He nods toward my Holly Jolly Martini, smirking. “To try that.”
Well, that’s easy enough. I slide the glass toward him, hoping it works as the icebreaker he seems to need. “Enjoy,” I say.
Rowan raises it to his lips, and for a split second, his skeptical expression vanishes, his green eyes flickering with something close to surprise. No, that’s real delight in his irises as he takes a drink.
His sweet tooth is something else, and I can use this intel as I plan outings for him with different women—Christmas cookie decorating, eggnog tasting, candy cane making. I write this down, saying, “A man who likes sweet things.”
“You’ve figured me out, Isla,” he says dryly, but then his expression shifts. His gaze turns serious. “But before we dive into thisdating adventure,otherwise known as a high-stakes game of emotional roulette, there’s something I need to say.”
I haven’t heard that tone from him before—like something’s vitally important. I lock my focus on him, especially since he’s letting details slip about the state of his heart—terribly damaged. That’s good to know, even if it’s sad to hear. “Go on.”
He blows out a breath, then says, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. The pointless comment about your business. Itried to apologize after the Case of the Candy Cane Punch Poisoning, but I did a bad job of it.”
Actually, I did kind of walk away from him when he tried. I should say I’m sorry too. “I didn’t give you a chance. I stormed off,” I admit.
His lips curve up. “That was a storming off?”
“I suppose that’s an exaggeration. But I still want to take responsibility,” I say.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says, his tone stern again. A little bossy. A slight chill runs down my spine. But…a good chill, perhaps?
“And you truly don’t either. I’m hearing you loud and clear that romance isn’t your favorite thing,” I say, since I’m hoping it’ll help us work together if he feels understood. “But I appreciate your apology nonetheless.”
He gives a crisp but grateful nod.
Then, it’s my turn to smirk. “Though honestly, the best apology will come when you saythat wasn’t pointless at all, Isla! I’ve met the woman of my dreams. Thank you.”
The eye roll. Dear god, the eye roll from him could win an award. “Don’t count on it,” he says.
“It’s going to be so fun,” I add.
“It won’t happen,” he says, standing his ground.
I straighten my shoulders. “It will. I pride myself on having a very successful client list, and they’re extremely satisfied with my matchmaking. And you will be too.”
He snort-scoffs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“I have faith enough for the both of us,” I say, but I clearly need to prove myself to him. And if there’s one thing athletes respond to, it’s a little healthy competition. Feeling bold, I say, “So much I’d be willing to bet on it.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re betting now, are we?”
“Yes. Are you afraid to take me on?”
Rowan crosses his arms, leaning back with a challenging gleam in his eye. “Not afraid, just wondering what’s in it for me when you lose.”
Pausing to collect my thoughts, I grab my martini, taking a confident sip. Because Iamconfident I’ll find love and connection for him, no matter how challenging it is. Setting the glass down with a delicate clink, I turn the question around. “When I win—and I will—you’ll come to a big matchmaking showcase at the end of the yearandthank me for introducing you to the woman of your dreams.Publicly.”
He barks out a laugh, the sound sharp but not unkind. “Dream woman? And I’ve got a unicorn coming for you on Christmas. Fits down the chimney and everything.”
“Spoiler alert: I love unicorns.”
“I’m shocked.”
I exhale loudly. This guy thinks he can twist me up, but I’m not the city’s hotshot new matchmaker for nothing. My track record is excellent because I don’t just bet on love—I believe in it deeply, in spite of my own heartache. Rowan may think love is a mirage, but I intend to show him it’s the real thing. “Do you accept my stakes?”
“Sure, because I won’t lose.” He sounds amused, like he’s having a damn good time with me tonight. That seems like a positive start for a business relationship. The more fun we have together, the more open-minded he’ll be on dates during the next few weeks. “But if you lose…”
He doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, he reaches for my drink, turning it a notch, then another. Wait—is that deliberate? He’s lifting it and drinking right from the spot with my lipstick mark. It shouldn’t affect me, but suddenly, I’m more interested in that glass than the bet.
