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Maybe she’s right and I’m trying to ignite an old flame. It sparked to life in me, and I thought it was heating up in her, too. The way she was standing so close to me… that had to mean something.She wants me.
Even if she does want me, though, she might be ignoring what she feels.
Overriding it.
Gemma’s always been good at that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her lift her chin. She rattles off some stuff about the software her company uses, and then says, “Out of the four women your profile was compatible with, your best match was an 85 percent. That’s great, by the way. Me and Mortimer are 93, but that’s practically unheard of. Anyway, she lives in Northern New Hampshire, an hour and ten minutes from here. Her name’s Heidi.”
“Heidi. Okay…”Is this happening? Is this really happening?
Gemma is the only woman I’ve ever tried to kiss who refused me and turned around to try to set me up with someone else.
She’s really not going to drop this.
“Let’s see…” she goes on. “She’s 31, and she works at a micro flower farm. How cute is that! I mean, I don’t understand if it’s micro because the farm is small, or the flowers are tiny, or what, but it’s still charming. She works with her hands… see?” She reaches out and hits my arm lightly. “That’s perfect for you.”
“Why is it perfect that she works with her hands?”
“Because, you’re a physical guy. You’re… you know, kinetic. Look, I don’t know exactly how the Right Match process works, I just know that it does. The software says you two are compatible, so I think you should go out on at least one date with her and see for yourself.”
There go the computer keys again.What’s she up to, now?“Tell me you’re not pulling up a second profile.”
“No, no. We’ll handle these one at a time. I’m making a note to myself to find a spot somewhere between here and her town in New Hampshire. A restaurant, midway between you guys. For your first date. How does tomorrow sound?”
“I’m not—”
“AndI’mnot taking no for an answer.”
“When did you become so bossy?”
“I’ve always been bossy.”
She’s right. She has. I thought it was funny when we were kids, then, in my late teens and early twenties, I thought it was hot.
Right now, I find it irksome.
Because she’s bossing me straight into a date with a woman I’ve never even met. Heidi, the flower farmer. When all I want to do is pull this truck over, lean over the console, and kiss Gemma.
“Please, Parker,” she begs. “I came all the way up here to Vermont even though I am super, crazy busy back home. Your dad really wants this for you, and I think you should trust him. He’s your father. This is important to him… and it’s important to me, too.”
“I don’t get why you agreed to help him in the first place. Is he paying you or something?”
She sighs, closes her computer, and stuffs it in the bag at her feet. “Sort of.”
“Truth, Gemma. Just say it how it is.”
“Okay, he says he’ll invest in my company if the process works on you. He’s trying to be helpful. It could be a big deal, if he invests. We’re at the brink of really big success, but we need a boost in funding to get there.”
I hang a left onto Main Street. Most of the places are shut down, but the neon lights in the shape of a crooked mug of beer up on top of the Tipsy Tavern glow against the night sky. I note a bunch of cars in the lot as we pass.
“Please, Parker,” Gemma pleads again.
When I look over, she has her hands pressed together as though she’s praying. “For me,” she adds, while searching my eyes.
I want to say no.
I really want to say no.
