Page 66 of The Matchmaker
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. That’s what Jack said it was.”
“Jack Doyle?” His eyes snap up. “The director guy at Glenmill? The one writing all the articles?”
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Why?”
“When did he say that?”
I pause, confused by the suspicion in his voice. “The first time they all came to the pub. When I found out what was happening.”
“Why was Callum there?”
“I don’t know,” I say, growing annoyed when he just continues to scroll. “If you’re going to say something rude like he’s out of my league or—”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” he interrupts. “I just want to know what you’re doing kissing the boss’s brother.”
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. “What are you talking about?”
“You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” I snap.
He turns his phone around to show me the screen, but I don’t even glance at it. “Katie, Jack Doyle is Callum’s brother.”
More staring. More waiting. No punchlines. “No, he’s not.”
“According to all these articles he is,” Harry says. “Though most are from a few years ago when Jack got the job.Following Mr. O’Hara’s retirement, executive Jack Doyle will be stepping into the role.Glenmill Properties has become something of a family business for Mr. Doyle, whose younger brother Callum also works in the firm. Together they—”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I lean over the bar, plucking the phone from his hands. “That’s…no. It’s a mistake. They’re not brothers. They look nothing alike.”
“It’s not a rule. And they kind of do.”
I’m already pulling up an image of Jack in another tab and, after a second, I type in both their names together. A picture of them immediately comes up. They both look younger and the date on the article is more than five years old, but there they are side by side, standing in front of some construction site in Belfast.
“Nu-uh.” It’s all I can say. It’s all I can think, even as a little bit of doubt creeps in. A little bit of doubt followed swiftly by a whole lot of hurt.You don’t think it’s weird that he’s just around all the time?That’s what Gemma asked when he showed up here. That’s what I dismissed without even considering it.
“Okay,” Harry says, sensing my growing unease. “This doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
“What if he’s a spy?”
“He’s not a spy.”
“How do you know?”
“Because this isn’t the Cold War. This is rural Ireland, and you are hosting a matchmaking festival. Let’s just calm down.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Harry’s mouth opens and closes. “I don’t know,” he says.
“Right. So he just happens to show a massive interest in me. The girl who’s trying to halt his boss’s plans. Hisbrother’splans.” Hisbrother. Christ. “What if he’s not even a site guy? What if he’s a boardroom guy? What if he was just pretending to be Mr. Normal and he’s actually—”
“Okay,” Harry interrupts. “Now we’re just spiraling.”
“What if he’s playing me?” I finish. “What if I have a crush on someone who’s playing me?”
To that, Harry doesn’t respond.
