Matched for Me

by Knox, Abby

  Mom interjects, “LuLu has always had excellent instincts about people. She reads them like a book. She even matched two of her single teachers to each other in high school.”

  Wendy gasps. “Just like in Clueless!”

  I light up. “My favorite movie.”

  “Oh my god, I am so glad we’re going to be sisters!” Wendy says.

  Lars teases me. “Between Tinder and Match dot com, you would think my little sister having a hunch about people would be a cute little hobby and not an actual job.”

  Our father sticks up for me. “My little girl is an old soul. People need a personal touch these days. She fills that void, and frankly, I’m not surprised that it’s working for her.”

  Lars laughs. “Yeah, it works out really well when rich clients fly you across the country and spot your meals. Nice work if you can get it.”

  I toss a bread roll at my brother. “Says the trust fund butthead with zero people skills.”

  I cut my eyes and Wendy to see if I’ve gone too far, but she’s laughing along with everyone else. Even though it’s all light-hearted—you gotta be able to take some shit in this family—I see Fletcher’s jaw clenching whenever Lars makes a dumbass comment.

  Our eyes connect and the only word I can use to describe it is “smoldering.” If I didn’t know any better I would think he was angry. Does he still think I’m a spoiled little princess? Is he tense about me or about Lars? Is he upset that we’ve been talking about him shooting Slate? I can’t tell.

  It doesn’t matter. I can defend myself.

  To Lars, I say, “My little hobby might seem quaint and obsolete. But I’ve had nonstop work all over North America in the past three years, and I managed to earn my college degree online in the process.”

  Later that night, I stand idly under the mistletoe while the party is breaking up. No dice. Fletcher is out walking the perimeter again, probably.

  I linger a little bit longer and my phone’s text alert dings. I pull it out of my pocket and look. Shit. It’s from Chad.

  “Merry Christmas Eve, beautiful.”

  My stomach clenches. I’ll block him later; I don’t want Fletcher to see me giving all my attention to my phone like a bored teenager. I put it away and take a look around.

  But Fletcher is nowhere. Disappointed, I head off to bed.

  Guess my gut feelings are wrong for the first time in my life.

  2

  Fletcher

  It’s New Year’s Eve, and LuLu’s had a few glasses of red wine.

  I shouldn’t care, except it’s making her sassy and sentimental. She’s trying to break the ice with me in the kitchen, even though there’s a couple dozen family members and friends having a sloppy dance off in the ballroom.

  “Hey,” she says lazily as I busy myself with cleaning up empty bottles and heating up more snacks in the oven.

  I am pretty sure she’s staring at my ass while I’m bent over in front of the oven. I linger a little bit, letting her look. I can’t stop myself.

  “Do you remember when I was in high school and you caught me sneaking out of the house?”

  “How could I forget?” I say. “You kicked and screamed all the way back to your room and spoiled your entire secret plan by waking up your parents.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, I was a bit of a spoiled little brat back then.”

  I stand up and arrange some bacon and water chestnut appetizers on a fancy tray. She grabs one, knowing that she’d better get her share before Lars, the maniac, sees all this bacon.

  She closes her eyes as she chews, and then licks the barbecue sauce off her fingers. She looks dynamite in her black, skin-tight sequin party dress. Her lips are painted red tonight and her hair is held in place with a diamond clip that matches her earrings. Shit, why am I even bothering to stare at this woman? She’s extremely out of my league. She comes from more money than I could have ever imagined one family having. And she’s an educated, successful entrepreneur to top it off. Fun loving. Outgoing. Sought after. She’s got her whole life ahead of her and she’s got the world by the balls.

  No way she’d give an older guy like me a chance… At least not any kind of chance for anything other than a fling. And that’s not what I’m after.

  Still, I can’t help but bite back the growl when I watch her lick the tips of her fingers. Goddamn.

  “Did I ever tell you that whenever I had girlfriends over, all they ever wanted to do was spy on you and Lars? I hated it when you guys were home because my friends wanted to talk about nothing else,” she says, her voice a little slurred from all the red wine.

