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“And?”
“And I was riled up, so I stopped to get a coffee, deciding to get enough for Eva since the line was long. But she didn’t want the coffee, and then she got all huffy because I said I could have done the questionnaire on my own.”
Chris shook his head. “Man, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to get Eva to kill you?”
“She was asking me about my parents’ relationship. What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s about how you view relationships. Your expectations about marriage and your partner’s role. You know, the little things in a relationship.”
Chris was divorced, so his hope in relationships and happily ever after were a shock to me. “That’s crap, and you know it. It’s a way to screw with people’s heads, make ’em feel like they need you.”
Chris let out an exasperated sigh and looked at me. “My ex, she expected me to take care of everything. Not just make money, but all the things around the house with the staff, Lila’s babysitter, everything.” He shook his head at the memory. “Daddy took care of Mommy perfectly in every way,” he said in a mocking feminine tone. “Heard that enough times that I wanted to scream. Her expectations, unrealistic as they were, came from her parents.”
Okay, so maybe he had some insight that I lacked. “So, what do I do?”
“Easy. You want to win the bet, then you have to take this all seriously. Give it, as they say, the old college try.”
“You’re right.” The goal wasn’t to get Eva to like me or for me to actually fall in love with a woman—something that was as unlikely to happen as an asteroid hitting Earth—but to win the damn bet. “If I want to win, I have to take it all seriously. Prove that it’s a sham by going through the whole charade.”
Chris snorted. “Not exactly what I was saying, but close. Are you really so opposed to falling in love?”
I shook my head. “Not opposed, I just don’t believe in love. It’s a series of chemical reactions and being used to someone. That’s it.” It always amazed me how people could combine sexual compatibility and familiarity to come up with happily ever after.
He let out a deep chuckle that should have been a warning, and shook his head. “And what will you do if you find a woman too compelling to ignore?”
“What I always do. I’ll date her until one of us is bored and moves on.” It was inevitable, and the people who fooled themselves into thinking otherwise usually ended up miserable. And married.
“This is going to be fun. Did you finish the questionnaire?”
“Hell no. How should I know where my ideal honeymoon spot is when I’ve never even thought about my imaginary honeymoon?” The questions made no sense. “There are no important questions on here, like favorite bands and best movie of all time, favorite sexual position and the perfect time for a breakup. Just questions about whether or not I grew up affluent or poor, how much education I have, and my view on children. Bullshit questions.”
“Not for people looking for a life partner.”
“Yeah.” Chris was right. I had to try. For real.Eva“You look hot today,” Olive said before I even had time to take off my jacket. “Any reason why?”
I heard the smile in her voice and I chose to ignore it. “Thanks. I got it on the clearance rack, and it has pockets!” The magenta dress wasn’t something I’d normally wear, even though bold colors worked well with my olive skin, but the markdown had made it an irresistible experiment. “You don’t think it’s too bright?”
“Nope. And I think Oliver March won’t be able to keep his tongue in his mouth.”
I glared at Olive, which only made her laugh harder. “As if I’d ever do anything to please that man!” I snapped my eyes closed, hard, at the image of him shirtless and smiling down at me with that Cheshire cat grin of his. “You know what I mean. I always look good.” My aunt Elizabeth was the fashionista in the family, and summer visits to Tulip always featured at least one shopping and fashion lesson.
“That’s true, but today you don’t look good. You look hot. Soph, you have a minute?”
I let out a low growl and rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Olive? Remember this.”
She shrugged and stepped inside a moment before Sophie arrived. “What’s up? Why do you look so hot today?”
“Ah-ha! Told ya,” Olive said, a satisfied smile on her face.
“Don’t gloat, it’s not attractive.”
In response, Olive stuck her tongue out at me.
“Real mature. The meeting went fine, thanks for asking. Our first mixer officially has a venue.” After taking care of a few emergency issues during the morning, I’d spent most of the afternoon visiting bars and restaurants that could accommodate our needs.
