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I cringe internally thinking of Avery’s turtle rant on Instagram. She’d been healing from her injuries in the car accident last year, and her friends had come over with snacks. Some of which happened to be pot brownies. She ate all of them and went off about the lack of bendy straws in her life and how the turtles were responsible for her strife. It hadn’t been up for long, but the damage it did was enough.
“We’re very careful about what gets posted, and having to run everything we post through someone outside of Spark House isn’t conducive for easy social media management. I don’t think we can agree to that.” While I understand his concern, we don’t need someone coming in and telling us what we can and cannot post.
Jackson studies me for a moment, perhaps weighing how serious I am. He must realize that I’m being earnest because he gives a stiff nod. “Selene can be very particular about that kind of thing, but I’ll talk to her.” His expression softens and he rests his forearms on the picnic table, leaning in. “Now, I really need you to tell me about this hobbyhorse conference. I had no idea this was a thing, or that it incited such violence.”
The abrupt shift in topic throws me, and I stumble over my response. “Oh, uh, yes, well, I don’t think it usually is a violent sport. At least not that I’ve witnessed, apart from that one incident.” I tell him about the event, and the fight that broke out with the jousting hobbyhorsers, and how one of the men seemed interested in Avery.
“No offense meant to your sister, but I would hazard a guess that any woman who would give them a shred of attention was probably a viable dating option, no?”
The squirrels who have been busy doing their squirrel thing seem to have gotten wise to our picnic, and now they’ve started barking at us from the tree, sending petals from the blossoms floating down around us.
“They’re definitely a different breed, but they’re really great guys. Some of them are married with families who support their very unusual hobby. There are a few who would probably benefit from your dating app. Break into Love is very successful. One of the most well-reviewed dating apps out there with a very high level of match success.”
“Have you used it?” He picks the fallen petals off the charcuterie board.
Something in his tone makes my stomach flip, so I avoid answering directly. “Harley and I set our sister Avery up with a profile. Although that was before she and her best friend realized they were in love with each other.”
I have his undivided attention again. “Did she go on a date before she discovered that?”
I nod, thinking back to how adamant we’d been that she go on that date. It set in motion a series of events that none of us could have predicted. “She did. His name was Brock, and we nicknamed him Brock the Rock. It was probably one of her worst dates, but in defense of your app, she didn’t spend much time filling out the questions, which I believe impacted the results.”
He gives me a wry grin. “Are you trying to make me feel better about the fact that my app failed her?”
“Not at all. The app failed her because she was already in love with someone else and gave half-assed answers to all the questions. I’m pretty sure I still have it on my phone.” I pull it out of my bag and scroll through my apps. I log into Avery’s profile, having been the one to set the password. All three of us have access to it, but I think Avery deleted the app from her phone once she and Declan became a thing.
I show Jackson my sister’s profile; half of the initial questions are completed with one-word answers and “sports” seems to be her favorite response. “What about you? Have you used your own app?”
“I have actually. When I first created it.” He looks away, toward the mountains in the distance.
“And? What were your personal results?” I try not to sound too eager for that information.
“I travel a lot for work. It makes relationships very challenging.”
It’s a closed-off answer, and it makes me want to ask more questions. I find it interesting that the same man who developed an app meant to connect people, and a highly successful one at that, doesn’t use it.
“But you’re not opposed to relationships or dating. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked me out all those months ago,” I point out.
He smiles wryly. “No, I’m not opposed.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, considering my options, and decide to be bold for once. I like him and I like spending time with him. It’s my turn to put myself out there like he did last time. “Maybe next time you’re in Colorado, we could go out for dinner.”
