Just when I thought the meeting was over, my mom reached into her large purse and pulled out a folder of her own. She placed it on the desk in front of Julia with a broad smile.
“What do we have here? More pictures?” Julia asked, opening the file and flipping through it.
“Oh, you know,” my mom said, patting her hair, “just a little something I put together to help you find a match for my Dex. You seem very capable, of course, but I just thought it might help.”
“What’s in the file, Mother?” I asked, keeping my gaze on Julia. I didn’t like the pinched look on her face as she read the papers. It was almost like her laughter was a beast she couldn’t contain as it tried to physically claw its way out of her mouth.
My mother turned to me, not an ounce of guilt on her face. “I whipped up a little portfolio of celebrities that I thought Julia could use as inspiration.”
“Celebrities?” I choked out. “You expect her to hook me up with a celebrity?”
“Oh, don’t be silly. This is purely for reference.” Mom turned to Julia. “I’ve included a detailed analysis of why each woman’s physical attributes combined with Dex’s would make the most picture-perfect grandbabies.”
“Yes,” Julia replied, tucking the folder into my file instead of in the trash where it belonged. “I will take this under consideration. Thank you, Mrs. H.”
“Mom.” I looked at the ceiling, forcing myself to calm down. My mother had always been a little nutty, but now I knew she’d officially lost her mind. “You can’t genetically engineer your future grandchildren.”
She waved a hand. “Well, of course not, sweetheart. But there’s no harm in getting off on the right foot.”
2
Amy
“Thank you both for joining me,” Julia said, lacing her perfectly manicured fingers and resting her hands on the desk in front of her. “I won’t beat around the bush. I know there have been rumors floating around that I’m retiring, so I wanted to bring you in here and set you straight.”
It took every ounce of self-control to sit still as I waited. Julia was right, rumors about her stepping down as CEO of First Comes Love had been circulating for almost a year. But this was the first time I’d heard her acknowledge them, and it was like she was giving wings to my dreams of running this company someday. I’d been one of five lead matchmakers for seven years now, after working my way up from the best coffee girl this company had ever seen.
I wanted nothing more than for my boss—and loving aunt—to choose me as her successor. But if that was what she was about to do, why was Belinda here? I cast a quick glance in her direction, noticing the tight-lipped smile on her round face. She was likely wondering the same thing about me. Belinda had been at First Comes Love for all twenty-five years of its existence. Plus, she and Julia were best friends. I was a rock star at finding love for the singles of Southern California, but if anyone could give me a run for my money, it was Belinda. Even if she hadn’t changed her hairstyle since the ’80s.
“As you both know,” Julia said, “First Comes Love is my baby. I don’t have any children, but this business was born out of a love for love. I have raised it right, and now it’s a multimillion-dollar enterprise. Over the last twenty-five years, this company has found matches for over twenty thousand clients. Many of whom are still together.”
At up to five-thousand dollars per client—depending on what package they chose—my stomach flipped as I calculated what that meant as far as the finances for the company. I tucked a loose strand of my long, brown hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling nervous. With such an astounding reputation in this space, I only hoped that as the new CEO I’d be able to maintain that kind of track record and maintain First Comes Love’s illustrious status as SoCal’s premier matchmaking service.
“You two are my best and most senior matchmakers,” Julia continued. “Belinda, you’ve been with me since the very beginning, when First Comes Love was just me and my Rolodex.”
“And I’ve loved every minute of it,” Belinda said, her tone sickly sweet.
“Amy, you know I love you like a daughter. You may be my niece, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t offered to buy you from your mom a time or two.”
I laughed, knowing she probably had. And my mom might have even seriously considered it during some of my more—ahem—rebellious stages in life. Namely, that time when I’d ditched the rest of my class during a field trip at the zoo so I could watch the otter show (again). How was I supposed to know the teacher would forget where she last saw me and tell the search party to look in the wrong part of the massive zoo? I’d even made the news that night. A fact I’d taken pride in until my mother reminded me it was not actually a good thing.
Julia held up a bejeweled finger. “But, Amy, that doesn’t mean you’ve had anything handed to you. Oh, no. You worked your booty off to get to the senior matchmaker level. I watched you put in the hours and work your magic on thousands of happy couples. You’ve earned your place at the top, girl.”
“Thank you,” I replied, unable to stop myself from sitting up straighter in my seat.
“Which brings me to the retirement stuff. I never thought I’d leave First Comes Love. But Patrick … well, he’s been a patient man all of these years. And now that he’s retired from his firm, he wants to travel. I’m not saying he gave me an ultimatum or anything, because you know mama doesn’t play.”
“Amen,” Belinda said, raising a hand.
“But still, I think it’s about time I start thinking about hanging up my magic wand and letting someone else be the all-powerful fairy godmother,” Julia said with a wink.
