a second before my eyes shift to him. “I’m in,” I say, and then I lean in slowly to place a soft kiss on his mouth. I hear him take in a breath, and his hand lands on my jaw. But then, before things get too interesting, he groans and breaks the seal of our lips. He’s smiling and shaking his head. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not going to distract me out of my turn.”

“Shoot. I thought that was going to work.” I lean my shoulder against the swing. “Fine. Do your worst.”

“Tell me about your relationship with your parents.” Ouch. So, this is how it feels when someone goes right for the kill.

I scrunch my nose and try to decide where to start. Fifth-grade talent show, when my mom scolded me all the way home for missing the high note and coming in third? Nah. Instead, I tell Jake what it was like growing up in a house with parents who only care about money and status. I tell him how the only time my mom ever showed me any affection was when we were in public and a woman who appeared to have better domestic skills was watching. “And now they are trying to freeze me out. If I’m poor enough and hungry enough, they think I’ll come to my senses and marry Tyler. But the joke is on them, because I know how to make a pack of ramen noodles last a whole week.”

“Which reminds me, I grilled an extra steak for you to take home.” He just keeps getting better.

“Careful. I’m like a stray cat. If you feed me, I might keep coming back.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” He smiles, and my stomach turns inside out.

“Anyway, I just decided that if I’m never going to be good enough for them, I might as well have them be disappointed in me for doing something I love rather than living a life that makes me feel like crap.”

He reaches up and runs his hand through my hair. The look on his face says he’s wanted to do that all night—maybe even since he met me. “Evie, you’re an incredible woman. I’m sorry your parents don’t recognize that.”

I’m not good with compliments. It’s either because I’m not used to hearing them or because I’ve heard so much criticism over the course of my life that I can’t believe the good things people tell me, but either way, I want to throw my hands up and bat away those compliments like I’m Babe Ruth.

“Eh. I’m messy, and forgetful, and I don’t like greens.”

Jake’s eyes grow serious, and I’m sure he’s about to convince me of all the reasons he thinks I’m wonderful, so I stand abruptly and smooth out my dress. “It’s getting late. I better call an Uber. Charlie’s getting antsy.”

Jake lifts his brows and glances around me. I follow his gaze to my traitorous dog, who’s curled up in a comfy little ball by the porch railing. “You’re right. He looks super anxious.”

“Yep. This is how he manifests anxiety. He looks chill, but believe me, inside, he’s fit to be tied.”

Now run, Evie.

Jake grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop. “Why are you getting squirmy again?” He stands up and invades my space.

“I’m not,” I lie. I’m squirming because Jake is the first man in a long time that I’ve wanted to look into my eyes and convince me that I mean something to him. I really can feel myself falling for him, and falling in love with someone on a first date is definitely not slow material.

“Stay with me tonight,” he says quietly. Well, that’s definitely not going to help anything either. “Not for sex. I just mean, stay here tonight. We can stay up all night talking, or watching a movie, or whatever. I just . . . I won’t get many chances like this to spend time with you without Sam, and I want to take advantage of every minute I get.”

I should go home. I should not stay.

Ohhhhh, but I want to stay. Staying sounds like a dream. And Charlie does look awfully comfortable. What kind of a heartless person would I be to wake my sleeping pup when he looks that comfy?

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