Page 8 of Perfect (mis)Match

“I’m an eight,” I said quickly, hoping that would be enough to shut him up. My handicap never wavered despite the fact I rarely played these days.

“You look more like a ten to me—that’s quite a dress.” He laughed at his own joke as his eyes raced down my body. “Anyway, I’m sitting with Prent and your mom during dinner, and I’ve got a seat saved just for you. I think we have a lot in common. Maybe we can schedule eighteen holes, and I can give you some of my favorite pointers?”

Huh—what about no?

Being trapped with Prentiss and this douche for the rest of the evening sounded like a double nightmare—and this after Paul had promised me I’d be seated nowhere near Prentiss. But I could see Prentiss watching us from off to the side. If I told this guy what Ireallythought of him, I’d be stuck getting lectured about it every time Prentiss saw me for at least the next few months. I was fumbling for the nicest, most unobjectionable way to say “Go to hell” when I felt a warm hand grasp my bare shoulder.

“Hi Brock, I’m Vincent Forde,” he said as he leaned over me to offer his hand. “I’m afraid Piper’s already got a seat at the table, right next to me. Isn’t that so…sweetheart?”

I looked up at Vincent, half thankful he’d swooped in and half grumpy about what he was forcing me into. A meal with the most entitled, annoying, pompous man I’d ever met? Maybe sitting with Prentiss wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Yup,” I said through gritted teeth. “That’s a fact.”

“My name isBeck,” the guy corrected. “And sorry, man—I didn’t realize she was yours.”

Vincent ran his fingertips down the bare skin of my arm, and my breath hitched at the intimacy of it. He smiled at me, his blue eyes locked on mine, and I felt like I couldn’t inhale. “I wouldn’t say she’smine. I think this beautiful creature just allows me into her orbit now and then.”

Hold on. Beautiful? He thought I was beautiful?

The corner of Vincent’s mouth kicked up as he studied my face, like he was taking a temperature read of what he’d just suggested. He finally looked back at Beck and laughed, which knocked me out of the momentary spell he’d cast over me.

“You have a great night, Brock…I mean, Beck!” Vincent said in a cheerful voice.

The golf prodigy slumped away, leaving me to face Vincent alone.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I insisted.

“You’re welcome,” he smirked.

“I could’ve handled him!”

“And now you don’t have to,” he bowed. “Like I said, you’re welcome.”

I sputtered a string of incoherent sounds at him.

A waiter with a handheld gong signaled that everyone needed to find their seats for dinner.

“Showtime, sweetheart,” Vincent leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Let’s make this look good, for old Beckie-boy.”

He took my hand, and to my shock, it actually felt…nice.

3

VINCENT

Why did the worst driver in all of Manhattan have to be so damn…sparkly?

It was bad enough she’d dragged me to a table in Siberia instead of where I was supposed to be, at the main table with the rest of the guys. Piper should’ve been toward the front as well, but for some reason, she’d apparentlyaskedto be seated at a table filled with bit players and third cousins once removed rather than with her parents and stepbrother. We were so close to the kitchen I could see the harried chef inside every time a waiter brought out a tray.

But rather than acting like someone banished to the equivalent of the kids’ table, the woman was downright effervescent, chatting like she’d known our fellow diners for ages. We were joined by a grey hair couple who seemed charmed by her, an outgoing pair who were both in some Broadway show, and a solo middle-aged guy who had to be an accountant, and probably would’ve spent the meal monopolizing Piper if I wasn’t beside her. Not that I was paying much attention to any of them. I was here to support Paul—not to make small talk with a bunch ofrandos. As soon as we were seated, I had my phone in my hand and my inbox open.

I spent the appetizer course trying to work through a series of bad news emails about the heliotrope blight. That should have been enough to hold every ounce of my attention, but every time Piper laughed, I couldn’t look away. I’d thought she was stunning even after she’d smashed her junker into my work of art, but tonight, in a black dress? I had to fight to keep from staring.

Piper, on the other hand, treated me like I was invisible.

Whatever. After tonight, I’d probably only see her once more, at the wedding. It was for the best, since weclearlydidn’t get along.

“Vincent. Did you hear me?” Piper demanded.

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