Page 15 of Matched

Chapter Six

Inara

Irake my fingers through my hair and pace, trying not to hyperventilate. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I think I could start. Right here. Right now. Because I just found out that the man I’d been matched with as a life partner had joined the program after losing a round of poker. This is my life we’re talking about. My life that this idiot treated like it was some kind of fucking reality show game. Just when I was starting to think we’d actually have a chance together after the past week of sharing meals and discovering that beneath that flippant exterior, Tony is a thoughtful man in a lot of ways I’d never imagined possible, like cooking, and cleaning. I’d even caught him weeding the flower bed one morning.

“Will you at least hear me out?” Tony is standing against the door, voice low, tone pleading.

“What’s there to hear out? Was Craiger lying? Please tell me that’s the case.” A tiny, naïve hope flares in my chest. Maybe this is just an epic misunderstanding. Surely not even Tony would be foolish enough to sign up for a military program over a silly bet.

That hope dies a swift death when Tony shuffles his feet and his head drops so his gaze is focused on the floor, brows furrowed as if trying to come up with an answer. “I mean, I wasn’t drunk. And there wasn’t a bet or anything. So technically speaking, Craiger is out ten bucks.”

“ARGH!” I pick up a stiletto out of my closet and chuck it at the floor. “Technically speaking? What does that even mean?” I shake my head and try to think. “So, you weren’t drunk, and there wasn’t a bet? But that means... you did sign up on a whim.”

He clears his throat. “I, uh... sort of, I guess.”

“You guess. Are you saying you don’t even know why you signed up?”

Tony licks his lips and opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, then huffs and closes his mouth, giving a helpless shrug instead.

I groan. “Who does that? Signs up to get married as a lark? I can’t believe this is happening. Except, wait, I can. Because this is you we’re talking about. Master of juvenile behavior.”

He winces at my harsh words, but I don’t care. I bury my face in my hands. Who am I kidding? This is my fault. I should never have expected a guy like him to take marriage seriously.

Every morning when I sneak into the living room to find him ass up, face squished against a pillow, and drool pooling beneath one cheek, my guard comes down. With his fan of dark lashes and no devilish smirk to distract from his looks, he reminds me of a little boy. Or at least a more innocent, darker, and more handsome version of Mr. Clean. And that, combined with the cooking, suckered me into believing this whole thing could work out.

I’m so stupid. So naïve. At this rate I really will end up like...

I flinch. Nope. Not going there.

Anger flares again. I welcome the hot flame in my chest by picking up another shoe from the floor of the walk-in closet and launching it as hard as I can into the carpet. The wedge bounces and skitters across the floor until it smacks the wall.

Tony sidesteps and holds up both hands. “I know this sounds bad?”

“You think?” Damn him. Damn. Him.

And damn me. I toss my head, blowing a loose curl out of my face at the same time. Time for him to take some responsibility. Time to make the admission. I close my eyes and count to five while inhaling deeply, until I’m sure I can communicate without massacring my own shoes. “What do you think makes it sound bad?”

“Does that deep breathing stuff really work?” He straightens to his full height when he asks the question. I mirror the motion and growl a curse, and he has the good grace to flush. He toys with a bottle of perfume on my dresser, ducking his head and glancing up at me through his lashes. “Look. I’m an idiot. We both know it because I don’t hide it. Hell, even Mason knows it, and he can’t even wipe his own ass without someone around for quality control.”

I hesitate, the image of Mason and Tony curled up together on the couch whittling away at my anger because I’ve never seen that side of him before. With Mason, he’s a caregiver, a family man, a man capable of giving a shit, and that tempting little fantasy draws me in. I’m a fish on his hook. I want a family, kids, the whole shebang. Not even just one kid, but multiple. Growing up as an only child was lonely as hell. I want to give my kids built-in playmates. That way, if anything ever goes wrong, they’d at least have each other. I thought the program was my chance to get moving on that goal, but now I’m right back at ground zero. It’s almost cruel, the way Tony leads me into believing we have a real shot at a future together one moment, and then yanks the illusion away the next.

My arms tighten around myself, a subconscious search for comfort. “You’re an ass. Half the battle is admitting the problem. But how am I supposed to make this work when I know you signed up as a joke?” The words make my stomach hurt. And then a horrifying thought enters my head. “Oh my God, did you even answer the questions correctly?” Because if not... that would explain sooo much.

And would also mean we were completely fucked as a couple, because the program would have matched us based on false information.

Tony gives an emphatic shake of his head. “No! I promise. I answered everything as honestly as I could.”

His admission is not much, but I’ll take what I can get at this point. A tiny portion of the cramp in my lungs eases. Okay, he’d signed up as a whim. But it’s a done deal now. And maybe, if the committee matched us up, we still had a shot at making this work. However minuscule that shot might be.

While I’m processing this new information, Tony edges toward me until we’re both inside of the closet. He’s eating up all the space, and I inhale the spicy scent of his cologne. He moves in as if he can drive his sincerity home with proximity alone. “Trust me, I need this situation to succeed. If we call it quits before the final meeting with the review board, I could lose my job. And I’d definitely be kissing my chances at Officer Candidate School goodbye.”

I’d been staring sightless in the general vicinity of his chest, but after he speaks, my head whips back so I can look him in the eye, because I damned sure didn’t read that in the contract. “Is this another joke? Because if so, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

He throws his hands up. “No joke, I promise. Believe me, I wish it was.” He glances aside and his jaw clenches in an uncharacteristic way.

This is another side of Tony I’ve never met. Brooding. Contemplative. Dare I say, thoughtful? Until today, I wasn’t sure he was capable of many modes beyond goofy and annoying. Part of me wants to reach out and lay a hand against the tense line of his shoulder, but I curl my fingers into my fist instead. He doesn’t deserve my comfort yet. He still has some explaining to do.

Tony meets my gaze once more, his brown gaze blazing with determination. “Redding doesn’t believe I’ll be dedicated enough to make it as an officer candidate. And this is the yardstick he’s measuring my dedication against. So if I fuck this up, I’m out. I’ve been busting my ass to get this commendation. I need us to work. For a year. Then we can go our separate ways.”

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