I kept my composure only because I was the ultimate professional. But my whole body was tingling at the possibility of her passing that fairy godmother wand over to me. In my mind, I was doing awkwardly crooked cartwheels in a field of daisies, surrounded by rainbow-farting unicorns. In real life, I was the picture of poise.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Belinda shift in her seat slightly, as if she were also getting excited. Did she think she was getting the job? Ugh, if Julia made Bibbity-Bobbity Belinda my boss, I wasn’t sure I could handle it. If she didn’t fire me just because she could, she’d probably force me to adhere to a new dress code that only featured items worn in a Duran Duran video.
Julia sat up straighter in her regal chair. “All of that being said, I’m having a hard time choosing which one of you should take over as CEO. You’re both smart, sassy, and classy. You’ve each proven to be a fabulous matchmaker, and I have no doubt that either of you could run this company and keep its legacy intact.”
Belinda and I exchanged strained smiles, then turned back to Julia.
I held back a sigh. “So, we’d be … co-CEOs?”
“Not exactly,” Julia replied.
“So, only one of us would be CEO,” Belinda said with a hand on her heart to indicate who that would be, then gestured to me. “And the other one of us would be …?”
Julia steepled her fingers in front of her. “I think the best way to handle this would be a little friendly competition.”
“A what?”
“Excuse me?”
Belinda and I never agreed on anything, but the idea of competing for the CEO position was equally appalling to us both. How could Julia want us to compete for a job I knew should be mine? Of course, Belinda probably felt the same way, but I knew that left to her own devices she’d burn the place down.
One year we’d been tasked with planning the company holiday party and Boneheaded Belinda’s idea of a theme was “Ho Ho Ho, Yippee-Ki-Yo.” She’d actually needed to be told that it was pronounced “Yippee-Ki-Yay.” I mean, I get it, Die Hard is a great Christmas movie. But that doesn’t mean we could base a whole theme around it. Especially if the person spearheading it didn’t even know how to say its most famous line.
“I’ll start by saying that if the parameters of the competition aren’t met, I won’t be stepping down,” Julia warned.
“Well, I told Patrick I would consider letting go of the reins. But if I’m not convinced wholeheartedly that either of you is ready to take over, I’m not going to hand over my company just because he wants to take a forty-seven-night cruise, heaven help me.”
“Gotcha.” I grimaced. Forty-seven nights? Forty-seven nights, trapped on a boat in the middle of the ocean, with no chance to escape during a disagreement. Now that was love.
“So, we’ll see how this goes. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll try again next year. I’ve recently met with some new clients, and I’ve handpicked three of them for each of you.” Julia placed her hands on two short stacks of pink client portfolios and slid them towards us. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find a match for all three clients. As you know, First Comes Love guarantees our clients a match within twelve dates.”
“Or your money back,” Belinda said.
“Sounds easy enough,” I added, ready to start the race and kick Belinda’s booty.
“Ah, but there’s a twist. You two are the crème de la crème. Of course you can do it in twelve dates. So, for this competition, the winner will make the three matches in the fewest combined number of dates. You’ll have to be very targeted during your recruiting stage. No throwing spaghetti at the wall and hoping it sticks. Sound good?”
I nodded. Throwing spaghetti at the wall was a sin, as far as I knew. Just ask my Italian grandma. “Sounds great.”
“Belinda?” Julia turned to her friend.
The older woman patted her heavily hair-sprayed do. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“Perfect.” Julia handed us each our stack of client portfolios and wagged her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Let the games begin.”
3
Dex
I didn’t pay any attention to her when she bumped into me as I stood in line for coffee. Focused on my impending meeting with this matchmaker guy from First Comes Love, I’d been scanning the room for a dude who looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine.
What kinds of questions would he ask me? Had he seen the album of photos my mom made? Had he seen the celebrity file? Was he a touchy-feely type dude who would want to hear all about my past hurts in order to find me a happily ever after? I shuddered at the thought. Feelings were messy. I wasn’t big on messes.
So, yeah … needless to say, I’d been a tad distracted when she’d first bumped into me. But when they called my name and she stepped forward to take my drink from the counter, you better believe I noticed her then. Her long brown hair was braided over one shoulder. She wore a black blazer with skinny jeans. And her full lips were painted the same dark-pink color as the flowers on her shirt.
I watched in horror as she picked up the paper cup—my paper cup—from the counter where the barista had placed it. Confrontation wasn’t an issue for me, but awkward situations were. Not to mention that talking to women who looked like her wasn’t really my strong suit. Hence the matchmaker thing. And she was going to make me late for this first meeting with the guy, which I also hated.
“Ma’am,” I said, pointing at the cup. “I think that’s mine.”
“Is it?” she asked, turning the cup to read my name scrawled in black Sharpie on the side. “Ah, would that make you Tex?”
I gave her a single nod. “It would.”
“Shouldn’t you be wearing cowboy boots with a name like that?”
“Er, well, it’s not really Tex,” I said, scratching my head. “It’s Dex. But they never get it right on the cup.”
“Ah, I see.” She pulled the cardboard sleeve down to see the markings written by the barista. “And let’s see, Dex likes his coffee black with two sugars. Interesting.”
