Page 5 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

“Right,” I say, clearing my throat. “Because finding soulmates is obviously in my job description. Do I look like a fucking matchmaker to you?” My sarcasm doesn’t faze her; instead, she takes a step closer, her playful smile never wavering.

“You don’t. Which is why you’d be theperfectperson to help me. I’m guessing you know exactly what a man wants…and how to help me get it.” She tilts her head, the early evening sunlight dancing across her features, and for a moment, I forget why I was so suspicious of her in the first place.

“Admit it,” she continues. “You’re some sort of undercover dating guru, aren’t you?”

“What’s your name?” I ask, lowering the gun a bit, but still not taking my finger off the safety. I don’t think this girl is here to kill me, but I don’t trust easily. Or quickly. Not when you’ve made as many enemies as I have.

“Allie. Allie Larsen.”

“Let me guess, Allie—Allie Larsen. You’re a schoolteacher? Love children. Want to be married before you’re thirty with a house with a white picket fence, two-point-five children, and a little ankle-biting dog?”

Her mouth presses into a firm line and a small wrinkle appears between her eyes. “Excuse me?”

Ohhhh, I’ve made her mad.I make a show of a fake shiver. “I think it just got colder in this alley.”

Her little fists ball at her sides. “I do love children but I am not a teacher—I’m a food reviewer. And I’ve already got the ankle-biting dogandthe home without the help of a man, thank you very much.”

“Great. Then you shouldn’t need me or my services.”

“But I don’t have the soulmate!” She stomps her little kitten-heeled foot against the cement.

Dammit. This girl isn’t going to give up easily. I scrub a hand down my face, the stubble scratching against my palm with a sound like distant static.

Why am I avoiding taking this gig? Sure, it’s a little unorthodox how she found me. Usually, we get most of our clients through ads and referrals. But she’s still a potential paying client and if I do a background check on her, I can quickly determine if she’s a safe person to work with. Plus, she’s standing here with those earnest eyes that are way too big for her face, and I can’t just dismiss her.

I’m not sureanyonecan say no to her.

“Look, Allie,” I start, keeping my voice even, “I’m not some kind of Cupid-for-hire. I can’t perform miracles. And I sure as hell don’t believe in soulmates.”

She doesn’t bat an eyelash, but simply cocks her head to the side defensively. “Are you saying it would take amiraclefor me to meet someone special?”

“Hardly. I’m saying that the way I work is all about tactics and precision. You have to agree to a background check and be open to my…rather unique methods.”

Her face lights up like I’ve given her a golden ticket and I swear her smile could power half the city. “That sounds like a yes.”

“It’s a maybe,” I concede. “If your background check pans out and I see us as a good working fit.”

Still beaming, she gathers her dark wavy hair over one shoulder. “Oh, we will be. I’mveryeasy to work with. I think it was fate that I saw you in that café!”

The word hangs between us, and I almost laugh out loud.Fate. And soulmates. Riiiiiight. This girl is everything I’m not.

“But…” I raise a finger before she can get any bright ideas. “We do this my way.”

She snorts with a roll of her eyes. “Well,myway certainly hasn’t worked.”

I slide my gun back into the holster at my waistband. I’m ninety-nine percent sure this girl isn’t packing. Hell, the only place a gun could be hidden is in her laptop bag and even then, I’d have my gun out and the trigger pulled before she could even find it within the heaping mess of that bag.

“Great,” I mutter, already regretting this.

She squeals and bounces on her toes, clapping her hands like the captain of the pep squad. Then, she launches at me so fast, I barely have time to react. My hand flies back to the handle of my gun, only, she isn’t attacking me.

She’s…she’shuggingme.

What. The. Fuck.

I stand there, stiff as a board, my hand still clutching my gun in the holster because I have no idea what else to touch or grab onto.

“Oh, you’re not going to regret this! Mr…uh…”

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