  “Really?” I don’t like where this conversation is going. Especially not while she’s drunk.

  “Yeah, they all thought you were fine,” she says.

  “And what about you?” I lean over the breakfast island and take her empty wine glass. I should not have asked that. I’m getting into dangerous territory now.

  “Don’t get a big head or anything, but I had an innocent crush on you back then.”

  “Innocent, huh?” I can barely stop the grin from forming on my face, and she catches it.

  “Fairly innocent,” she says, smirking.

  “I make any of your boyfriends jealous?” What the fuck are you saying to this drunk little sister of your boss right now, Fletcher?

  “I never had a boyfriend.”

  My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I desperately want to change the subject. But I don’t.

  “Renowned matchmaker doesn’t have a boyfriend waiting for her back in Austin?”

  She leans over the island toward me and the neckline of her dress gapes open. I get a whiff of her cinnamon scent on top of the wine. Fuck. She teases me, “You’re the sneaky security expert, you would know if I had a boyfriend.”

  “Assuming I was checking up on you, yes, I could find out in five minutes,” I say.

  “So, you’re not interested in whether I have one now?” She’s really pushing it. But it’s not her fault, I tell myself. It’s the wine talking.

  I shrug. “Not that it matters. I’m employed by your brother. He’s twice my size with a temper half as controlled.”

  Her eyes flash at me and she licks her lips. “Lars the only thing standing in your way of doing whatever you want?”

  That’s it. No more wine for her.

  “If it weren’t for your brother, I’d still be standing in my own way,” I say.

  “Cryptic,” she says.

  “You like puzzles.”

  “I do. I do people puzzles,” she says, amused with herself.

  “People aren’t that puzzling. You just gotta find the interlocking parts,” I say. Shut the fuck up, Fletcher. Now.

  The visual of what I’ve just said makes my dick jerk. LuLu’s eyes dart downward to the front of my trousers.

  Oh. Shit.

  “And you should be getting back to the party,” I finally say.

  “But I came in here to get a refill,” she pouts.

  I forcefully shoo this beautiful, drunk woman back toward the party, but not before murmuring in her ear: “I’m glad you like my sauce. I made it just for you.”

  I’m so close behind her I feel her gasp, and my words make gooseflesh crop up on her neck. I’m such an ass.

  The next day, while everyone in the Anderson crew is snuggled up to eat black-eyed peas with bacon, greens and cornbread in the den while watching the Tournament of Roses Parade, as is their family tradition, it’s clear to me that my LuLu remembers nothing of our conversation from the night before.

  3

  LuLu

  Fletcher has been acting strange—stranger than usual—ever since New Year’s Eve, so I try to give him some space and focus on my new friendship with Wendy.

  And then, about a week after the holidays, Wendy and I are in the family room, poring over a stack of bridal magazines. Fletcher appears out of nowhere and says, “I can have the entire event planned in an hour, just say the word.”

  Wendy and I ju
st blink at him.

  “Why would you want to do that?” I ask him.

  “It’s what I do.”

  “You’re a professional wedding planner as well as a security expert, household manager and a badass sniper?” Wendy teases.

  I register the faintest of winces in Fletcher’s face when he hears the word “sniper.”

  My god, how my body wants to go to him. I want to climb him like a tree and let him take his problems out on me. Make him use my pussy to lash out against whatever it is that’s troubling him.

  “I could have you and Lars married by Valentine’s Day if you wanted,” Fletcher replies.

  I see what’s happening here. He’s bored stiff. Unfortunately, not stiff in precisely the way I’d like him to be stiff. I know how to fix that.

  “Fletcher, that’s so sweet. But I decided to stay behind after Christmas to help Wendy plan her dream wedding. Wendy and I talked about it, and we’ve both been drawing pictures of wedding dresses since we were nine years old. Also, Wendy’s going back to college soon, so we have to cram all the fun in while we can.”

