Page 36 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

"Your tech boy's been coming around a lot lately," Mrs. Rodriguez observes. “Such convenient timing."

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. Emily Hanning again, reminding me that her feature deadline is due Valentine's Day—the day before Alex's engagement party.

I silence it just as Grayson reaches us.

"Mrs. Rodriguez." He actually smiles—not that investor-courting polite smile, but the real one I've started cataloging despite my better judgment. "How's the new espresso machine working out?"

"It's too smart for its own good." She eyes him. "Like some people I know."

He accepts this with surprising grace. "I hear that a lot."

"Hmph." But she's smiling as she turns away. "Your usual orders?"

I blink. "We have usual orders?"

"Of course you do! Though how anyone can drink that much espresso..." She bustles off, muttering about millennials and their caffeine tolerances.

"We have usual orders?" I ask Grayson again as we settle into what I'm starting to think of as our corner.

"CORA keeps track of everyone's preferences." At my look, he adds, "What? It's efficient."

"Of course it is." I tell myself that his efficiency is most certainly not endearing. Not at all. "Speaking of efficiency, how's the engagement party planning going?"

"Alex's latest suggestion involves teaching doves to sing 'Can't Help Falling in Love' while making pasta."

"How would that even?—"

"Don't ask. But it did remind me..." He reaches into his perfect suit jacket and produces an envelope. "The Children's Hospital Foundation is hosting their annual gala this weekend. Very high profile, lots of press..."

"Ah." I take the envelope. "Good for our 'relationship narrative,' as your lawyer would say?"

"Exactly." But something in his voice makes me look up. He's watching me, his honeyed-brown stare steady. "Plus, I hear there's dancing."

"Dancing?" I echo, thinking of his kitchen, of almost-moments and interrupted kisses.

“Strategic dancing. For business purposes."

"Of course." I tuck the envelope away. "Purely professional."

Mrs. Rodriguez delivers our drinks—my lavender latte and his quadruple espresso, because apparently even his coffee order is overachieving.

"You two remind me of another couple," she says, straightening napkins that don't need straightening. "Fifteen years ago. Girl came in looking lost, boy was working through medical school making lattes..." She gives me a pointed look. "Sometimes the best matches are the ones you don't plan."

She walks away before I can remind her that my matchmaking success with Olivia and Derek was entirely professional. Mostly professional. Okay, so I might have locked them in a supply closet together, but that was different.

My phone buzzes yet again. This time it's Dani:Update: Sir Galahad has challenged the entire Seattle tech scene to prove their worth. Also, he’s making William nervous and now William is panic-stuffing his face with his own goods.

“Everything alright? You look worried,” Grayson declares.

"Nothing my AI can't handle," I tease. "Oh wait..."

He laughs, and my chest squeezes at the deep rumbling sound.

"About this weekend," he starts, but he's interrupted by a commotion outside. Through Meet Cute's windows, I spot a familiar figure in chainmail confronting what appears to be a group of software engineers.

"Varlets!" Sir Galahad/Chad's voice carries through the glass. "Dost thou dare claim superior coding skills? Have at thee!"

"I should probably..." I stand, gathering my coat.

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