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I was seriously close to tears, but bit that shit back. If Helen cried, there was a chance my rose-covered caftan would be destroyed. “I heard there’s a fifty-percent-off sale at Macys…”
“I’m in,” Helen screamed.
It was so damned good to have buddies.
In the end, I didn’t wear the rose caftan. I wanted to save it for something special. Pretending to want to go on potential dates wasn’t special. Instead, I’d worn one of my everyday caftans—a bright green creation with thin sparkling blue stripes running through it and a smattering of blue crystals at the neckline.
Confusion didn’t begin to cover how I felt. I stared at the photos that Kurt had compiled and pressed my lips together so I didn’t scream. Was he really a matchmaker? If he was, he sucked. Maybe pairing Zorro and Rupert had been a lucky fluke.
I pressed the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes.
The ride over with Dracula Smith had been an adventure I wasn’t sure I wanted to repeat. The vampire only had one arm and one leg when he picked me up. Shockingly, he was beside himself with joy. Triple D did take him back, but she’d also removed his left arm and right leg. Of course, it would grow back, but it felt a little iffy to have a driver missing a few of his extremities.
He’d been sure that his love-rod had survived the attack because of the spell I’d cast. After the violent smackdown where Triple D let him know what was what, the makeup sex had apparently been wild. That was TMI, but Dracula was extra verbose today. Triple D sent her heartfelt thanks for the caftan and for enchanting Dracula’s wanker—her words, not mine.
Basically, it had been a terrifying trip with a one-armed, one-legged vampire and it hadn’t gotten much better since I’d arrived.
“Do you see anyone who appeals?” Kurt inquired.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. It didn’t help that Kurt was dressed in jeans that hugged his excellent ass and a blue Henley that perfectly matched his eyes. I’d almost salivated when I’d entered the office. I wasn’t salivating now. Thankfully, Cha-Cha was out getting her hair done and Jeeves had already gone home for the day. That was good. There was only so much pretending I could do and not get busted. I wasn’t all that adept at lying.
“How about Dale?” Kurt asked.
I would swear on my Jimmy Choo boots that the man was enjoying himself. It looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“He’s a cross-eyed werewolf who didn’t make it past fifth grade and enjoys NASCAR,” I muttered, pushing the picture back to Voila the Immortal Match Guy who had either been drunk or high when he’d chosen my potential dates.
“You aren’t attracted to werewolves?” he asked, sounding perplexed.
I squinted at him. “Not a fan of NASCAR or not having an elementary school diploma.”
“So crossed eyes are fine?” he pressed.
Was he fucking serious? “Well, umm…” I stuttered. “I suppose if he was a lovely person who didn’t like NASCAR and could read, I might consider it.”
“Good to know,” he said, showing me another picture. “What about Duke?”
It was incredibly difficult not to laugh. The merman in the photo had a mug covered in tattoos of tiny fish. He was baring his fangs and displaying his muscles. He did have nice pecs, but that was about all he had going for him.
“I’d prefer someone who doesn’t ingest their paramours. And I’m not a fan of facial ink—especially little fishies,” I replied as diplomatically as I could. I glanced around the room for cameras. I was sure I was being punked.
No cameras, but the photo of Kurt and his man was front and center on his desk. I needed to get out of here. This entire situation was a farce.
“I have one more for this session,” Kurt said with what I could only describe as a smirk.
“Please, do tell,” I said with the smallest of eye rolls. And if he thought I was coming back for another session like this one, he was batshit nuts.
“Lastly we have Herman,” he told me, holding up a picture of a vampire who had a unibrow and no teeth.
I stared at the photo in shock and wondered how the poor man ate. Vamps needed fangs. This was a nightmare.
“He has dentures,” Kurt quickly added. “He just wants to be truthful in his profile picture.”
“I see,” I said, standing up. I was so done. “This has been eye-opening, but I can do far better on my own, Voila the Immortal Match Guy. If this is payback, you suck. If this is real, you still suck. Thanks for your time and have a great life. Please have Cha-Cha send the bill.”
As I turned to march out of the room, Kurt jumped up and put his hand on my back. My body reacted, and I tingled from my bald head all the way to my toes. Quickly pulling a blueberry wine cooler out of my pocket, I downed it. “Please remove your hand, Kurt.”
“I’m sorry, Johnson. I’m an asshole,” he said, gently turning me around to face him. “Do you happen to have an extra?”
