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“I need a matchmaker.”
What’s this now?
My brow furrows out of confusion. “How does this concern me.”
“You. I need you as my matchmaker.”
My face resumes it’s normal expression as I relax back into the tub. “I’m sorry to say this Decker, but you’ve got the wrong gal. I’m not a matchmaker.”
Don’t know what gave him that idea.
“What is your job then?”
“My job is social media marketing?” Why am I asking it like it’s a question.
I clear my throat. “I’m in social media marketing.”
There.
Firm.
Assured.
“Maybe you’re a matchmaker and you don’t even realize it—some people have gifts and they don’t tap into their fullest potential.”
I snort. “Not me. I’m good with graphics and creatives but not people.”
That’s probably not true—I am good with people. I just have no desire to schlepp around some guy and find him a mate based on zero information. Not that I would if I had information but…
“Why not just hire a professional? Or go on dating apps?”
“I have no desire to put my face on an app where thousands of random woman can see it. What if I work with some of them? What if I bump into one in the break room?”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” I muse into my empty glass. “Then you would know who was single in your office and who wasn’t. The app literally shows you the distance between singles, it’s kind of great.”
I’ve done dating apps a time or two myself and I’m familiar with how they work.
“I don’t want to date someone in my office and I don’t want anyone in my office knowing I’m on a dating app. I work long hours, I don’t mix business with pleasure. I’m private.”
“Then how do you expect to meet anyone?”
“That’s why I called you.”
“Well.” I wave my hand through the bathwater. “I’m not a matchmaker, so….”
“I’ll pay you.”
Duh, obviously he’d be paying me if I let him hire me.
But I’m not for hire.
Plus, he probably has no idea how much professional matchmakers actually cost, which can be thousands. Or more.
“I appreciate that, Decker, but I’m not for hire.”
“Palmer said you needed the money.”
Wow. Okay.
