Page 87 of Betting on the Brainiac

Oliver Locke plus Madison Leigh Armstrong equals all tension, all the time.

“Oliver, you act like you have to live on ramen and shop the grocery sales, but a champion quarter horse operation means you come from money.”

“We lived simply. We worked hard. They still do, out there getting dirty every day. They were happy to put us all through college whether we work for the family business or not. My brother majored in equine science, one sister went to vet school, and the other majored in agricultural business management and runs Gymkhana camps. But anything we do beyond college is up to us, including vehicles, housing, and advanced degrees.”

“Your parents must be so embarrassed to have a black sheep like you, running off to Texas to be the CTO of a startup.”

“Kind of, but mostly about the Texas part.”

Madison smiles as she sets Smudge down to pick up Big Stripey and run its fur against her cheek. “I wasn’t planning on marrying maybe ever, but as husbands go, you’ll do, Oliver. At least for a year.”

“Because I have a fancy horse ranch pedigree?”

“No. Because you’re a constant surprise for someone who reads people well. Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you show another layer.” Her eyes have lost their puffiness and they study me so directly that I can’t hold her gaze. I look down at Smudge instead.

“Speaking of marriage,” she says, “Joey says he’ll send over the wedding pictures today. I’ll print them out and get the receipt for filing the marriage certificate, and then I can send it to my parents this week.”

“Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything from me.” I stand to get a drink. “Want some water?”

“Sure.”

I carry Smudge against my chest and fish two bottles from the fridge, handing one to her and taking my seat again. “So thwart your parents, become a millionaire, and play with kittens. Anything else going on this week?”

“Not really. I’ve got a few shifts in the store, payroll and scheduling at the club, and then I work this weekend.” She sounds less than thrilled.

“Which part is dragging you down?”

She sets her kittens down and watches as they crawl back into a pile. “Gatsby’s, I think.”

“Rough night?” I hate that a rough night could mean anything from being pawed at to low tips.

“Not exactly. Pretty good crowd. Everyone behaved themselves. But it felt different.” She leans back on her hands. “It used to be that before we even opened the doors, there was a buzz in the air, like anything was possible. People coming in to meet their person, and for at least a few of them, it would happen. Every single night we’re open, it happens. We’ve hosted two wedding receptions because that’s where the couple met.”

“But I got 7-Eleven by the pool?” I shake my head in pretend disgust.

“You’re welcome since you will have a truly original wedding album.”

“Thanks for that. But Gatsby’s. Why was it different last night?” I know what’s coming next and force myself not to tense.

She makes a face. “Mask Man. He kind of ruined my life.”

“He didn’t come back?”

“No. I’m pretty sure he won’t.”

I can’t say anything to reassure her, because she’s right.

She smooths a wisp of hair behind her ear. “You ever have an amazing meal at a restaurant, and you go back, dreaming of this meal, and it’s good but not quite as good as the first time?”

“Sure.”

“It’s like that. It was something about that night. I could recreate all the circumstances, and if the guy came back and did the same thing, it still wouldn’t feel the same. I must have inhaled too many tequila fumes that night and bought into my own fairy tale. It’s not real life. Why can’t you and I have the same kind of chemistry?” she asks. “It would make things so much easier.”

“Doubt it.” Chemistry takes two reactants. Apparently, our friend chemistry is great, but I’m not the kind of compound that causes combustion. I keep a neutral expression. It’s not like that information is new.

Madison dusts her hands like she’s ridding herself of the whole situation. “I’m in a funk. The next thing will find me, and I’ll be fine.”

“Cool. I better get going,” I tell her climbing to my feet. The wordsit was mewant to burst out, but then what? At this point, it would probably make her feel like I trapped her, which isnotwhat I did, and she doesn’t need the weight of that knowledge.“If you’ve got the kittens, I feel better about going into the office.”

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