A Match for the Marine
A Sweet Romantic Comedy
Jess Mastorakos
Copyright © 2021 by Jess Mastorakos
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Illustration By: Melody Jeffries Design
Edited By: Krista Dapkey, KDProofreading
Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and situations are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to real people, places, or things is purely coincidental.
To get a free copy of the prequel, Forever with You, visit: http://jessmastorakos.com/forever-with-you
Sign up for Jess’s Sweet Romance Squad
Click here to get the free ebook version of Forever with You: A San Diego Marines Prequel. You’ll also get bonus content, sweet romance book recommendations, and never miss a new release!
1
Dex
“Sweetheart,” my mom said, placing a warm hand on my cheek, “you look so grumpy. Smile, will you?”
I raised a brow at her. “This is just my face, Mom.”
She rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine, and I stared at the exposed cherrywood beams in the white ceiling. This was, by far, the most embarrassing thing she’d ever made me do. And the list of embarrassing things was long with my mother. Especially when it involved my love life. This was right up there with the surprise party she’d thrown for my twenty-fifth birthday. She’d made sure all of her fancy friends brought their single daughters like I was a prized cow up for auction. My few male friends were pretty stoked about the guy-to-girl ratio at that event, but I’d been mortified.
I shifted on the uncomfortable leather sofa. It was probably supposed to be a trendy addition to the waiting room, but it was terrible to sit on. Wouldn’t a place like this want people to be as comfortable as possible while they waited for their turn to be tortured? My dentist’s office had better seating options. This place should take notes from them.
“Mrs. Harrington?” called a blonde woman in a pink suit.
My mom nodded and tossed the magazine onto the coffee table before us and patted me on the knee. “This is going to be fun.”
I stifled a groan and followed the woman and my mother from the waiting room into the bustling office space. As was my habit whenever I stepped into a new environment, I studied my surroundings with a watchful eye. Glass walls separated the large office suites from the main room. The floor-to-ceiling windows in each suite provided great natural light throughout the space. I narrowed my eyes at the sparkling glass. The lighting was great, sure, but how many gallons of cleaning solution did this place go through per year?
In the main bullpen, cafe tables, couches, and other lounge furniture that looked like it was made for collaboration dominated the area. Men and women in stylish business attire sat with their heads bent together. I watched as they pointed at laptop screens or tablets, handing files or eight-by-ten photos to each other, all while looking really good doing it.
Did this company have a policy to only hire attractive people? Attractive people who collectively had what I assumed to be good fashion sense. In my opinion, the Marines had a leg up on the attractiveness scale just by way of the cammies, though. While it probably didn’t count as high fashion, men in uniform were automatically attractive—even if they were ugly when they put on civvies. Or so I’d heard.
As a gunnery sergeant in the Marines, I saw this place as a pink-and-gold version of our shop. It was a space for teamwork and brainstorming. Rest and relaxation in the midst of constant focus on the task at hand. I recognized the air of camaraderie that the leadership of this company clearly tried to instill in the employees. They seemed to be working hard, and maybe even having fun, at their jobs. That is, if you could really call meddling in other people’s love lives a job.
The woman in the pink suit led us through the large glass door of what appeared to be the boss’s office. It was at the end of the rectangular space, and with the walls being glass and the desk facing the bullpen, it appeared that this woman wanted to keep a sharp eye on her operation. I appreciated that in a leader.
“Mrs. Harrington,” the beautiful middle-aged woman greeted my mother, coming around from behind her desk and extending her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Julia. Welcome to First Comes Love. And you must be her handsome son, Dexter.”
I smiled and shook her hand. “Call me Dex.”
“Oh, I will,” she replied. “Great handshake. Very firm. Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you.” I cast a look at my mother as we sat in the velvet chairs in front of Julia’s desk. She was going to owe me for this one. Big-time.
“Now,” Julia said, getting comfortable in her regal desk chair, “who’s excited to get started?”
“We definitely are,” my mom replied, practically bouncing in her seat, the loon.
“Are you my matchmaker?” I asked, eyeing the older woman carefully.
I couldn’t imagine she became the head honcho of this place by accident, but still, she didn’t really look like someone who could find the right girl for me. Not that I had any idea who the right girl was, either.
Julia waved a hand. “Oh, no. I run the place. I started this company twenty-five years ago with just a dream and a stack of singles organized on notecards. Now we’re a multimillion-dollar enterprise. Since your mother bought the VIP package, you’ll be assigned to one of my very talented senior matchmakers—that’s if we decide to move forward. This meeting is where we determine if First Comes Love can help you. And if not, you’ll get a full refund, Mrs. H.”
Dread settled within me. So, this was like an interview to see if I was beyond help? What if I was? I couldn’t imagine getting turned away from a place that made its money finding love for the unlovable. Maybe my mom was right. Maybe I really would die alone.
