I snort. “Yeah, one that includes free pussy from the first date.”
“At least there are plenty more guys out there…” I give her a nasty look, and she stops her words in their tracks. “Okay, okay. Too soon.”
“Way too soon. Look, Zoe, I don’t think this is going to work. I know people find true love from dating apps all the time, but I have shit luck at picking a man. And since you picked this last one for me… you’re not much better at it. I’m not even looking for true love… I’d be happy with not-a-bag-of-dicks.”
She plops down on the sofa and gives me a knowing look. “You can’t give up after a few bad dates. You need inspiration for your book.”
“What I don’t need is to have some one-night-stand with a douche bag just to get over my writer’s block.”
My best friend has the courtesy to at least wince and look a little ashamed. That’s precisely what she thinks I need. She’s determined that if I were to lose my virginity and experience sex firsthand that my block will fade, and the words will flow once again. Unfortunately for her, none of my dates have even come to the point of a goodnight kiss—aside from fish lips tonight, and I wouldn’t call that a goodnight kiss, more of a goodnight mauling.
I pull out a bottle of wine and pour two glasses. Zoe takes a grateful sip, and I swallow mine down like it’s a lifeline. She raises a brow at me and my uncharacteristically large gulp of alcohol. “Don’t judge me,” I whine.
“Not judging, babe. Maybe you should try a different app next time?”
I bang my head on the back of the sofa at the very idea of another date like the last several. I just can’t do it. App dating just isn’t for me.
“Oh! I know,” Zoe says, hopping up from the couch and rushing over to the table where I have a stack of newspapers. Yes, I know they are out of style, but I didn’t have the heart to cancel the subscription once my mother passed away. Reading the paper in the morning with her first cup of coffee was one of her favorite things. Zoe shuffles through the pages until she finds whatever she’s looking for and rushes back to my side, shoving the paper in my face.
The paper is opened to the Ask Rita column, where you can write in and ask for relationship advice. My mom used to read it religiously before she died several years ago. “I don’t think Ask Rita can help me,” I say, shaking my head and tossing the paper on the coffee table.
Zoe grabs up the paper again and pushes it back in my direction. “Not Ask Rita,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “the matchmaking service—Rita Matches.”
I study the paper a little closer and see the advertisement it’s a big red heart with the words ‘Looking for Love? Tired of dating apps? Let Rita find your perfect match. Moneyback guarantee,’ then it lists a website address.
“A matchmaker…” I say, trailing off as I consider the possibilities.
“It’s perfect!” Zoe says excitedly. “Let a professional do the work.”
“It has potential.”
Zoe squeals with excitement and grabs my laptop. Before I can stop her, she’s pulling up the Rita Matches website. “Oh look, you write letters to your match before meeting them. That’s perfect for you.”
She clicks around a bit. I read over her shoulder, liking the idea more and more as we read the testimonials from happily matched people. She clicks the link, and an application pops up on the screen. She gives me a questioning look, and I nod my agreement.
Might as well give it a shot. What have I got to lose?
CHAPTER
TWO
HARRISON
Vera knockson the door before sweeping inside my office in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. Her expensive heels are silent on the carpeted floor. I take a brief look over her, taking her in from top to bottom. She’s wearing a dress that’s too tight to be professional, not to mention the amount of cleavage and leg she has showing. I mentally shake my head at my own idiocy for dating the woman who has become nothing but a thorn in my side.
“Harrison,” she purrs, “I tried calling-”
“I was busy,” I say, cutting her off. “What do you need? I’ve got work to do.”
“Now don’t be so grumpy, baby.” She walks towards my desk, one finger running suggestively down her neck to the deep vee of her dress. “I know how to get you to relax.”
“Vera, you know that’s not going to happen,” I growl. This isn’t the first time since I broke it off that she’s attempted to rekindle things.
“We were so good together, Harrison. We could be good again.” She licks her lips and pushes her chest out, trying to get my attention.
I easily ignore her attempts to seduce me. I know what she’s really after. Vera is looking to attach her name to mine. She wants marriage and the power that would come from being a James. An instant rise in the company with two little words, ‘I do.’ Well, I definitely don’t.
“We weren’t even good when we were together. This,” I point my finger from me to her and back, “is never going to happen.”
