Page 3 of Miss Matched

“Whatever you say, Kenz. But seriously, lady, you need an orgasm. Or five, or twenty. You look wildly on edge,” Sam says with a devious grin. “In fact, I could call Teabag Tom and order one for you if you’d like?”

“God no,” I laugh. “Besides, just because I’m not dating doesn’t mean there’s a shortage of orgasms.”

“Mechanical boyfriends don’t count.”

Racine nods in agreement.

“Says you,” I tell him. “But my vibrator is everything I need in a man: convenient, predictable, and uncomplicated.”

Sam rolls his eyes but lets it go. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I slept with a man. Three months? Six? I’m tired of sex so forgettable that I don’t even know how long it’s been. Not to mention trying to live up to their unrealistic expectations. I’m not the relationship kind of girl. Waiting on them hand and foot, sprinkling them in compliments? Not going to happen. No matter how much they think they can change me.

I know better. Between the foster homes growing up and my job matchmaking for the rich, I’ve seen every type of relationship on the spectrum. Good, bad, passionate, explosive. And I’ve learned one important thing: you can’t trust love, no matter how true it seems. People inevitably get tired of you, cheat on you, leave you, or die.

“Crap,” Racine says. Her eyes dart around the room as she straightens up. “Where’s Chad?”

I do a quick scan myself. “And Tina.” I note the missing blonde after a quick count of only nine women.

Sam starts to stand, but I wave him down and get up myself.

“I’ve got it this time. You go check in on the rest of them.” After Martin’s little show earlier, I’m done playing nice with these boys.

Making my way out of the hotel ballroom, I immediately spot a pair of bathrooms between me and the lobby.

Classy.

They always think they’re original, sneaking off to bang in a stall. Like I won’t figure out that they’ve disappeared or notice them trying to discreetly sneak back into the fold minutes apart from each other.

My suspicious are confirmed as my hand plants on the bathroom door.

“Yes, oh God!” It’s muffled, but there is no missing Tina’s moans.

I had hope for Ms. Innocent-Kansas-Girl Tina. That’s why I brought her here. She seemed sweet, with just enough of an edge to keep guys like Martin and Chad on their toes. But now, listening to her putting on a show for Chad with her fake orgasm, I realize I must have missed something in the initial screening process.

I tip my head toward the ceiling and let out a long breath, gathering myself one more time before stepping through the doors.

Chad has Tina pinned on the edge of a bathroom sink with his pants at his ankles. Her skirt is hitched up around her waist, with a breast popped out the top of her dress as he works it in his hand. Chad’s small ass clenches when he catches sight of me in the mirror, and he backs out of Tina so fast she almost falls to the floor.

“What the—” She cuts herself off when she realizes why he stopped. Her eyes go wide as her cheeks turn to tomatoes.

“Go home, Tina,” I say without looking in her direction. My eyes are locked on Chad, and I don’t give him the privacy of looking away as he fumbles with his slacks. If I have to stare at his unimpressive dick this soon after dinner, then he deserves to be uncomfortable.

Tina rushes past me, and all I feel is a whip of air from the bathroom door as it shuts behind her.

Chad finally secures his zipper and looks up with a painted-on grin. “Baby—”

I hold up one hand, stopping him.

Baby?

Maybe the guy has a death wish.

Unfortunately for Chad, it’s the end of a very long night. I am, as Sam so bluntly pointed out, suffering from a shortage of flesh-induced orgasms recently. And my business is teetering on the brink of going under.

So, pretty-boy smile or not, he is about to find out what happens when you piss off a short-tempered cupid with very pointy arrows.

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