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My brows narrow. “So, you think there are people out there who shouldn’t fall in love?”
“Yes.” Her head nods curt and quick. “And here you are, playing matchmaker. Dangerous game, Annie Archer.” She stands and brushes her hands together. “Now, eat your pancakes.”
It takes another week to weed through the women who filled out my Google form. Owen has attracted every single, straight female creature in a twenty-mile parameter.
“What about this one? She seems nice.” Meredith points to her laptop screen, and I lean over from Owen’s round tabletop to see what she’s looking at.
It’s an applicant I’ve already ruled out.
Coco reaches from the other side and peers at her screen as well. “I thought you put an age limit on this, Annie.”
“I did. That didn’t stop a few ladies from fudging the numbers. See—” I point, tapping the screen where she’s typed in her age, twenty-two. “You have to look over everything, Mer. Some of these ladies will do anything to go out with someone like Owen. See the photo?”
Each application has a series of questions and a place to upload a photo.
Meredith’s brows cinch. “Why lie about your age and then upload an actual picture?” She stares where I’ve scrolled for her. The woman is, at the very least, sixty.
I shake my head. “Owen,” I call to my friend in the kitchen, “you are so lucky you have us!”
Coco coughs out a laugh. “Yep. Lucky.”
11
Owen
Operation Set-Owen-Up-On-A-Date-He-Doesn’t-Want is in full swing.
“Hey.” My sister nudges me hip to hip.
I turn away from the counter to see Coco and her wrinkled brow staring at me like a fragile vase tipping on the edge of a drop-off. That is not the same face she just had on for Annie. Clearly, Coco has missed her calling. She should be acting.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, and it’s mostly true.
“Is all this dating stuff driving you crazy?”
I shrug. I don’t exactly love it, but if it helps Annie. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” She dips her head and whispers, “You’re fine letting the love of your life set you up and coach you on dating?”
See—the brothers never really talk about mythingfor Annie. We all avoid it until I have a meltdown, and then Levi gives me a giant scolding. It’s routine. It’s customary. Why mess with a really crappy awful thing?
“Yes,” I say, my tone low, though my words aren’t incriminating me. I dip my head and peek at the open doorway into theliving room. But Annie isn’t rushing in to accuse me of being in love with her all these years.
“You are not fine!” Coco hisses, then she flicks me on the shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I lie—again. “Maybe I’ll meet someone nice.”
“Owen—” Coco groans, but she’s interrupted by a squeal from the front room.
My sister’s mouth freezes in its half grimace, and I pause mid snack assembly.
“I’ve got her!” Annie yelps. She hurries into the room, sliding across the old, worn linoleum in her cotton socks.
Oh, boy.She is way too excited.
As if Coco has forgotten why we’re here, she says, “Who?”
