It wasn’t that Matt didn’t trust her. He literally couldn’t pull it off.
Matt: Why is it so important?
Mia: Because you need time alone with her, so she sees you don’t hate her.
Matt: I still can’t believe she’d think that.
Mia: First impressions last a long time. And you haven’t done enough to dissuade her.
Matt: I turn into a bumbling idiot every time she’s around. How am I supposed to talk to her?
Mia: If I were you, I’d figure something out. Because Rosie is awesome and someday someone is going to snap her up and you’ll have wished you spoke up.
Matt: I’ll try. Good night, Mia.
The next day, Keith came up to him at work while he was unloading the industrial dishwasher after the first cycle of the day.
“Matt! I wanted to thank you for coming through for Damir and me. Where’d you find her? She’s great.”
An uncomfortable knot twisted in Matt’s stomach. “She’s been friends with my sister since they were in college.” He forced himself to focus on placing the dishes into their slots for service.
“So, you’ve known her a long time?”
“Sort of. She’d come down for Liv’s birthday sometimes.”
“Is she single?”
Matt broke out in a cold sweat, and Mia’s words from the day before echoed in his brain. But he didn’t want to lie. “As far as I know, yes.”
“Is she hot?”
How was he supposed to answerthat? Yes, he thought Rosie was hot, but confirming this for Keith would make him think he could hit on her. And that idea bothered Matt, a lot.
But to deny it was to deny Rosie’s beauty. Keith would see for himself the next day, anyway. “Uh,” he stammered and stalled as he pulled out the glassware.
“I get it, you can’t comment ‘cause she’s your sister’s friend.” Keith patted him on the shoulder, and Matt’s tension started to drain away. He understood! “She sounded cute as hell when I talked to her after practice last night. Can’twaitto meet her in person.”
Nope, he didn’t get it at all.
Wait a second. They talked after practice? Late at night when everyone else had gone to bed? Matt’s mind blanked, and the next thing he knew his hand was wet.
“Dude! Damir, get the broom. Matt, come with me. Let’s get the blood washed up.”
Blood? He looked down, and there was indeed bright red blood covering his hand. Shattered glass littered the floor, and bile rose in his throat when he saw a few tiny shards of what had been a water glass sticking out of his palm. Keith was leading him to a sink not far away.
“Someone call the paramedics, he might need stitches!”
Stitches? Matt clutched at the edge of the sink as he willed the spots in his vision to go away.
As Keith helped him rinse off his hand, Chef Alphonse appeared out of nowhere, shouting his head off.
“Why is there blood in my sink? I can’t have blood in the food prep sink! Now we must disinfect!” He stood on his toes to get in Matt’s face. “Take it to the bathroom!”
Matt instinctively shied away from the short, angry Frenchman, despite being taller. He hadn’t meant to use the wrong sink.
When he tried to get away, Keith grabbed onto his arm.
“He can’t go out there! There are customers out there. You want them to see blood dripping down his hand while he heads for the staff bathroom? They’ll completely lose their appetite.”