  I cannot help but notice Fletcher looks legitimately disappointed for half a second. Oh boy, he really needs Lars to give him something to do.

  “So, you’re saying the only reason you stayed was to help with the wedding?” he asks.

  I nod my head. “Well, that, and I needed a little vacation from work. I’ve been building my business for three years and been traveling around almost nonstop.” I leave out the little fact that all of this is a convenient excuse to hide out from Chad, too.

  “I see,” he says. He gives me a weirdly sad smile as he backs away. “Very good. Enjoy your planning, ladies.”

  Later, as Wendy and I are watching TV in my room and munching on popcorn, Joe Manganiello appears on screen and I make a meow noise.

  Wendy smirks. “He totally likes you, you know.”

  I laugh. “I wish. As much as I’d love to stalk him, Joe is extremely married to a goddess who could squash me like a bug. And she’s so perfect I would thank her for it.”

  “Not him!” Wendy says, exasperated. “Fletcher!”

  I shake my head in pretend confusion. I’m just not ready to talk about my feelings for Fletcher. “Fletcher? Who said anything about Fletcher?”

  She laughs. “The fact that you’re shaking your head and looking at me like I’m crazy tells me everything I need to know. Fletcher could be a stand-in for Joe, and you know it.”

  “You need to know you are losing it,” I say. “Need a brain scan? My family knows a guy.”

  Wendy is not having my bullshit. “You know, for a professional matchmaker, you certainly can’t admit who your match is when he’s right in front of your face.”

  I crunch my popcorn and think about this.

  Finally, I shrug. “Fletcher’s hot. But honestly, he’s kind of hard to pin down when I need him, but then pops up when I don’t. I’m not sure we’re right for each other.”

  This is, in fact, a complete lie. I’ve always thought Fletcher was a dead ringer for Joe Manganiello and I’m right now getting a little damp between my legs just entertaining the idea that he might be interested in me.

  Wendy says, “I saw the way you two were staring at each other over Christmas Eve dinner. I thought I saw something there.”

  I shrug. “So why doesn’t he, you know, speak to me about it?”

  Wendy says, “He’s shy. Lars told me all about their time together overseas. It really took a toll on him. He stutters when he’s anxious. Give him a chance?”

  I bite my lip. “Lars would shit a brick if Fletcher made a play for me. But he does need something to do. And I think I have a really good idea.”

  4

  Fletcher

  “You need me to help with what now?”

  I am standing in the Anderson kitchen cooking breakfast. I don’t cook all the time, but I do enjoy it. Lars has been asking me to cook a lot lately, ever since he and Wendy have been spending most of their time hanging around the house.

  I’m pretty good at having Lars’s back when he throws himself into danger. Taking out that bad guy Slate last month was a close call, though. I don’t mind being home, keeping things running smoothly, handling security, ordering supplies and even cooking. And despite my reluctance, seeing a therapist at Lars’s insistence.

  When Lars rang me up after we were both finished with the Marines, he offered me a job as his right-hand man. In Afghanistan, I was the guy who got things done. The one who took care of the details. Had everyone’s back. Made sure people didn’t get everyone killed when they made the wrong move. I had a rapport with the locals and with COs alike, so I was good at obtaining stuff for our unit that was somewhat frowned upon.

  If you’ve ever seen old reruns of M*A*S*H*, I’m basically that guy they call Radar, only bigger, meaner, less huggable and a really excellent shot.

  Need an extra day of leave? I’ll get it done for you. Want some extra time on the phone with your honey? I got you covered. Want intel on the next terror strike? I’m your guy.

  Around the Anderson estate, I’m part house manager and part protector. That last part was much harder to do in Afghanistan, so this job is kind of a breeze in comparison.

  After we came back from overseas I wasn’t the same. I woke up with night terrors so bad, my girl left me.

  I had a rough time getting a job because I couldn’t speak—my brain just didn’t want to—for months after we came back home. I’m a quiet guy anyway, but I virtually clammed up. When I did speak, I was pretty hard to get along with. I drank a lot to numb the pain and deaden the bad memories, and alcohol made me even meaner. After being let go from one construction job after another, Lars got wind of my condition.

