Page 6 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

I already fucking regret this.

She pulls back from the hug, her hands still on my shoulders. “Mr…?” she asks again.

“Just call me Thatcher.” I step back from her, sliding out of reach of those warm, soft hands. “We start tomorrow. Meet me here, three p.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”

She blinks, looking around the gritty alley. “You want to meethere? In this alley?”

“That’s right. From here I’ll bring you to our offices.”

She wets her lips and for the first time since I initially caught her in her lie, she appears nervous. “No offense, Thatcher…but um, I don’t know your last name. Or your business name. And you just pulled a gun on me. I don’t know that I feel entirely comfortable meeting you tomorrow in an abandoned alley.”

Good girl.

“Newsflash, Allie. You’re in an abandoned alley with me right now. And I still have my gun.”

Her weight shifts anxiously from foot to foot and for a brief moment, I think she’s going to back out on me.

“I’ll meet you at the coffee shop,” she offers.

I smother my smirk. “Very well. We can meet at the café and you can sign the non-disclosure paperwork there before we go to my office.”

“Non-disclosure?”

I nod. “I run a tight operation that requires anonymity to do so properly. An NDA is necessary. We’ll also discuss my fee and the contracts.”

“Any chance you could send them to me tonight? I like to take my time reading over legal things and I don’t want to be rushed over coffee.”

I narrow my eyes at Allie. Something feels off. She’s saying all the right things, but for a girl that was so desperate to hire me for my services five minutes ago, she’s catching a surprising case of cold feet. “Very well.”

She pulls a rumpled napkin and a pen out of her bag and scribbles down her email address before handing it to me.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’ll see you at three p.m. tomorrow!”

She turns her back on me—rookie mistake—and walks out of the alley with an alluring sway of her hips.

What am I doing? I haven’t noticed a woman’s hips since…since…

I groan and crack my neck from side to side. Why the hell did I agree to this? Maybe it’s the challenge in her gaze or the odd curiosity she sparks in me. Or the fact that I can’t seem to say no when it really counts.

As I watch her bounce away, part of me is already preparing for the worst. Because the last thing I need is more chaos in my life, and Allie Larsen looks like she carries it in spades. But another part, a part I’m not quite ready to acknowledge, is looking forward to whatever madness comes next.

Chapter 3

Allie

Tucking a stray wavy lock behind my ear, I pace the length of my tiny living room, phone pressed to my cheek. The worn floorboards creak beneath my steps—a familiar symphony to my bouts of restless energy.

As soon as the NDA landed in my inbox from Thatcher, I printed it out—an archaic habit, yeah. But holding documents in my hand helps me thoroughly read through them better. Just call me a boomer.

I clutch the NDA with my free hand, its edges already crinkling from my anxious grip. “Okay, so let me get this straight,” I say to Soleil, squinting at the legalese that might as well have been ancient hieroglyphs. “Icanstill write about this guy and his matchmaking shenanigans as long as I don’t use his name? Like, ‘A certain tall, dark, and brooding matchmaker who shall not be named’ kind of deal?”

Flipping through the pages of the NDA, I try to squash the flutter of panic in my chest. The legalese swims before my eyes, a murky sea ofherebyandwherein. But somewherein that ocean of jargon, loopholes are winking at me like buried treasure.

My boss’s voice crackles through the speaker, a mix of impatience and amusement. “Exactly, Allie. Keep it vague. No names, no places. Not only for the matchmaker, but for the men you go on dates with during this undercover time, even if we get their permission. If we get photos, we can blur the faces of everyone but you.”

My brow scrunches. “That’s going to make this article a lot harder.”

Soleil snorts. “Welcome to investigative journalism, kid. Think of it as writing blindfolded with one hand tied behind your back.”

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