Page 28 of Love Expert

My stomach swirls and my pulse thrums in my veins, but I shove through my front door, spin back to pull it closed behind me, then I skip down the porch steps and cloak myself in the confidence I’ve always needed when doing this job.

Attitude is half the battle, right?

My phone continues to vibrate against my butt, but I don’t dare take it out. Instead, I trudge across my lawn, over crunchy leaves that have fallenfrom the two-hundred-year-old trees lining our street, then through a bare patch of boundary garden bed, the feather-soft touch of baby lavender brushing across my ankles as I pass.

“Wearedoing this, Billy Caster.” I hug my folder to my chest and march across his spongy grass, tap-tap-tapping nervous fingers against the file’s hard exterior. “You won the damn prize. Therefore, you will accept the damn prize.”

“Head on up and get undressed, Bud.” Billy’s voice passes through his house, while somewhere else, a heavy thud seems to make the whole place vibrate. “I’ll come up in a sec and start the shower for you.”

“Do I have to have a shower, Dad? I don’t even stink or anything.”

“Youabsolutelyhave to shower.”

My brave march turns into a timid stroll, and my tapping fingers transform into a trembling hand as I grip the stair railing. “Just do the work,” I chant, making my way up. “Go on a damn date and let me tell youexactlywhy you suck at it.” I crest the top step and shake my hair back, but then Billy’s front door swings open and the man himself barges out.

Carrying an overfull trash bag, he skids to a stop and stares. He looks me up and down, his eyes scanning my legs and the hem of my dress settled just an inch or two above my knees, then up to my torso, wrapped in a completely modest top-half that shows absolutely no cleavage, no skin, not even a sliver of my neck.

I will give this mannoreason to criticize me.

He glances left and studies my house, then back to me again. Finally, he narrows his eyes. “Did you get lost on your way home?”

“No. I’m exactly where I intended to go.” I broaden my shoulders and straighten my back. “I’m here for our meeting.”

“We don’t have a meeting scheduled.” Starting forward again, he stalks straight past me, down the steps, and around the side of his house. He drops the bag into the trash can and slams the metal lid back down with a clatter, then retracing his steps, he re-emerges and jogs back up the stairs. “I figure you might have an error in your schedule-keeping system, then. But good news.” He strides past me, grabs his front door, and pauses on the threshold with a smile. “Now you have a free night to do…” He gestures with a roll of his hand. “Whatever it is you do with your time.” He backs into his house and yanks the door shut. “See y?—”

I stupidly thrust my arm forward and cop the full brunt of his heavy door slamming against my not-very-funny funny bone. I hiss as pain ricochets along the limb and into my shoulder. “You won the Magnolia Sava package. Accept it.”

“I don’t recall signing a contract stating Ihadto accept any damn thing.” He folds his arms and leans his irritatingly large, not-like-the-boy-from-school body against the doorframe. “I suppose you could apply to the courts or something… If you bat your lashes and show a little chest, you might find a sympathetic judge willing to listen to you waffle on about love and destiny and all that bullshit for a few minutes. If he ignores the law completely, he might even award you some kind of enforcement order.” He flashes a wolfish, unkind smile. “And even then, what are you gonna do? Grab me by the ear andforceme to participate in your little scheme?”

My eyes jump to his ears, even without my permission.I’m definitely tempted to grab them. “Pleasedo the thing,” I bite out. “Everyone saw you win last night, which means they’ll want to know you’ve collected.”

“I’d rather five thousand dollars.” He extends his hand, palm side up. “Can I transfer my prize to cash?”

“No!” I slap his hand away so the loud crack of our colliding skin echoes all the way to the street. “Your prize is not transferable.”You jackass!“Let me do my job. Please.”

“You really wanna keep that streak going, huh?” Entirely too amused, he bounces his hip against the door frame and glances back into his house as pipes rattle in his walls. Sucking on his bottom lip, he brings bright green eyes back around and looks me up and down, but unlike before, his gaze is less cataloging and more appreciating… with a side of leering. “I’m not looking for love, Magnolia, so even if I pretended to go along with this bullshit, I’d throw the game, anyway. Set me up with someone nice? I’ll tell them their dress is ugly.”

My breath comes to a sharp, aching standstill. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I? I thought I’d already proven how much of an asshole I can be. If you’re still not clear on the matter, I’d be happy to turn the volume up another notch or two.”

“Billy—”

“I’m notnotlooking for a body to spend a little time with though. Ya know, in the thirty-seven seconds I have a month where I’m neither a dad, nor am I on shift or dealing with everyone else’s nonsense.” His eyes drop to my legs. “Would you feel right setting these dates up,knowingI was only there for one thing?”

My lips peel back with disgust.

“I’m just a man, after all. A single, healthy, thirty-three-year-old man whose life tends to be quite stressful. Such circumstances leave me in need of…” His green-eyed gaze flicks up and stops on mine. “Affection. If you’re offering to find me a bed buddy, then I’m happy to discuss. But you should know I prefer things a little rough, so keep that in mind when you’re shopping.”

An enraged growl vibrates from the base of my throat. “You’re despicable.”

He chuckles, entirely too comfortable in his piggishness. “Unfortunately for us both, I heard all that whacko stuff you spouted off last night about true love, which leads me to the conclusion any woman you set me up with is looking for forever.” He clicks his tongue. “I don’t want forever, Magnolia, I just want a pair of panties to chew on.”

“Why do you insist on being so friggin’ difficult?” I dart under his arm and slip through the gap between him and the doorframe.

“Hey! Wait!” He spins. “You can’t just come into my house, Magnolia!”

I stalk through his living room and pass a couch overflowing with unfolded laundry. The floor is littered with balls much the same as those I found in my backyard, and his coffee table holds five different plastic cups, all with varying volumes of liquid still in them. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, but as I turn back and face him, my pulse only grows faster as I spy a flat-screen television mounted to the wall above the fireplace, a football game already playing with the volume down low, and below that, framed pictures lining the mantel.