“Dex,” Julia said, “your mother has told me a little about you. But I would love to hear more in your own words. So, I’m going to start by asking you a few questions.”
I shifted in my seat and glanced at my mother again, wondering what she might have told this woman. “Okay.”
“Are you nervous? You look nervous. I won’t bite. I promise.” Julia winked.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
Julia’s eyes shifted to my mother’s, then back to me, studying me closely. “Don’t worry, Dex. I only saw bathtub pics from when you were a baby. Age three at the oldest. I wanted to see adult versions, but she said she didn’t have any of those. Which is probably a good thing, now that I think about it.”
My head whipped to my mother. “Seriously?”
That freaking photo album was going to haunt me to my death. My mother had made the thick book on one of those websites where you can upload pictures and design a scrapbook that they’d mail to you. It had my whole life in it, starting from birth until way too recently. Literally the last picture was me on my thirtieth birthday blowing out the candles with a cone-shaped birthday hat on my head. And the book wasn’t just for her to cherish like the obsessed mother she was. Oh, no. The book was a tool she used in her attempts to find me a wife. As if any woman would want to see a dude’s entire life through his mom’s eyes before they’d even gone on a date.
My mom put a hand on my knee. “Dex, honey, I just wanted to show her what
a cute baby you were. That way she could pair you up with someone who was also a cute baby, so you can make cute babies together.”
“Makes sense to me,” Julia offered with a tilt of her head, pleased to have ruffled my feathers.
I gave my mom a tight smile that I hoped screamed, You’re killing me.
“Right,” Julia said, “let’s start with something easy. Imagine you’re sitting next to someone on an airplane. You’re by the window, they’re on the aisle.”
“Okay.”
“They fall asleep, but you have to pee. Do you wake them up or do you try to shimmy around them?”
“I hold it.”
“It’s a long flight.”
I cleared my throat. “Ma’am, Marines don’t get potty breaks whenever we want. I’m used to it.”
Julia’s lips turned down and she nodded, writing something on the paper in front of her. “Got it. Strong bladder muscles. Now, what do you irrationally hate?”
I stared blankly at her. How could this possibly help me find a date? “Spinach, I guess.”
“Couldn’t tell from those biceps,” Julia smirked. “Get it? Popeye?”
“I get it.”
She scribbled on her notepad and mouthed, Minimal sense of humor. “Next. What quality do you value most in a friendship?”
“Loyalty.”
She jotted it down. “No surprise there, Marine. What historical time period would you most like to visit?”
“Ma’am, can I ask what this has to do with anything? These questions, I mean. They seem a little … irrelevant.”
Julia put down her pen. “Dex, I bet you’re used to being in charge, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I figured. And you seem like the kind of guy who needs everything to make sense. Would you agree?”
I nodded. “I suppose so.”
“That’s fine. I get it. I really do. But in order for this process to work, I’m going to need you to just go with me on this. I’m the expert in love. You’re the guy whose mom is hiring me to find a woman for you. Let me drive. Okay?”
I swallowed, my feet prickling with the urge to get up and walk out. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, what historical time period would you like to visit?”
“I’d go back to November of 1775 when the Marine Corps was founded in a tavern in Pennsylvania.”
“Lots of team spirit, huh?” Julia asked.
“Well, when you’ve been in as long as I have, that stuff becomes more interesting.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “He’s just obsessed. I’m proud of him, of course. But the Marines are his life, Julia. His whole life.”
“Okay, so, what would your answer be if you weren’t a Marine?” she asked.
I looked at the ceiling. “Uh, probably April 15, 1865.”
Julia cocked a brow. “What’s that? The first Tax Day?”
“It’s the day Abe Lincoln died. I’d tell him to skip the theatre.”
“Dexter Jeremiah Harrington,” Julia said, drawing out the words. “Did you just make a joke?”
“That’s not my middle name,” I replied. This lady was nuts.
Julia made a big slash on her paper and took more notes, whispering, “Great sense of humor, just dry as the Sahara.”
I cut my mom a glance and she wrinkled her nose at me, a sign of affection that she’d been throwing me for as long as I remembered. I used to do it back, but then I grew up. Now I only did it back if no one was around. Because—clearly—I’d do anything for my mom. Especially now that it was just the two of us.
“Now, back to you being obsessed with the Marines. Tell me, Dex, when was the last time you went out on a date?” Julia asked.
My mom snickered and then covered her hand with her mouth. “Sorry.”
“It’s been a few years,” I replied.
Julia gasped. “A few years? Are you kidding me? Mrs. H, you said he hadn’t had a girlfriend in a while, but a few years without a date is just bizarre. I mean … look at this guy.”
I frowned. “I’ve been busy.”
“With what?”
“Work.”
“Uh-huh. Plenty of people date and have jobs. In fact, I recommend only dating people who have jobs, as a general rule. No one likes a mooch. What else?”