Again, I nodded, looking around. I couldn’t afford to let a disruption make me late for my appointment, even one as attractive as this. The matchmaker would be here any minute, and I didn’t want my first impression to be that I couldn’t show up on time. Yeah, I didn’t know what the guy expected of me or already knew from Julia, but I was not the type to be late.
“Psst.” She tapped her toe. “Don’t you want to know why I think your coffee order is interesting?”
“Not particularly.”
Her mouth popped open. “Really?”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I have an appointment and you’re holding my coffee hostage,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
She batted her eyelashes at me and tilted her head. “An appointment, huh? What do you do?”
I sighed. “I’m a Marine, but this isn’t a work thing.”
“Ooh,” she crooned, her eyes widening. “I can totally see that. You must have to stay in really good shape to be a Marine, huh?”
She reached out and touched my bicep, and I looked down at her hand for a second before flicking my gaze back to hers. What was I supposed to say to that? Small talk had never been my thing. Did she want to talk about the gym? She looked like she did more cardio than weight training, which was fine, but I wasn’t sure how much there was to talk about cardio. Was she even interested in talking about the gym?
Agh, small talk.
Growing up, my parents did a lot of entertaining, much to my dismay. I’d always been the teen at their parties who was only there under duress. I was terrified of getting trapped eating appetizers with a distant relative and talking about them Cowboys or some other such nonsense. And girls? Well, the only girls who wanted to talk to me at those events had been brought over by our mothers, also under duress. My struggle was real.
Before I had to think of a reply, I was saved by the barista. She called out the name Amy, and I saw a slight twitch in the woman’s brow. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Is that you? Amy?”
She smiled tightly. “It is.”
I reached for her cup and pulled down the cardboard sleeve, but then found myself unable to decipher the markings. “I don’t even know what this means.”
“It’s a single dirty Chai with three pumps of vanilla.”
“Right,” I said, plucking my cup out of her hand and replacing it with hers. “Well, have a good day, Amy.”
She smirked. “I sure will.”
With one last nod, I turned away with my coffee and checked my watch. Thankfully, I wasn’t late. I had no idea what my matchmaker looked like, but he likely had a file on me with one of those eight-by-ten photos I’d seen matchmakers in the bullpen at First Comes Love passing around. If he was any good at his job, he’d probably be able to find me.
I took a seat at a table in the corner—as far as I could get from any listening ears—and decided to take a quick look through my e-mails on my phone while I waited. Before I could even open the app, I heard the sound of heels clicking on the tile floor, and I looked up to find Amy sauntering over. She slid into the chair across from me, taking a sip of her froufrou drink like she didn’t have a care in the world. This woman was starting to get on my nerves.
“Ma’am.”
“Oh, stop calling me ‘ma’am.’ I know it’s a sign of respect and you’ve been a Marine for so long it’s probably branded into your brain, but we can’t have any formalities between us. Especially since we’re going to get really personal really quickly.”
Understanding washed over me. “You’re the matchmaker?”
“You’re surprised?”
“Kinda, yeah. I guess I just figured that when Julia said she had the perfect matchmaker for me, it would be a guy.”
She cocked a brow. “And why is that?”
“I don’t know. She said all this stuff about the matchmaker-client relationship being very … as you said, personal. That my matchmaker would try to dig deep so I’d get the best match possible.”
“And you figured a man would be able to understand you better than a woman could?”
I tilted my head, sensing a trap. I’d need to tread carefully with this one. “I figure men understand men, and women understand women. But we baffle the heck
out of each other.”
She grinned. “You’re not wrong. But you don’t baffle me, Dex. I can handle you just fine.”
My brows snapped up toward my hairline and an unfamiliar zing shot through my gut. “Is that so?”
“Yep. I’m the best of the best at First Comes Love, and probably even in the entire state of California. But they don’t have Olympics for matchmakers so I don’t have any gold medals to show off. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
I swallowed back a laugh. “Well, all right then. Why was my coffee order so interesting? You know, since you’re ‘the great and powerful Oz.’”
“Black coffee tells me you’re straightforward, you like to keep things simple, and you’re a fan of minimalism. Is it light roast or dark roast?”
“Dark.”
“You’re intense, complex; and you care about details. The two sugars, however, mean you crave a little bit of sweetness in your life.”
For a moment, we just kind of sat there, looking at each other. Her big brown eyes held mine. She was confident, that was for sure. And judging by the thickness in my throat as I swallowed, I kind of liked it.
“The only problem is,” she continued, taking a sip of her own drink, “you don’t want sweetness that bad, or you wouldn’t have messed up the perfect opportunity to flirt with a woman who was clearly trying to get your attention.”
My brows snapped together and I looked over her shoulder at the counter, gesturing to it with my hand. “Over there? You?”
“Yes, me. In fact, the first time I tried to catch your eye was when I bumped into you in line. You just politely excused yourself as if it were your fault. Between that and the missed connection over the coffee mix-up, I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
“Well, I had an appointment. I don’t like to be late.”
A Match for the Marine: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (First Comes Love Book 1) Page 2