Page 5 of Bargain Match

I nod, hoping I haven’t just committed us both to the biggest mistake in the world. “We have a deal.”

“Good.” A smile bursts across her face, and I’m momentarily stupefied by it.

She’s been stunning me with it for years, and I’m still not used to it. I doubt I will ever be.

“Because I have some news.”

My gut twists. “I don’t like the way you said that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s good news.” She bounces in her seat. “We’ve both been matched up with dates. And—in even better news—the Matchmaker is bringing the dates here to meet us.”

THREE

HADLEY

Burke pulls the truck to a stop in front of the restaurant where our blind dates are set to take place.

I take a deep breath and release it slowly. “I don’t know about this.”

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about this now.” He turns the key, and the truck shudders off. Like Burke, the truck always sounds like a grizzled detective days away from retirement who is getting too old for this shit. “The whole damn thing was your idea.”

“I’m not talking about that.” I flip the visor down to check my lipstick. But the mirror falls off the visor before I catch so much as a glimpse. “We clearly need the money we’ll get from these dates. Your truck is falling apart.”

“My truck is fine.”

I scoff as I scoop the mirror up from the floor. “Right. It’s completely fine.”

To the best of my ability in the dim glow cast from the street light, I inspect my carefully applied makeup. Like his truck, it’s… fine.

I would have loved to get some eyelash extensions, or even have my eyebrows microbladed, before the big date tonight. I’m okay when it comes to lipstick and mascara, but I’ve yet to master anything remotely close to contouring.

Unfortunately, there just wasn’t time to schedule anything. Burke has had both of us burning the midnight oil setting up our storefront so it’ll be ready for us to open when we’re back from our respective travel dates.

Besides, we’re supposed to be saving money right now. Going in for glam treatments isn’t exactly a priority when our primary source of transportation is on its last legs and we have business loan payments coming up.

At least I was able to find a tutorial to do a wingtip for my eyeliner. And, I didn’t do too terribly if I do say so myself.

Granted, it took me three attempts and a whole bunch of swearing.

“Why are you wearing all of that anyway?” Burke asks.

“Wearing what?”

“That paint all over your face.”

“It’s not paint.” I roll my eyes. “It’s makeup.”

“You don’t usually wear so much makeup.”

“Usually, I’m leading a tour group of yuppies in town for a bachelor’s weekend or a bunch of guys old enough to be my father. And I don’t care how I look.”

“You don’t need it. You look beautiful without it.”

My heart skips a beat, but I pretend to be unaffected by the compliment. I’m sure he’s just saying it because he can tell I’m nervous.

Or, he really does have no sense of what does and doesn’t look good.

I touch up my dark red lipstick. I pucker my lips at my reflection and fold the visor back up, tucking the mirror between it and the top of the truck. “I’m not trying to make a guy fall in love with me at first sight.”

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