Page 25 of Howling Mad
“I know.”She flashes a brilliant smile.“Which is exactly why I created this service for shifters who didn’t fit perfect molds, who needed a safe space to find genuine connection without judgment.For the wolves who prefer stock portfolios to hunting parties, the rabbits who fight in MMA rings, and the red pandas who refuse to be calledadorableone more time.”
My throat tightens with unexpected emotion.“You’ve created something really special.”
“I have.”She nods, accepting this as a simple fact.“Which is why the wall of successful matches is my pride and joy.”
Our food arrives, and I take a bite of my sandwich to hide the sudden wave of guilt.Red notices anyway.
“Speaking of that wall...”She chews thoughtfully.“I was rearranging it this morning.There’s this empty space that appeared out of nowhere.Perfect for an eight-by-ten frame.Peculiar, isn’t it?”
I nearly choke on turkey.“Completely random, I’m sure.”
“Completely.”She winks and then glances around the restaurant before leaning closer.“Finley, you’re a wonderful matchmaker.You understand the loneliness of not fitting predetermined expectations, but sometimes...”She plucks a red panda figurine keychain from her purse, spinning it between her fingers.“Sometimes, the best match isn’t the one on paper.Sometimes, it’s the person you keep accidentally selecting terrible matches for because you’re secretly hoping they’ll come back to you.”
My mouth falls open.“You knew?”I cover my face with my hands.“I’m the worst employee ever.”
“Or the best.”She reaches across the table, gently pulling my hands away.“Because you found your own perfect match while trying to find his.That’s serendipity at its finest.”
“But the professional ethics…”
“Are important, yes.”She nods solemnly.“Which is why you should probably tell him about your feelings before sending him on another date with someone else.”
“I don’t know if I can.What if he doesn’t feel the same?”
“Oh, please.”Red rolls her eyes.“That man looks at you like you invented the moon for wolves to howl at.I’ve been matching shifters for eight years, and I know chemistry when I see it.Trust me on this.”
I pick at my chips, digesting her words along with my lunch.“I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”She triumphantly pops a pickle in her mouth.“Because he’s scheduled for a consultation at two, and I suddenly remembered an urgent red panda gathering I must attend.”
My head snaps up.“You’re leaving me alone with him?Today?Now?”
“Serendipity waits for no shifter.”She slides a credit card to the edge of the table with a wink as the waitress returns to drop off the bill.
Backattheoffice,I’m a nervous wreck.I’ve changed my blouse twice using the emergency outfits I keep in my desk drawer.I’ve brushed my teeth, applied lip gloss and then wiped it off because it seemed too obvious, and then reapplied it because my lips felt naked.I’ve organized and reorganized Michael’s file until the edges are soft from handling.
In my scattered state, I create the most ridiculous profile for his next potential match.Henrietta, a hippo shifter, who collects conspiracy theory memorabilia and believes the stock market is a mind control device invented by alien reptiles.I snap a photo of her profile with my phone, snickering at my own ridiculousness, and then realize with horror I’ve actually saved it to his file.
Before I can remove it, the bell above the door chimes.Michael walks in, and my heart performs an Olympic-qualifying gymnastics routine in my chest.He’s wearing charcoal slacks and a light blue button-down that makes his eyes look like summer storm clouds.His hair is slightly tousled, as if he’s been running his fingers through it, which is a nervous habit I’ve cataloged along with all his other endearing quirks.
“Hey.”He smiles, and I swear the temperature in the room rises five degrees.
“Hi,” I squeak and then clear my throat.“I mean, hello.”Professional greeting.“How are you?Weather, right?It exists.”
His eyebrows rise, amusement dancing in his eyes.“It does indeed exist.Very astute observation.”
“I excel at stating the obvious.”I gesture to the consultation room, nearly knocking over my “I HOWL AT MY OWN JOKES” mug that I’ve stopped hiding.“Shall we?”
Inside the room, I feel trapped in the best possible way.The space suddenly seems smaller than before, the air charged with unspoken tension.I fumble with his file, accidentally dropping the profile I created onto the table between us.
Michael picks it up, scanning it quickly.One eyebrow arches higher with each ridiculous detail he reads.“Henrietta sounds...fascinating.”
“She’s very passionate about her interests,” I manage, mortification washing over me.
“I can see that.”He flips the page.“‘Believes wolves are government drones designed to spy on innocent hippos.’That’s a new one.”
“She has unique perspectives.”
“And mud bathing.My favorite pastime.”His lips twitch.“Strange how you keep finding these wildly incompatible matches for me.Almost as if...”He trails off, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.
