Page 2 of Furry Equations

“Trust me, ladies.” Gerri’s smile turned mischievous. “They’ll be getting to know each other very well soon enough. No one stays single forever when I set my sights on them.”

“But how?” both mothers demanded in unison.

“Now, now.” Gerri waggled her finger. “A matchmaker never reveals her secrets. Though I will say, it’s amazing how often true love blooms in the middle of a crisis.”

“Crisis?” Victoria paled. “What crisis?”

“Did I say crisis? I meant... opportunity.” Gerri’s innocent look fooled no one. “Don’t worry. I have a perfect track record.”

“That’s what concerns me,” Eleanor muttered. “Wasn’t it your matchmaking that led to that tiger shifter and the librarian getting trapped in the rare books vault?”

“They emerged engaged, didn’t they?” Gerri shrugged. “And the fire damage was minimal.”

“Fire damage?” Victoria squeaked.

“Gerri!” A wave of perfume announced the arrival of Margot Chen, another society mother. “You have to help my Sarah. She’s brilliant—graduated MIT at nineteen—but she can barely make eye contact with potential suitors! Last week, she tried speed dating and calculated the statistical probability of finding love instead of talking to her dates.”

“And my twins,” Amanda Porter chimed in. “They’re running their own tech startup, but their dating life is a disaster. They keep trying to optimize their dating apps and ended up creating an AI that rejected everyone in New York!”

Gerri found herself surrounded by a circle of concerned mothers, each eager to secure her services. She held up her hands in surrender. “Ladies! One match at a time. Though I should warn you—once I take on a case, there’s no stopping fate. Just ask Mrs. Rodriguez about how her daughter met that lovely merman during what was supposed to be a simple beach vacation.”

“Didn’t they end up stranded on an island?” someone whispered.

“A very romantic island,” Gerri corrected. “The Coast Guard said they’d never seen such a happy rescue. And the merfolk community threw a beautiful underwater wedding.”

“But you’ll help Sarah next?” Margot pleaded.

“I promise to work my way down the list.” Gerri’s eyes twinkled. “Though at this rate, matchmaking might become my full-time job. Now, who’s ready to officially not discuss any books at this book club?”

The women laughed, tension easing as servers began circulating with the first course. Victoria and Eleanor lingered behind as the others drifted toward their seats.

“Do you really think it could work?” Victoria asked softly. “Marcus and Natalie?”

Eleanor nodded. “They’re both so driven, so independent...”

“Which is exactly why they’re perfect for each other.” Gerri raised her champagne flute. “To the success of the Matchmaker’s Book Club—and to love finding a way, even for the most stubborn hearts. Especially when they least expect it.”

As glasses clinked and conversation flowed around her, Gerri smiled. Marcus Vale and Natalie Grant had no idea what was coming. But then, the best matches often started with an element of surprise—and maybe just a touch of mischief from a certain matchmaker.

She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to her contact at the lab where Natalie worked. Time to set the wheels in motion. After all, nothing brought two stubborn people together quite like a little chaos, a dash of danger, and perhaps a small, controlled explosion or two.

Purely accidental, of course.

Gerri couldn’t wait to see how it all unfolded. In her experience, the harder they fought fate, the harder they fell in love.

ONE

Natalie Grant’s phone buzzed with its fifteenth reminder of the evening. She silenced it without looking, focused on arranging her cutlery with scientific precision. The quiet clink of silver against the pristine tablecloth provided a soothing counterpoint to the chaos in her mind—equations, molecular structures, tomorrow’s meeting with the mysterious new CEO of Vale Corp.

“Earth to Natalie.” Lillian’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Did you hear anything I said about Nick’s surgery, or are you still mentally reorganizing your periodic table?”

Natalie blinked, looking up from her place setting to find her younger sister’s bright green eyes fixed on her with familiar exasperation. Their parents’ faces held matching expressions of fond resignation across the intimate table at Le Bernardin. Her mother’s perfectly manicured nails tapped against her water glass—the universal signal forpay attention or I’ll start talking about your biological clock again.

“Sorry, I...” Natalie ran her fingers through her loose blonde waves, a nervous habit she’d never quite conquered. “I’ve got this breakthrough percolating, and the compound ratios?—“

“Are absolutely fascinating, I’m sure.” Eleanor Grant’s tone carried the practiced patience of a mother who’d spent decades redirecting her genius daughter’s attention back to the present moment. “But perhaps we could focus on family during family dinner? Unless you’d prefer I tell everyone about the time you tried to calculate the optimal trajectory for throwing your peas when you were five?”

“Mom!” Natalie straightened. “I was conducting important research on projectile motion.”

---