She posted the video on the radio feed—they were doing a weekly countdown of some kind in the studio on the live version. Of course, she added a cross connection to her personal channel.
The likes and shares started at a good pace. Not viral territory, but she wasn’t a slouch either and she was already getting votes. That was promising.
The more votes she got, the more likely she’d—well, along with Charlie and Agnes—move on to the next round of competition.
Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.
The light feeling in her chest felt like hope. Hope was good.
Perhaps, just perhaps, everything would turn out okay.
…
The pounding on the front door was way too early for Molly. Was it after seven? No. So then why was she awake?
She pulled on her robe and slogged down the stairs to the back door.
Agnes.
Molly tightened the robe around her middle and pulled open the door.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice still croaky from just waking up.
“We only have a minute.” Agnes moved through Molly’s house like she owned the place. Which, technically, she did. “Charlie doesn’t like to wait.”
“You’re walking with Charlie again?” Molly flicked on the coffee pot so at least if she was up she would have some of the early morning good stuff.
“I am.” Agnes did a little shimmy shake.
Who was this woman? And why was Molly having to figure it out early and without any caffeine in her bloodstream?
“And he doesn’t like to wait,” Agnes said, again.
“After one day, you are an expert in his likes and dislikes?” Molly drummed her fingers on the counter, willing the drip to move along faster.
“I’m not here to talk about me.” Agnes pointed to Molly’s laptop. “Have you checked your stats?”
“I’m barely awake.” Molly hadn’t even pulled her unruly hair back to get the door. She was still full Medusa.
Agnes slid the laptop toward Molly with the edge of her fingertip. “You need to check your stats and then we need to come up with a solution.”
“What’s wrong with my numbers?” They’d been fine the night before. Promising was definitely a term Molly would apply to the situation. She gave a longing glance to the still-dripping coffee pot. Certain things were clear, and one of those was that she’d have to wait for her coffee fix.
“You’ve got competition, sweetheart.” Agnes nudged the laptop closer.
Molly tossed her hands wide. “It’s literally a matchmakingcompetition.”
“No.” Agnes pierced Molly with a brown, icy stare. “You are the shoo-in. But you just got scooped by a guy named Peter McNamara.”
Molly trudged away from the coffee pot, sans liquid strength, and flipped open her laptop. She brought up the competition stats and…her heart sank. Sure enough, she’d been knocked into second place. Though, her showing was still impressive.
A few clicks and she brought up the other guy competing for first place. Peter McNamara.
Oh, he was cute.
“Peter McNamara here, with my husband Chris.” Also, super cute. Double trouble.
Molly slid her gaze to Agnes. They might as well pack up their lotto tickets now because they were not going to win this competition.
