Page 15 of Fools in Love

“Soooo,” he repeated, dragging out the word in an irritated tone.

“Why do you do that?” I snarled, folding my arms across my chest, and I watched his eyes follow the movement.

“Do what?”

“Act like you hate me.”

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes before opening them again, a long breath leaving his chest. “I don’t hate you. It’s just”—he paused before continuing—“this whole situation makes me uncomfortable.”

It felt like the first honest thing he’d said to me since we’d met.

“So, your defense mechanism is to be a dick?”

He let out a slight laugh that almost made me smile in response. “I guess. I’ve never realized it, but, yeah, I probably do act like that.”

“Trust me, you do,” I said, my tone light instead of accusatory.

He angled his body toward me, his arms bearing the weight as he leaned into them. “Why do you think your girl Sheila is pushing this so hard?”

That truly was the million-dollar question. The one thing I hadn’t been able to figure out.

“I honestly don’t know,” I said before blowing out a loud sigh that caused him to give me a questioning look.

“I feel like you might know something.” He suddenly looked interested, like I might be hiding information that he needed.

I shook my head. “No, it’s just that, sometimes, she sees things.”

“Sees things?” he asked. “Like a psychic? What do you mean? Elaborate, please.”

Oh, he said please. That’s a first.

“She just sees things that other people can’t.” As soon as I said the words, I realized how cuckoo I sounded. Like maybe I was talking about her being a psychic or having some other kind of New Age abilities.

“Like what?”

He was getting the wrong impression.

“You know what she used to do for a living, right? What I do for work?”

His eyes pulled together, causing little creases to form in his skin. “Actually, no. I have no idea.”

How could he not know this?

“Really? You don’t know anything? Your fire captain didn’t tell you? You know they’re dating, right?”

He shifted on the bed, sitting up straight, his hands resting in his lap. “I don’t know anything. No one has told me shit. So, if you’d care to fill me in, that’d be great.”

I put my hands in the air. “Don’t get mad.” I tried to sound reasonable and calming. I liked the version of him that wasn’t pissed off twenty-four/seven much better than the constantly bitter one.

“Sorry,” he said, and I felt like he actually meant it.

“Anyway, Sheila was my mentor. She owned the business before she sold it to me. I’m a matchmaker.”

A loud laugh escaped him, followed by another, echoing in the space between us, and before I knew it, he was cracking up. “You’re joking, right?”

My hackles started to rise as I felt myself getting defensive. It seemed like he was laughingatme. “Why would I be joking?”

Once he calmed down and could actually talk without chuckling, he managed to say, “I guess I didn’t realize that those places still existed. Like real-life matchmakers? Setting people up on dates and stuff?”

---