Page 25 of Falling for My Matchmaker

I blinked. “I wasn’t tense.”

He smiled. “You were definitely tense.”

I took a sip of water. “Maybe I was just anticipating your dramatic entrance.”

“Mm. Or maybe you were hoping your matchmaker wouldn’t be checking me out too hard.”

I laughed—a little too loud. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to.”

He was teasing. Light. But his gaze lingered a second too long, like he wanted to watch my reaction curl inward.

“It was nothing,” I said. “Nate’s just...Nate.”

“Still. That would be a dealbreaker for me. If someone I was seeing had...residual connections.”

I nodded slowly. “It’s not like that.”

“Good.” He reached across the table and touched my hand. “Because I really don’t like competition.”

It was framed like a compliment. His smile was soft, even sweet.

Still, something in my chest moved sideways.

I pulled my hand back gently, tucked my hair behind my ear.

He shifted gears casually. “So, tell me something real. Family. Exes. Whatever you’re avoiding.”

I hesitated. Then gave him a trimmed, digestible version of the truth: divorced parents, a few heartbreaks, one that still left a bit of a scar.

He nodded like he’d been waiting for it. “You know what I hate?” he said. “People who get in the way of things. Friends, coworkers—whatever. If something’s right, it’s right. You don’t let outside noise ruin it.”

I blinked. “You mean...opinions?”

“I mean distractions. You and me—this feels right. Doesn’t it?”

My brain stalled for a second.

It did. Sort of. It had. At least in the curated cocktail party version of reality.

But here, now—the lights a little warmer, his voice a little lower—I wasn’t so sure.

“I think we’re getting to know each other,” I said.

He smiled. “I already know. Some people just fit.”

Another compliment. Another little shift in pressure.

Halfway through dinner, he made a joke about me “belonging to him now” if I kept makinghim laugh like that.

After dinner, he walked me to my door.

Like a gentleman.

Like a man from a dating simulator who’d selected the “chivalrous” route.

Like someone who already knew how the night wassupposedto end.

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