Page 37 of The Matchmaker
“But you’re saying Jack’s just his gopher.”
“Would you—” He breaks off with a dry laugh. “It doesn’t matter what Jack is or who he’s answering to. Just know this is the biggest opportunity he’s had, and he wants to impress. He’ll throw as much money as he needs at any problem to make it go away.”
“And that’s where he’ll lose,” I tell him. “I don’t care about money.”
“Everyone cares about money.”
“Not me,” I say. “Not Adam. He was all set to become some fancy-pants businessman, but gave it all up to take over Kelly’s when his dad died. Do you know why?”
“No, but I have the feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“It’s because he couldn’t bear the thought of it going to someone else. Because that pub is like another family member to him. Another part of him. And even though he’s only breaking even most years, he still gives it his heart and soul.”
“Sounds like a great guy,” Callum says flatly.
“He is.”
Callum’s jaw muscles flex. “And what is he, your boyfriend or something?”
“Mywhat?” I stare at him in horror. “No. Gross. No.”
His glances over at my immediate, admittedly dramatic refusal. “My mistake.”
“He’s like a brother to me. And sometimes an uncle. And my swim coach. He also helped me with algebra growing up.”
“A real saint.”
“I never said that. He just cares.” Even though he likes to act like he doesn’t. I jab the off switch for the book, frustrated all over again. “I know you think it’s just a pub. And you’re right; to most people, it is. But there’s history there.Myhistory. Just like there is in every corner of the village. My dad was from Ennisbawn. And my grandmother and her mother and I’m pretty sure some distant cousin of John F. Kennedy, though we don’t have any proof. And it may not look like much when it’s gray and gross outside, but it’s a lot nicer in the summer. We’re usually far enough from the main roads that you can’t hear any traffic, and one Christmas we had snow and it looked like a movie, and there’s a whole acre of lavender fields ten minutes away that will be bright purple by July and it’s just…” I trail off, swallowing at the thought. “It’s my favorite place in the whole world. It’s my favorite place and you’re bulldozing your way through it like it’s nothing. And if I can’t pull off this festival, I’ll think of something else. But I won’t stop. I love my home. I can’t imagine living anywhere else and I’m not going to see anyone take it away from me just because they want a nice view for their golf course. And I don’t even—”
My breath catches, instant panic making me choke on my words as the car jerks to a sudden halt. Lights flash behind the rain-soaked windshield, the world outside obscured from view as my heart slams in my chest, and my brain scrambles to tell the rest of me that we’re okay.
Callum just pulls up the handbrake.
“What are you doing?” I ask, outraged as the rain crashes against the roof of the car. It sounds much louder now that we’ve stopped, but not loud enough that I miss the unmistakable click of the locks opening. “Are you making me get out?”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously? Just because I—” I break off, only then recognizing where I am. He’s pulled up right beside my lane. “How do you even know where I live?”
“There’s only one house on this road. I made an educated guess.” He’s staring broodily out the windshield but glances my way when I don’t move, only then noticing my erratic breathing. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, fumbling to free my belt. Adrenaline still courses through me, making my fingers shake with a fine tremor. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Hey. Wait a second.”
Nope. “I’ve got to go.” I try the handle, but it doesn’t budge, which doesnothelp things and when I try it again and still nothing happens, my panic creeps upward, tightening my throat. “Is there a trick to this thing or do you make a habit of trapping women in cars because—”
He grabs my elbow, pulling me firmly back into the seat.
“Breathe,” he orders, watching me closely. He exaggerates his own breath, his chest rising as his lungs expand, and I follow the movement until I’m managing on my own.
“You’re not claustrophobic, are you?”
I shake my head, even though the space in the car does seem to have shrunk in the last few seconds. But I think that’s more from the effect of having his full attention on me than anything else. “I’m not great in cars,” I admit finally, and he nods.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t tell you.”
