Page 8 of Forbidden Match

Oh hell no.

As soon as I see Molly retrieve her ticket from the trash, I make an excuse to Sam that I have to head out. Even though it’s well past quitting time at the site, I make up some paperwork I forgot to do and tell him I’ll see him later.

At the dark, empty work site, I go straight into the office trailer, but I stop dead when I see that the trash has been emptied. I guess my little pep talk about not slacking made someone go above and beyond and take it out instead of waiting for it to overflow.

Swearing, I turn on the floodlights and stomp toward the dumpster. I swear to god, if that damn ticket isn’t right on top …

It’s not.

Of course it’s not.

Ihaveto find that winning ticket. Molly didn’t take hers back just to keep it as a souvenir. She’s smarter than her brother and she’ll definitely find a way to get to that retreat. Since I can’t stop her—well, I could, but what would my explanation be? As much as I’d like to haul her over my shoulder and keep her locked in my cabin for the weekend instead, there’s no chance of that happening.

And I’m not about to snitch on her. She’s an adult and can do what she wants.

Just … not without me around to keep an eye on her.

That’s all I’m going to do—keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t get in over her head and get taken advantage of. Poor girl’s never even been on a date as far as I know, considering Sam (and I) have always scared off any guy who tried.

All these years I’ve been acting like a loyal friend, but really, it’s been because I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Molly with anyone but me. That realization hits full force just as I start climbing into the dumpster and fishing through the mess for the damn ticket. Why else would I be going to such lengths?

But it’s not like I’m going to do anything but keep an eye on her. Hell, once she gets matched up with someone, I’ll just be pointing out all his flaws to talk her into driving home early. If that doesn’t work, I can just threaten the guy into bailing on her.

By the time I finally find the ticket under a pile of sawdust-covered sandwich wrappers, I know I’m not letting her get matched up with anyone but me. It’ll just be easier that way.

And that doesn’t seem like it should be too difficult. According to the rules, you have to fill out a questionnaire online in order to help the idiotic matchmaker find your soulmate.

I scoff to myself. Ha. As if I need some hack to tell me who that is.

“Fuck,” I swear out loud as I wait for the ancient office laptop to fire up.

Do I honestly think that? Molly, my soulmate?

I certainly know enough about her to ensure we get matched, if nothing else. I know her favorite books—some of which she inspired me to read—her favorite foods, her ambitions, and what she holds most dear.

Honestly, I’m surprised that it’s so easy to fill out. I’m even more surprised at how naturally the answers come to me, as if I’m not trying to scam this dumb contest. It’s like I’m answering honestly.

I guess Molly and I are more alike than I ever realized. Works in my favor, thank goodness.

Once I send off the answers, I put my head in my hands.

Normally I take the weekends off, but we’re under the gun and behind schedule. I already booked most of my crew for overtime—the single guys who don’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day,andthe ones who’ll be able to tell their partners they can afford nice gifts with all the extra money they’ll make. They’ll all be here bright and early tomorrow morning.

And now I’m planning on going to this retreat … I’m going to need back up.

I call up Sam, asking if he wants to get started right away. Between him and Jim overseeing everything, I think I can swing taking the weekend off. Worst case scenario, I can always bust ass on Monday when this is all over and everything’s back to normal, with both me and Molly still safely single.

That thought is a little more depressing than I expect, and it hits me straight in the gut.

For all I say I like being alone out in my cabin in the forest, I’d rather share all the hard work I’ve put into making it perfect withsomeone else. The perfect someone else, who is and will only ever be Molly.

“Fuck!” I yell. Even through my hands, it rattles the tin walls of the tiny trailer.

What have I gotten myself into? Spending the weekend with Molly is only going to make me miserable. I’ll see exactly what I’ve missing all this time.

And once she realizes I’m sabotaging her chances at finding a match, she’s going to be so pissed at me, it’ll ruin her time too. Then she’ll despise me. The only thing I can hope for is that she’ll come to her senses and won’t show up tomorrow. But I know Molly—when she’s determined to do something, she does it.

She’ll be there, and so will I.

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