Page 10 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

Just as I think this, the blanket pulses like the lights that followed me all the way to the restaurant.

Okay.

Just a coincidence. Right?

Of course it is.

Around me, people ooh and aah while I tap my foot impatiently. Can we just get on with this? There’s no such thing as a Soulmate Quilt. Even if there is, it won’t be spitting my name out of its squares—or however this works.

Mina lifts her hands. “To enter the contest, write your name on a slip of cloth and pin it to the edge. But only if you’re single. No cheaters.”

People laugh while I eye the exit door like it’s a lifeboat in the ocean. It’s only a few feet away. If I could just make it . . .

But when I take another step, the light brightens and Mina’s sharp gaze makes me break out into a sweat.

She continues, “In one week, the quilt will reveal the names of the contestants who are perfect matches. Those couples will be entered into the official competition.”

She places a bejeweled hand on her hip. “I know what you’re wondering—why have a competition if you’re already matched? You must get to know them, and that’s where I come in.”

“And that’s where you should go out, too,” I mutter.

Rhett shoots me a dark look and I smile innocently, all teeth.

“You may not match with anyone,” she admits with a frowny face. “But there’s always next year. Let me be crystal clear on this—only couples the magic deems compatible will be paired, and they will go on to compete against the others in a live streamed competition. Does everyone understand?” she asks, sounding like a cheerleader explaining to a toddler how to do a backflip.

“Yes,” people say. One guy yells, “Yeehaw!”

Mina laughs. It’s very shrill. “Best of all, the winners of the competition—the couple deemed most compatible—will receive one hundred thousand dollars! Yay!”

She really said yay.

People clap, and my gaze, for some stupid weird reason, zips up and lands directly on Rhett Maddox.

Who’s looking at me.

Oh, hell no.

“So it’s this simple. The first step is to write down your name.” She hands me a pen and a piece of cloth with a safety pin attached to one end. She holds the fabric a beat too long before releasing. “Got that?”

I nod.

“Then pin your cloth on the quilt.”

She offers Rhett a pen and a strip, then winks.

He looks down at the offering as if it’s a snake ready to strike.

I feel this so hard.

His jaw twitches before he slowly accepts the items.

Then Mina whips toward the rest of the crowd. “Once you’ve pinned your name to the quilt, you’ll have officially entered the contest. Yay! You never know. You might just find your soulmate.”

Her twinkling gaze swivels back to me, then Rhett, then back to me.

My heart stutters.

No, she didn’t.