  It’s not like I had a choice.

  We never really even talked about it.

  He showed up at my apartment one day—not sure how he found me—and said, “I have a job for you.”

  I followed him, thinking he just had a temporary gig. But then that turned into something else, and pretty soon I had my own private suite, rent free at the Anderson estate.

  And shit, I had no idea the dude came from money. In the military he acted like everyone else. A regular guy, other than being the big scary dude named Lars with tree trunks for legs who nobody ever messed with.

  A regular guy who pays me well. Really well.

  And ever since I took out that shitbird Slate, I’ve been getting paid really well to mainly hang out around the house.

  LuLu knows it. I see what she’s doing right now. She’s offering me some actual work to do, out of pity.

  I hand her the paleo breakfast she’s requested: free-range eggs, spinach and mixed berries. She moans a sexy yum-yum noise before licking her lips and taking the steaming plate out of my hands. I have to look away and think about something other than her luscious mouth. Something, anything, other than the thought of filling that hungry mouth with my thick, aching cock. Dirty dishes in the sink. The leaky faucet in the downstairs half-bath.

  “I was wondering if you would help me with the Single Mingle, an idea that just popped into my head. I think it could be huge,” she says.

  I walk back to the fridge to fetch the heavy cream for her coffee.

  Splayed across the kitchen table is LuLu’s huge pink binder and an iPad open to a spreadsheet. She’s in full planning mode, looking up at me with expectant eyes. Her full lips are curved up in a flirty smile while she digs into her breakfast.

  I turn to pour some coffee into a large gold metallic mug with a big, glittery L on it. Her favorite mug since high school. Real high maintenance; it can’t go in the microwave or in the dishwasher. I hand her the cup of hot coffee and she takes it from me by wrapping her hands around it so fast, her fingers brush mine.

  The brief touch sends shivers and heat through me simultaneously.

  “Thank you,” she says softly, like I’ve already given her a thrill just by pouring her coffee.

&nbs
p; From this angle, I can also see right down the front of her striped, oversized button-down pajamas. She’s wearing a bra and her hair has been freshly straightened. She’s even added a touch of pale pink lip gloss before breakfast.

  A few years ago, she never gave a care how she looked this early in the morning.

  Don’t get your hopes up, buddy. She didn’t do this for you. She’s a different person from the snarky high school student you once knew. She’s entirely her own person.

  Still, I can’t help thinking about sex. Thank you, Lars and Wendy. While LuLu and I are talking at the kitchen table, Wendy is sitting on the breakfast island saying goodbye to Lars. He’s standing between her legs, kissing her all over her face.

  “How about I just come with you to college?” Lars says.

  “And do what?” asks Wendy.

  “I’ll get a job as a campus cop.”

  “Stalker,” she teases.

  They continue with their kissing and goodbye-ing while I’m standing over LuLu, admiring her ample, grown-up cleavage. It’s all I can do to remember what I’m supposed to be giving LuLu an answer for.

  “So?” LuLu asks, cocking her head a little. Her deep, brown-eyed stare is sucking me in and killing me all at once.

  “Sure. What do you need me to do?” I say.

  She claps her hands and slightly bounces in her chair. It’s just enough bouncing that I can see the top of her breasts jiggle. Her soft olive skin is tempting my mouth to come have a taste. The kissing and sighing noises coming from Wendy and Lars is fucking with my head, and it’s all melding together to make my cock twitch.

  “Will you two get a room? There are plenty available in this dementedly huge house,” I say before I can stop myself.

  LuLu’s mouth falls open.

  Lars turns his head toward me. Everyone seems to be holding their breath. Finally, he steps away from Wendy, who looks unsure of what Lars is about to do, and saunters over to face me. He speaks slowly, his voice low. “Receiving your message loud and clear, pal. Come on, Tink, let’s get you to class.”