“Well, I was also working on my degree. I have a master’s in digital forensics and cyber investigation.”
“Right. And you think college students don’t date?” she asked, blinking at me. “What else?”
“Video games.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Ha. I knew you couldn’t really be that perfect.”
She scribbled on her notepad again, this time mouthing, Addicted to video games.
“I’m not addicted to video games. I’ve just been very career-focused.” I defended myself.
Sitting back in the chair, I scratched my head. Was she right? Was it weird that I hadn’t had a date in years? I mean, plenty of people had other interests besides dating. Maybe they were focusing on their career, like me. Or maybe they wanted to travel and see the world before settling down, which I could understand. Or maybe they figured they’d rather be single and happy than in a relationship and miserable. Who could blame them?
She jotted down more notes, not mouthing anything this time, then put down her pen. “Tell me more about your job, since it’s your sole focus. What exactly do you do with the Marines? How long have you been doing it? Are you close to retirement?”
Nodding, I relaxed a bit. If there was one thing I could talk about, it was my job. “I’m a cybersecurity technician stationed at Camp Pendleton. It’s my job to advise the base commander that our comms and systems are secure, maintain data network security measures, detect network intrusion, do computer forensics—”
Julia held up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there. I should have guessed this from the master’s degree, but Mom, I take it he’s a bit of a computer geek, huh?”
My mom smiled and patted my shoulder. “He is. His father was the same way. May he rest in peace.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Julia said. “Was he a Marine, too?”
“No,” Mom said, waving her hand. “He built up his fortune in IT and was shocked when Dex wanted to join up at eighteen instead of coming to work for him at his company.”
Julia’s eagle eyes landed on me. “That’s an interesting twist. You could have been under Daddy’s wing, but you wanted to make your own way?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you still wound up in IT with the Marines.”
I nodded. “Yes, and when I retire in three years, I plan to use my trust money to start my own cybersecurity firm. I didn’t need the master’s for the Marines, but I figured it would help me in the civilian world. Plus, well, it was fun.”
“Fun, huh?” Julia shook her head at me, then she sat up straighter. “Wait, what did you say about trust money?”
“The trust fund is the reason we’re here, actually,” my mom replied, leaning forward and placing one delicate hand on the desk. “You see, when my husband created the trust, he stipulated that Dex would receive the funds when he either got married and stayed married for one year or when he turned thirty-five. Whichever happened first.”
“And how old are you now, Dex?” Julia asked.
“I’m thirty-five, ma’am.”
She whistled. “You know, most men would have put a ring on a good friend and stayed married on paper for a year so they could get their money.”
I shrugged. “That wouldn’t have been right. And I figured I’d turn thirty-five eventually.”
“Mm-hmm.” Julia took more notes, her brow raised. “What’s the Marine Corps motto? Something about honor?”
“Semper fidelis, ma’am. It means always faithful.”
“And you seem to be all that and more.” Julia eyed me up and down, then dropped her pen and folded her hands in front of her. “Dex, you seem to be highly intelligent, you have a firm handshake, which
bodes well for your masculinity, you have piercing blue eyes, a clean shave, broad shoulders, and huge biceps for a computer geek. Or for anyone, really.”
I shifted. “Uh, thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not really sure why I should take you on as a client. What’s the deal, Mom? Why did you hire me for Dex? Why can’t he find his own girls?”
Mom pursed her lips. “I think he needs a push to make it a priority. He’s always so focused on work that he never stops to smell the roses. He’s brilliant. He’s successful. He’s already had an amazing career in the Marines, and he’s got big things planned for his future. But he goes home to an empty house every night and doesn’t seem to care about changing that.”
I swallowed. It was amazing how she’d managed to compliment me and make me feel pathetic all at once.
“And then when his father died,” she continued, “and he got his trust fund purely because he aged into it rather than because he found love, well, it just made me sad. I don’t want to think that if I die, he’ll be all alone. I want to go in peace knowing he’ll be happy and starting a family.”
Julia’s eyes widened and she turned back to me. “Eesh, Dex. Suddenly it makes sense why you let your mom hire a matchmaker for you. That mom guilt is intense.”
For the first time that morning, I genuinely smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, because whenever a rich mom brings her son in here for my services, I always like to find out what that says about him. In your case, it says you love your mom, and when you love someone, you’re willing to get uncomfortable if it means making them happy.”
I looked at my mom, meeting her blue eyes that matched mine. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I think I have the perfect matchmaker for your file. You two will click. I’m sure of it,” Julia said, closing my file.
Whoever this guy was, I really hoped he’d be cool about the fact that my mom set this whole thing up. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure if we’d click. What kind of a guy wanted to be a matchmaker, anyway? Who actually wanted to stick their nose in relationship drama for a living? That fact alone might be a barrier between us.
A Match for the Marine: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (First Comes Love Book 1) Page 1