Page 65 of The Matchmaker
“Not really,” he says, before his eyes narrow. “Are you blushing?”
“I don’t blush. I’m warm.”
“You’re blushing. You’re blushing because you have a crush on an on-site project coordinator? What are you? Fourteen? What’s his name?”
“I’m not telling you. Callum Dempsey.” I lean back over the bar as the office door opens and Adam emerges. “What are you doing?”
Harry takes out his phone. “I’m googling him.”
“Googling who?” Adam asks. He rubs his eyes in hisI’ve been looking at numbers for the past hourway and snatches one of the orange slices I cut earlier.
“Nobody,” I say, as Harry looks up.
“Katie kissed a boy.”
“Harry!” I whack his arm with a dishcloth. “Snitch move.”
“You kissedthisguy?” Harry makes a show of peering at the screen, and I glimpse a picture of Callum on it. “Well done you.”
“Okay, I don’t need to be around for this conversation.” Adam grabs his keys, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “It’s like hearing about my baby sister.”
“Where are you going?” I ask. “We could have a whole busload of people show up here in the next hour and I’ll be all by myself.”
“I’ll have to take my chances. I said I’d take Noah to the pool.”
“You did? That’s nice of you.” The nearest public swimming pool is at least an hour’s drive away.
“Yeah, well, he deserves it. He said Gemma was supposed to bring him because he got an A on his French test, but she had to work today.”
I bite back a smile. “An A, huh?”
“Yeah. Great, isn’t it?”
“The greatest,” I agree. “Except Noah’s school doesn’t have tests. And he doesn’t do French. He does Spanish.”
Adam pauses in the middle of putting on his jacket. “Well, then I guess I’ve been played.”
I can only grin as his expression settles into his usual scowl.
Adam’s been in a noticeably better mood the past few weeks. Maybe not noticeable toeveryone, but definitely to me, the person professionally obliged to spend a lot of time with him. He’d never admit it because he’s a perpetual pessimist who still expects the world to come crashing down around him, but I know he has his hopes up that the festival will work.
“Just go,” I say. “He should be rewarded for his shamelessness.”
“I said I’d take him for a burger as well,” Adam mutters, and I laugh. “You’re good here?”
“We’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be back by five. And Harry pays for everything he orders,” he adds, pushing open the door. “No freebies.”
I give him a two-fingered salute and turn to Harry. “Do you want a mocktail? It doesn’t have any alcohol in it, but it does have a year’s worth of sugar.”
“Hmmm,” he says, not looking up from his phone, and I pause at the carefully blank expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But what’s Callum’s second name again?”
“Dempsey.”
