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“Exactly that.” She grins.
“I’ve met a handful of people, yeah. But work does keep me busy.” My thoughts flash to Layla and how she’s been an enjoyable disruption to my busy work schedule.
“Have you dated at all, or is this your first attempt?” Mina asks casually.
“I’ve dated a bit. Nothing serious.” And again, I think about Layla. Sexy secret flings aren’t at all serious, right?
“These match dates are always interesting because you never know where your date is coming from. Not everyone takes using a matchmaker seriously,” she says, but I don’t get the sense that she’s calling me out. Hell, she doesn’t know everyone’s concerns about my attitude toward taking Ruth’s help. I don’t bristle at her statement, as I think it’s just that. But now I’m curious.
“I take it this is not your first match-up date?” I lean forward in my chair.
With a sigh, she shares, “No, it’s my fourth. I’ll be honest. At first, I was just treating this whole thing like a dating service. I was hung up on a guy for a while, call it unrequited love, so I joined HEA, Inc. just to get over him.”
“Did you?” I ask. And right there I feel like shit that she’s wasting her real dates on me.
“I did. I realized that nothing was going to happen there, so I moved on. Which is for the best.”
I nod. I’m glad. There’s nothing worse than being hung up on someone who doesn’t see you the same way. And here I am on this date and thinking about Layla. All of this is wrong.
The conversation continues to flow and it’s never stale. None of that first date awkwardness. It almost feels like I’m connecting with a friend.
At the end of the night, I walk Mina to her car and for a split second, I almost kiss her cheek like I would with any other date. Except I can't bring myself to do it. Because of Layla. As I mosey to my own car, I realize that by all accounts, the date was nice. Ruth is truly damn good at her job as far as picking compatible matches.
We’ve got one problem, though. There was no spark. Attraction? Maybe. Sure. But even that pales in comparison to Layla. I guess it's hard to find a spark when you've already set off the whole damn grand finale.
Shit.
What the hell am I gonna do?
Chapter 11
DON’T PLAY COY
LAYLA
Submergedin working a match for a new client, I come up for air. My head bent as I flip through profiles on my tablet, I roll my neck in a half-circle, noticing the kink that now resides in my shoulders. I moved to the small table in my office a few hours ago, ready to find some potential matches for a young widow who just signed on to our services. Her story broke my heart. While I take my job seriously, I’m also emotionally invested in this client. My phone dings where it sits on the table next to my water bottle.
Cole:
I want to see you tonight.
I smile at my phone, thinking about how we’ve met up several times over the past few weeks. Ever since I gave in to my want for him at the speed dating event, I chose to stay an active participant in this fling we have, instead of spending my time worrying about the future.
I’m going to have to let him go sooner than later, but for now, I want to enjoy my time with him. Not to mention the sex is freaking amazing.
I shoot him back a text.
Me
oh yeah?
Then I lift my phone, make a “feeling cute” face, and take a quick selfie. I send it to him before thinking better of it. His response is immediate.
That’s some spank bank fodder right there.
gross. Send it back. You can’t have it anymore.
Nope, it’s mine now.
