Rachel nodded, impressed. “Insight is the first step to improvement,” she stated.
The man turned to her. His eyebrows furrowed in irritation, his gaze flickering over her once before he spit out, “What?”
“It’s nice that you’re reflecting on your behavior,” Rachel explained, casually smiling. “Few people can admit their weaknesses. And since Maddie isn’t here yet, maybe I can help you for a sec?”
Her little sister didn’t like being yelled at. Her obsession with harmony was world-record-breaking. Rachel’s job as a couples therapist, on the other hand, consisted of listening to people rant at each other. She had absolutely nothing against a few more decibels — and she regretted not having been there for her siblings over the past few years. So maybe today was the day she could start making amends.
“You know,” she continued, in a deliberately friendly tone, “I generally stay away from irrational screamers, but I’ll make a one-time exception for you.”
The man blinked. “Irrational scream…wow.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Who the hell are you?”
She held out her hand. “Rachel. Maddie’s sister.”
“Oh, fantastic.” He ignored her hand and tilted his head back with a groan. “There are two of you!”
“Three,” she corrected. And he didn't even know how lucky he was that Lucy wasn’t here. Lucy's patience with arrogant men was shorter than the stubble on her counterpart’s chiseled jaw.
“And the world is rejoicing,” he replied dryly. “But fine. If you want to help, maybe you can explain to me what this is.”
With that, he pulled the sign from under his arm and slammed it down on the desk in front of Hailey.
Curious, Rachel leaned forward and tilted her head. Someone had painted a wooden board white and then decorated it with hearts and red lettering:
If you let us match you, you’ll never have to see a divorce lawyer again. Match Me!
Below was an arrow pointing to the right, presumably toward the dating agency. Oh, Maddie was good!
She bit her lip to keep from laughing, and finally said, straining to look serious, “In my professional opinion, that’s a sign.”
“No shit!” the man growled, annoyed.
“Then why are you asking?”
“Calm down, Connor. You don’t own the sidewalk,” Hailey said with a shrug before smiling past him in her direction. “Hey, Rachel, good to see you. Weren’t you planning on arriving this evening?”
“I drove through the night.” She wasn’t getting much sleep these days anyway, and she had needed to get out. Out of Chicago. Out of her life. Just out. So she’d drunk three liters of Coke, taken a few naps at rest stops — and now she was here, fighting yet another battle. But this one was for her sister. And, strangely enough, fighting for her family was so much easier than dealing with her own demons. “So he’s the Connor Stone I've been hearing about?” She frowned and crossed her arms. Maddie had told her about him. He was the cynical lawyer next door who never missed an opportunity to mock her psychological questionnaire. God, his timing was bad. She really wasn’t in a good mood for lawyers right now. “I’ve heard about you.”
“Okay,” he replied sharply. “I’ll refrain from asking if you heard all good things because no one haseversaid all good things about me.”
“Ah, yes. And that never gave you anything to think about?”
“Why should it? I think it’s better that people don’t get the wrong impression,” he said, irritated. “The sign was right up against our window. That's going too far!”
“I don’t know why you’re so upset.” Rachel waved her hand dismissively — and decided it was no longer worth being polite. Politeness was completely wasted on the idiot! “It’s a nice sign. And true.”
“True?” The word sounded so skillfully contemptuous that he must have practiced it in front of the mirror. “It’struethat all the people you’ve set up stay together forever? And here I thought Maddie lived in a unicorn enclosure in Narnia. But you seem to have bought the castle-in-the-air right next door.”
She jutted her chin out. “My trained fairies claim we have good statistics.”
“Your so-calledbusinesshas only existed for two damn years!” he snapped. “Your statistics are worthless. And why have I never seen you here if you’re involved in this ridiculous business?”
Something bitter flooded her stomach. It was a mixture of familiar guilt and the oppressive fluttering tension she’d carried with her ever since she decided to move back here — and started questioning all her decisions. She hadn’t been here in years. She’d let her family down. She knew that. Another one of those decisions she wasn’t certain was the right one. But this idiot lawyer didn’t know her. He had no right to make her feel bad! Only she and her sisters did. Maybe her dad did too…but she didn’t want to dive into that hole right now.
“Maybe you’re just inattentive,” she said tightly.
He snorted. “Oh, no, I would have noticed you.” He narrowed his eyes, his gaze slowly sliding down her entire body, over her light blue blouse and black pencil skirt. She owned so many of these, she'd started calling her closet a "pencil case." Finally, his eyes landed on her bare legs and feet...which were clad in pink Crocs, partially smeared with goat manure. But going to the beach in high heels was just plain stupid, and she didn’t have any other shoes in the car since her cacti took up most of the trunk and back seat. The rest of her wardrobe wouldn’t arrive for a few weeks.
The man in the suit took his time raising his eyes again. It was as if, like her, he had a rule to gather as much information as possible before deciding what his first impression of a person was. Rachel guessed she fell squarely into the category ofcrazypeople with goat dung on their shoes.
