Page 26 of Love in Fine Print

“Those are when someone posts a photo of themselves that is either revealing or sexy just for likes,” he explained, despite the fact I’d told him I knew what it was.

You need this business. You need this business. You need this business,I repeated to myself over and over. But it was not working.

This guy put the douche in douchebag. He was a joke. I could never, in good conscience, subject any of the women in mydatabase to him.He saw women as staff, nothing more. The man was in his sixties but wanted a woman in her twenties. He didn’t want them to have a brain, or emotions, or any needs.

“Nice tits, nice ass, no baggage, no backtalk.” He took another puff. “And she has to love to fuck. That’s non-negotiable. And hell, look at me, I don’t think that’s too much to ask for.”

That statement served as a Jack-in-the-Box and had me springing up from my chair. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Greene.”

Mr. Greene looked at me, actually looked at me for the first time since I’d entered his home. I’d been there for about thirty minutes, and he’d shown me his whiskey collection, his gun collection, and his new Maserati. He’d spokenatme, not to me and loved the sound of his own voice. His office was filled with photos of him golfing with D-list celebrities and awards he’d won in the nineties.

“Is that it? I haven’t even finished telling you what I’m looking for,” he said as he stood.

“I’ll let you know if I have any questions.”

I turned and left the office, knowing that I should have kept my ass in that chair. A client was a client. Sure, I didn’t need the money from the business, but that didn’t mean I didn’t need clients. Gran had built Ever After Matchmaking into the premier matchmaking service and I was watching it die a slow death.

The radio began playing as soon as I got in my truck. I realized something else was bothering me as I drove along the water and wondered how Olivia’s date was going.

I hadn’t met the man personally, but he was the first match that came up when I ran Jake’s program. They had a compatibility score of ninety-seven percent. That was the highest percentage I’d seen so far in a match. I should be happy that she was on a date with someone who was such a good match…so why did I have a knot in my stomach?

It had to be because I knew if I didn’t do a good job for Olivia, she could ruin me. A bad word from her would sink my already drowning business. That was the only reason I could think of that explained the sick feeling I had in my gut, but it wasn’t the truth.

Every time I thought about Olivia being out with Darius, I pictured that toothless little girl in the photo with her dad. That light that had been in her eyes that wasn’t there now.

Was Darius good enough for that little girl inside of Olivia?

Would he be able to see through the tough façade that she put up?

Did he care about the reasons that light went out?

Those were the questions making me feel sick to my stomach.

I could lie to myself and say that the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about Olivia’s date was because she was high profile. But the truth was, it was because she was the first woman I’d been interested in. Damn, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt a spark like I had with Olivia.

Probably because I’d never felt it before.

And not only was the feelingnotmutual, she was a client.

When I sent the match to Trevor, I assumed that she would ignore it. I’d only sent it because I’d felt challenged by her assuming I couldn’t do my job. Or maybe it was because I just didn’t want our contact to be over.

I had to admit, I was still a little shocked when I got the notification that she’d accepted the match last night. It had been all I could think about.

Was she going to like him?

Were they going to hit it off?’

Would this be my first successful match?

I pulled up to Gran’s house and sighed as I got out and headed into the office. Dolly met me at the door, and I gave hera good head scratch before she went back to her dog bed, circled three times, and plopped down with a sigh.

When I sat down behind Gran’s desk, I deleted Mr. Greene’s profile. There was no way that I could work with him. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could work with any of our clients. I was failing. Miserably.

It didn’t matter how many books I’d read, how many YouTube videos I’d watched, or how much I’d studied the art of matchmaking—I did not didn’t have that sixth sense. And clearly, as evidenced by the dismal number of successful matches I’d had, the computer algorithm didn’t have it either.

Not knowing what else to do, I pulled out the handwritten letter Gran had left me in her will. The letter that set my life on a path I’d never expected it to be on.

My sweet boy,

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