Page 10 of Banter & Blushes #1
LUNA
T he rest of the evening, and even the next morning, guilt eats at me and I feel dreadful after witnessing Cade’s bout of sneezing and his date’s reaction to it.
Poor man! And I’m the one to blame. If I hadn’t suggested to Althena that Gabrielle might want to wear an alluring perfume, none of this would have happened.
Althena knows about my knowledge of essential oils, so it was easy to drop the hint about musk and then let the matchmaker latch onto the suggestion and pass it along to her client.
On the other hand, Althena could have reviewed Cade’s personal information sheet closer and noted his allergy.
But honestly, I was counting on neither Althena nor her client checking that sheet.
Yep. That makes me even lower than pond scum.
I’m so conflicted over my feelings for Cade. He’s hired me to find him his perfect match, but what if I’m his perfect match? I now know what the saying “between a rock and a hard place” means.
As I sit in my tiny apartment above the shop, I try to enjoy my morning tea and one of Zoe’s apple fritters, but guilt lodges itself in my stomach.
At least when I’m in private, I can cheat with a sugary baked good every now and then.
My phone rings, I check the screen, and dread fills my heart.
I better face the music and get this over with. Reluctantly I swipe to answer the call.
“Hello Althena!” I reply, injecting as much positivity into my tone as possible.
“Have you heard from your client about last night’s date? ”
Oh no! Now’s the part where she chews me out.
“No, not yet.” I clamp my lips firmly shut so I don’t blurt out a confession as to my duplicity.
“Well!” she says, exhaling loudly. “It was a debacle from start to finish! Your client was allergic to Gabrielle’s perfume. The very perfume you hinted that she wear.”
Busted. What can I say to defend myself?
“Um—”
“We both missed it, didn’t we? Cade indicated on his personal profile that he was allergic, but we had already set up the date. That’s our bad! Next time I’ll read every line in the profile first!” A loud snort pierces my left ear.
Huh? She’s not livid with me? Relief makes me almost drop the phone. “Do we want to schedule them a do-over date?” I squeak.
She snorts. “Nope. That’s a dead horse. Gabrielle’s a germaphobe, so you can imagine her reaction to a few sneezes!”
In Gabrielle’s defense, there weren’t just a few sneezes. From my clandestine location in the restaurant, I observed an abundance of sneezes.
“I’m sorry about that. I thought we had a good match with those two,” I reply, infusing regret into my tone.
“No worries. I just matched Gabrielle with a doctor, and I have high hopes for success.” Althena laughs and I exhale the breath I’ve been holding, relieved that my friend isn’t angry at me and that her client has apparently moved on from the dating disaster.
Hopefully Cade isn’t too heartbroken after the incident.
I make a note to check in with him later.
“We might be able to recover from this minor setback. I think there’s an even better fit between Mr. Bainbridge and my client Caroline Davis. Look at her profile and match score I just sent you.”
“Let me check.” I slide my laptop towards this side of the table and wake up the screen, click on Althena’s email, and start reading. “This match does look promising with that 75 percent match score.”
“What did I tell you! Plus they both have a 100 percent match on spontaneity and communications style. Caroline also selected Hello Kitty as her choice of best friend, and her useless superpower is always finding a parking spot right in front of a business. She’s based in Jacksonville but spends a fair amount of time at her beach house right there in Seabreeze Harbor. ”
Wow. Sounds like a match made in heaven.
Reading Caroline’s bio, I say, “She’s a high-ranking executive in a tech company?”
“Yes. Caroline is very career-minded, just like your client. Shall we see if they’re both agreeable to a first date?”
“Sure. Are we going to schedule at the Golden Anchor again?”
Althena chuckles. “The scene of the crime? Why not! I’ll get back to you with the proposed day and time.”
“Please suggest that your client not wear any perfume. ”
An ear-splitting laugh floats down the line. “You bet! Later!”
This time I vow not to meddle in or stealthily observe this date.
Either Cade and Caroline hit it off, or they don’t.
I email Cade about the next potential match, then get ready to open the shop.
Living above the store, my commute takes only seconds.
I feel a little less guilty after the conversation with Althena, but I’m still dreading seeing Cade face-to-face. Maybe I’ll lay low for a few days.
“I’m not sure this matchmaking stuff is working for me,” Cade says as he strides into my shop a few hours later. His grim expression makes my heart sink. “Can we talk in private for a few minutes?”
The store is empty, so I don’t have any excuses to avoid this conversation. “Of course. Let’s sit at one of the café tables. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No thanks,” he says, marching over to one of the tables and sitting down.
Oh no! Is this the part where he chews me out?
I reluctantly follow him and slide into the chair on the other side of the table. Despite his crabby expression, my heart still flips at the sight of him. A lock of hair dangles onto his forehead, making him look like a sexy angry pirate, and my fingers itch to move it back in place.
“I take it your date with Gabrielle Moore didn’t go well?” I should probably come clean and admit to watching the whole debacle, but I don’t.
He grunts. “That’s an understatement. I couldn’t stand her nasally voice.
She’s uptight, so prim and proper it made me feel like an oaf.
And she wore a perfume that I had an allergic reaction to!
” The volume of his voice increases as the tirade comes tumbling out.
“The entire date was an unmitigated disaster.”
“I’m sorry, Cade.” I try to sound empathetic, but inside I’m doing a happy dance knowing that it wasn’t just the reaction to the musk that cratered the date. The guilt that’s been eating at my gut fades away. Cade and Gabrielle weren’t a good match. End of story.
His shoulders slump and he rests his chin in his hand. “If it wasn’t for my grandad’s ridiculous ultimatum, I wouldn’t even consider your matchmaking services.” He grimaces and waves his hand. “Forget I said that. I’m still grumpy from the botched date.”
I wondered why this good-looking guy resorted to using my matchmaking service, and now I know.
Although I wonder what exactly the ultimatum entails.
“No matter what your motivation, I hope you consider sticking with my service. According to NAM, almost 80 percent of first match dates don’t go well,” I assure him.
“However, on average, after at least two dates with three different matches, our matchmaking service has a 69 percent success rate. That’s far better than any dating service can claim. ”
He groans. “I’m not sure I can stand another excruciating first date.”
“I understand,” I say, reaching across the table to give his forearm a friendly squeeze.
His eyes widen when my hand makes contact and a zap of attraction zings between us.
I thought maybe these zaps would fade the longer he’s my client, but that was just as strong as when I touched his arm in my shop after he filled out the questionnaire.
Quickly removing my hand, I clear my throat and say, “I emailed you another potential match this morning, and her matchmaker is ready to schedule a date for you two. But I understand if you want to give up.”
He snorts. “I’ll try one more time, but please make sure this woman knows I’m allergic to certain fragrances.”
Suppressing a relieved smile, I nod vigorously. “I will. Please read the email and look over Caroline’s bio before committing. Let me know by later today if you want to proceed.”
He stares at me for a beat or two, as if he wants to say something else. But the moment passes and he stands. “Thank you, Luna. I’ll review the next candidate and get back to you.” He turns and walks out, and I watch him drive away.
Should I admit to my client that I think we’d be a perfect match? What kind of matchmaker does that? I need to sit tight and see how his next date goes, this time without any interference from me. Whatever will be, will be.