Page 52 of Matchmaking the Rival

What's wrong with my voice? Why is it so high-pitched?

“That drink smells weird,” he commented.

"It's a pumpkin spice latte," I said defensively.

"Explains the smell."

"Have you ever tasted one?"

"No."

"Want to try?"

"No."

"Then don't diss something you haven't tried. If I could just findpastéis de natain this city, I'd be happy.”

“What’s that?”

“Portuguese custard tarts. I had them when I went to a convention in Lisbon. They are delicious.” Cade had this weird look on his face. “Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

“You like pumpkin drinks. I reserve judgment.”

“Hmm...”

“Excited about tonight?” he asked as the car lurched forward.

"Yes. I've tried to make a list of the possible places you might have in mind. I’m sure I have it wrong, so what is it?"

"I'll give you a hint. Boston University."

"I need a bit more."

"We're going up on the roof."

"We're taking a night tour of the university?" I guessed.

"No. It's a specific department." He hesitated, then said, "Astronomy.”

“Oh, we're going stargazing?" My grin was huge.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t believe it.” I frowned because I remembered one minor detail. "But today's Monday.”

"I know."

I didn't want to rain on his parade—clearly he'd gone to some lengths to make this happen—but I knew for a fact that open nights for viewing were only on Wednesdays. I’d checked several times myself over the years.

"I don't think they're open today," I said.

"They are for us."

"What do you mean?"

"I booked us a private tour. A stargazing evening."

"That's possible?"

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