Page 22 of The Merry Matchmaker

Oh, why didn’t they both go home?

“What a waste of a Friday night,” Stef grumbled as she drove back to her condo. “Come on over, sister. I’ve got the perfect man for you. Only he’s not interested in you. He’s interested in me. Ha ha.”

And why? Stef wasn’t bad-looking. She knew she had nice eyes. Even Richard the narcissist had told her so. She had great hair—thick with the smallest amount of wave to give it body. A symmetrical face, which, she’d read somewhere online, was supposed to be the ultimate in beauty. She was also in great shape—Richard had constantly goaded her into that. Plus, she was younger than her sister by twelve years, for crying out loud. What did Frankie have that Stef didn’t?

Wrinkles.

Okay, they were laugh lines around her eyes. And Frankie did have a great laugh. She had great eyes, too. Bigger boobs. Maybe that was the lure. What else could it be? Unless Brock was into older women. Maybe he was looking for a mommy replacement. If he was... Eeew, Frankie could have him.

But he was hot, and he was nice, and Stef had expected him to, if not fall for her, at least show some passing interest. Getting shown up by your older sister—how humiliating. Especially when your older sister was trying to match you up with the guy, for crying out loud. And honestly, all that raving over the peppermint pie.

You should have brought dessert instead of spinach salad. What man wants salad when he can have pie?

It was as if Richard the Dick was standing at her shoulder, whispering in her ear. It sounded like the kind of thing he’d have said.

In fact, it was exactly what he’d have said. He always had a put-down handy to dole out.

Not at first, though. He’d had to win her before he could stomp on her. He’d pulled out all the stops when they were dating, living the high life like he could afford it—nice restaurants, flowers, a surprise trip to Vegas, where he’d proposed.

Boy, had she bet on the wrong man.

He’d said a lot of snide things over the course of their seven-year marriage, and when he wasn’t disrespecting her, getting on her for whatever latest thing she’d done wrong, he was ignoring her.

That actually hurt the worst, but in retrospect, it was hardly surprising. Once you’d dangled the bait and caught the fish and mounted it, why bother to spend time with it? It was just a dead fish on the wall.

He’d done so much to rattle her and make her doubt her worth that it still surprised her she’d been able to walk away and rediscover her self-confidence. She didn’t have to go groveling for any man to pay attention to her.

So Frankie could have her boy toy. It was fine with Stef.

Three games of cards later, Frankie’s two remaining guests looked ready to stay for three more, but Frankie had had enough of cards. And of the men. Between Brock’s flirting and Mitch’s scowling, she was on man overload.

“Well, that was fun,” she said. “And now, I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.”

“You won the last two games. You’re not going to give us a chance to get even?” Brock protested.

“Afraid not. I have to be in the shop bright and early tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep.”

“That’s something you definitely don’t need,” Brock told her.

“You’re right, she doesn’t,” said Mitch, not to be outdone. “But she does need to recharge. Saturdays are always busy downtown this time of year, especially in Frankie’s shop.”

“Then I guess we’d better go,” Brock said.

Once at the door with coats on, both men stood there, each one trying to outwait the other.

No, no, we are not going to stand here all night.

“Okay, you two. I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Frankie said, and swung the door wide.

There was nothing for them to do but walk out.

As soon as they were gone, she called Stef. It was half past eleven, but Frankie knew her sister would still be awake. Stef was a night owl. Plus, her feathers were ruffled. She’d be too stirred up to go to bed.

Sure enough, she answered on the second ring. “What?”

“What, indeed?” Frankie said irritably. “What is wrong with you? Here I go to all the trouble to plan a dinner...” which had not gone according to plan, but that was beside the point “...and you turn into a lemon, say obnoxious things and then leave early. And that ‘cougars in the kitchen’ crack. Really? That showed you in a good light.”

“There was no light left thanks to you, and there was no point in staying. Brock wasn’t interested in me.”

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