“Despite my father’s objections about my career, outside of this month on probation, I’m a very busy man.”
“Too busy for long walks on the beach? Look at this profile. Allie loves the outdoors, adventures abroad, and...hates football.” I tilt my head, wondering how carefully they screened these people.
Chase scrunches up his face like this conversation is worse than cat dander. “Why does Rhiannon hate me?”
The name comes at me slowly, letter by letter. “Who?”
“My sister. Rhiannon. She was a successful dating coach and that landed her a spot making dating shows likeHen Houseand nowCrush or Cupid.”
“Your sister is Rhiannon?”
‘Don’t tell me you’re a fan of that trash.”
My pulse rushes in my ears as fast as this plane hurtling through the sky and my stomach drops like we hit turbulence. “Actually, I am a fan and Rhiannon is my dating coach.” My voice wavers, wishing it weren’t so.
“Why do you have a dating coach?”
“Because—so I could—I need to—never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
Chase scrubs his hand down his face. “Don’t you think it’s a conflict of interest for my life coach to have a dating coach who is also my sister?”
I open and close my mouth because, yes, I do think so. “It would be rude to turn all of these women down and we both know being rude is against the rules.”
“What if I start making up the rules?” Chase snaps his fingers. “There’s only one rule. Let’s forget about all this and begin again.”
“I can’t—” I can’t forget about him or be fooled again. I can’t jeopardize my job.
“For the record, I’m not marrying Marlow or anyone on that list.”
This would be the signal for him to storm off like he did at the restaurant, but even though he has the aisle seat, he couldn’t go far.
I swipe to the next candidate because I have to do my job. “Moving on.”
Chase turns to face me. “I’m not sure I can move on. Why are you doing this? Why are you encouraging my sister?”
“Because I want you to be happy.”
“I was happy, Pippa.”
“Then you had to trick me.”
“If you’re talking about the sponge cake, I thought we were good. If it’s #BruiserButt, I learned my lesson.”
“I’m talking about how you didn’t mention the reason you have to get married is because of your grandfather’s will and the inheritance. Not that it’s any of my business.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. First of all, I don’t have to get married. I don’t have to do anything. I don’t need the money. My father is—” He shakes his head. “And when would I have told you? When we were on the rides with the kids? Had the moment with the cotton candy? Outside your door? Nothing like putting the moves on a girl you like and then saying ‘Oh, by the way...’” Chase thrusts his head against the back of the seat and squeezes his eyes shut.
“So, it was a moment with the cotton candy?”
Without opening his eyes, he says, “Of course it was a moment. Could’ve beenthemoment.”
His confirmation has the potential to shatter me into a million little shards of glass because I keep coming so close to having what I want and who I want, but something puts me back in my place—my career, Marlow, the show.
“Chase, I want to marry for love and have a true happily ever after. Not have Lady Libby the Love Liasson play matchmaker.” I don’t add that I’m also not interested in getting married tosomeone who only wants to fatten their bank account. Too far. Too harsh. Even for me, known for speaking my mind.
“Then we agree.”
“And you’ll find the perfect someone on your sister’s show. You already signed the contract.”
