Page 24 of Cupid Loves Curves

“Maybe it will work this time,” I tell myself, placing my glass in the dishwasher. Trying the matchmaking service is a leap offaith, and what is the pursuit of love, if not the ultimate leap of faith?

CHAPTER 2

LUKE

Come again?” I ask, my voice a sharp bark of disbelief.

I must be drunk if Daryl said what I think he said. That’s the most asinine fucking thing I’ve ever heard.

“Mack and Aimee’s wedding is coming up. You need a date.”

A growl escapes my mouth as I glare at Daryl. He’s not wrong, but…this isn’t right. The only thing worse than weddings is going without a date. Without a woman on my arm, every single woman will make a pass at me, and I’ll wish I wasn’t there. Women think a wedding means open season on every single man there.

“The fuck I do,” I mutter, draining the rest of my beer and motioning to the bartender, Marian, for a refill. I shouldn’t have another before Waylon and the others get here, but right now, I need to be not-sober.

“Come on, Foster. You’ve been moping around like some tragic hero in one of the romance novels my mom used to read. It’s time you got back in the game,” Daryl teases and slaps my back,nearly making me spill my fresh beer. He doesn’t try to hide how much he’s enjoying pissing me off.

“Listen here, Mathis,” I growl and set my beer carefully on the bar, my annoyance flaring hot. “I don’t need you—or anyone else—meddling in my love life. Or lack thereof.”

“Relax, Luke. You need a woman in your life. When’s the last time you took a woman out?” Daryl presses, not letting this go. “Don’t you think it’s time you put yourself back out there? Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone who can handle your broody ass.”

“Maybe I do, but this isn’t the way to do it, Daryl.” Inwardly, I admit he’s probably right. It’s not that I don’t want a woman in my life. I’m still dealing with the burden of what I saw when I was in the Army. It’s already ruined one relationship with an amazing woman – my best friend’s sister, no less – and I’m scared that I’ll shut down again instead of letting a woman in. Though the truth is, I haven’t had eyes for any other woman since Jessica.

Daryl laughs and drains his beer, motioning to Marian for a refill. “You say that, but you have to admit you want more than this solitary life you’ve been leading.”

“What about you, you fucking lunatic?” I counter. I’m not sure Daryl’s ever had a woman in his life for longer than a weekend. “How is the man who claims he’ll never settle down with a woman suddenly an expert onmydating life?”

“We’re not talking about me. I’m happy as I am. You, on the other hand,” Daryl says, tilting his beer toward me, “are not happy on your own. You’re just too in your head to do something about it.”

Daryl’s comment pushes me into silence. He’s…not exactly wrong. Still. “Tell me why I shouldn’t haul you out of this bar and whoop your sorry ass into oblivion?” I threaten, but I’m laughing now. Even if Daryl is technically right, I’m still giving him shit for having done this without my permission.

“Because even if the date doesn’t work out – and it’s only one date – you win twenty-thousand bucks. You said you wanted to build out your cabin, and this could finance that, because I know you’re not aching to jet off to the Bahamas or London.”

A sharp laugh bursts out of me. “Damn straight. King Mountain has everything I need – especially the quiet.”

“So you’re not going to bail?” Daryl holds up an envelope that looks a lot like the wedding invitation I received for Mack and Aimee’s wedding. “Because I have details for your date right here.”

I glare at him and snatch the fancy invitation from him. “Give it to me.”

I read through it. It has instructions to meet my date at Ciao, Bella!, which is fine. I don’t eat out often, but I know they have good food. There’s a second envelope inside, which I’m supposed to open after the first part of the date. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?” Daryl asks, trying to read the card over my shoulder.

“It says there are two parts to the date. If this date is torture, I’m going to hunt you down and make you pay.”

Daryl snorts and pays for the new round of beers. “In your dreams, Foster.”

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter under my breath. “This matchmaker isn’t pulling any shots.”

Daryl laughs and turns to me. “What now, hotshot?”

I glare at Daryl, the fire of frustration rising again. “The date is on Valentine’s Day. Christ almighty.”

“You two are here early,” Waylon’s deep voice says from behind us, and it’s a good thing because I’m closer than ever to taking Daryl outside to settle what he’s done.

Daryl and I grab our beers and stand.

“Finished the inspections early,” Daryl says.

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