She’s all crisp and maybe a little embarrassed. Ah, hell, I don’t want her to feel bad. “Isla, your mask is cute.”
“It’s not,” she says.
“It is. I swear.”
She’s quiet.
“I can hear you rolling your eyes,” I add.
“But you can’t see them,” she says proudly, as the sound of water running patters on her end. Her camera now shows me a red towel with a white border and mistletoe embroidery in the corner. She has Christmas towels in her bathroom.
“Would it make you feel better if I put one on? A mask?”
“Do you even have one?”
“No. But there are these things called stores. I can have one delivered,” I say as the water grows louder.
A second later, she pops up, turns the camera around. “There.”
Her face is scrubbed clean. Like a skin-care ad. “You look dewy as fuck right now,” I say.
I swear she tries to fight off a smile as she asks, “Anyway, you were calling because…?”
Well, I do have a reason but now I’m curious. “Why didn’t you just turn off the video once you realized it was me?”
As she moves through her home again, she shoots me a sharp-eyed stare. “Do I look like someone who backs down?”
Fair point. “See item four in my text. You’re a formidable competitor.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why I hate to bring you this bad news.”
Her brow knits as she sinks down on her lavender linen couch, shifting a silver snowflake cushion to the side. “What bad news?”
Time to go for the kill.I blow out a long breath, like I’m so saddened by this development. “The thing is—we’ve got a new minor-league affiliate in Evergreen Falls. Which is three and a half hours from here.”
Her brow knits. With suspicion. Maybe concern. “I know. I’m from there.”
Right. Of course she knows how far away the town is. “And, we’re playing all our home games there from mid-December up until a couple of days before Christmas. So…” Another sigh, and damn, I deserve an Oscar for the way I’m Timothée Chalamet-ing this performance. “I guess we’ll need to throw in the towel on this whole matchmaking thing since I’ll only be around for…” I pause to make a show of looking at my watch, “two more weeks. We’ll need to be in Evergreen Falls by the fourteenth. And I guess that’s really only twelve days, since tomorrow is the second. Plus I’ve got practice during the day, plus some volunteer work, then a game Wednesday night. It’s crazy busy.” I frown. “I’m sorry, Isla.”
I add in a slump of my shoulders to sell it.
For a few seconds, Isla says nothing, just purses her lips. I can’t tell if disappointment passes in her eyes or not. But I can tell she’s doing matchmaker math in her head. This woman is nothing if not calculating. She shrugs and smiles. “No problem. I’ll just work faster. I’ll pick you up at one p.m. on Tuesday. Gives you time for your practice and volunteer work tomorrow. I chatted with Mia briefly today, and she mentioned she doesn’t get out of school tillthree-thirty. As long as you have no other plans, that time should work out fine for you. And after our final session, we’ll have you going on some dates in no time. So don’t even worry about the tight turnaround. Though, it’s sweet that you did.”
She checked with my daughter about my schedule? That must have been when Isla pulled Mia aside during Advent calendar negotiations. Talk about tenacious.
“Fine,” I grumble, beaten again. This is getting to be a habit.
And so’s the fact that I’m annoyingly looking forward to Tuesday’s get-to-know-you session.I remember how much it threw her off when I offhandedly teased her about wanting to date me. I have zero interest in dating, but I sure do like pushing her buttons. “See you on our date.”
Her expression goes stern. “Rowan. It’s not a date.”
“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck.”
It feels a little like I got the last word, but then she squares her shoulders and waves, a far-too pleased look in her eyes. “Sleep well in your black boxer briefs.”
Then, she’s gone, and after I work on the book Advent calendar, I strip down to, yes, my black boxer briefs.
