“Hello?” I rolled over and grabbed my phone when it rang, but I wasn’t fully awake.
“Hi, is this Cain Stevenson? This is Grace Graham fromWhat the Heart Wants.” The voice on the other end of the phone was cheerful.
Who the fuck is that? Oh god, it’s some kind of fucking solicitor.
“I’m not interested and please take me off your list.” I sat up and rubbed my eyes.
“Mr. Stevenson, I’m calling about the profile you set up on my matchmaking app.” The cheer in her voice was unaffected by my response. “I was wondering if you could come by the agency today and sit down with me.”
“Wait…” I grunted and kept rubbing my eyes. “Matchmaking app?”
Matchmaking app. You’ve got to be shitting me. That profile Abby set up for me?
“Yes sir.” She continued talking while I tried to figure out how to get her off the phone without being rude. “I just met with a young woman a few minutes ago that I believe would be perfect for you, but I need to ask a few follow-up questions.”
Oh god.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Graham.” I exhaled sharply. “But—”
“Call me Grace.” She quickly replied before I could continue.
“Grace, my niece set up that profile last night. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m going to have her delete it as soon as she gets home.” I shook my head back and forth, even though the person on the other end of the phone couldn’t see me. “I apologize if I’ve inconvenienced you in any way.”
That’s as polite as I can put it.
“I see.” She sighed. “Well, that’s troubling.”
“If you want me to delete it myself, I’ll see if I can figure it out. One minute.” I threw the covers off and started walking down the hallway in my boxers.
“No, I mean—is the information correct?” She sounded a bit perplexed.
“Hold on.” I grabbed the tablet off the counter and sat down in the living room. “I’m sure she just made up a bunch of stuff about me. She’s ten, so—her heart is in the right place.”
I quickly scrolled through the dating website profile, looking for the delete button. I didn’t see one, but it gave me a moment to read through the information. I choked up and almost dropped the tablet when I saw all of the nice things, she had written about me. Apparently, I was a nice man who just needed a girlfriend—someone that would treat me right and make sure I wanted to come home every night after fighting fires all day. She described me as handsome, funny, witty, and incredibly generous. I would have been pretty damn cocky if I wrote all that stuff about myself, but it was kind of cute from her perspective.
“Are you still there, Mr. Stevenson?” The voice reminded me that I was still on the phone with someone.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” I clicked on the profile a couple of times. “I can’t find the delete button. I’m sure she knows where it is. She’ll be home this afternoon.”
“But, is everything correct?” She repeated her previous question.
“I mean—I guess.” I shrugged and scrolled through the profile. “I probably wouldn’t have described myself like this, but—yeah, I mean—she’s not wrong I suppose.”
Not that I’ve dated anyone recently to know if they’d describe me the same way my ten year old niece did.
“Why don’t you come down to the agency and sit down with me? You have nothing to lose, right? I really do think the young woman I met would be a good match because I think a man like you is exactly whatsheneeds.” Her cheerful tone returned.
“Can I think about it?” I put the tablet down on the table in front of me.
“Sure, why don’t I schedule something for tomorrow—nine o’clock sound good?” I could practically hear the smile in her voice.
“I said I’d think about it…” I grumbled under my breath.
“Nine it is then. See you tomorrow!” The line went dead immediately.
Well she’s almost as pushy as Abby is. Okay, I’m going back to bed.
I walked back to the bedroom and stretched out in my bed. I should have known sleep would be impossible. It’s why I wasn’t able to just nap at the fire station like a lot of the other guys did. Once I woke up—I was up. It didn’t matter if I had only slept a few hours, my internal clock just decided that it was time to get up. I would have to push myself to the point of exhaustion before I could sleep again. That was left over from my training as a SEAL. We had to grab sleep when we could and be ready to go at the drop of a hat. If we got two hours of sleep and had to work twelve, that was just the way it went—duty came first. My body adjusted to that sleep schedule and hadn’t reset itself when I returned to civilian duty.
