Page 94 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

My gaze flicks to the bottle on my nightstand. I put Flame down, grab the vial, and shake out one tablet. I swallow it without water, knowing that within half an hour, sleep will take me.

A noise comes from Cristina’s room, and I go to the door, pressing my hand against the surface. I imagine her, blond hair fanned out on the pillow under her head, her body twisted in sheets, her own nightmares prodding her, whispering that the only way to survive is to fail.

I close my eyes and lean my forehead on the door. My hand, as if acting of its own free will, lifts to knock, and the overhead lights pulse.

The magic hums low—whether it’s urging me on or warning me back, I can’t tell.

Either way, I don’t knock. Let her sleep. In a few days, there’s a new challenge, and I’ll be damned before I let anyone else win. Not for myself. Not even for the resort.

For her.

The goal might keep me focused.

But it won’t keep me from falling.

Chapter 29

Cristina

When I wake up the next morning, my hair’s plastered to my cheek and the scent of Rhett fills my nostrils.

Rhett.

I jolt up, twisting to see if he’s in the room, but it’s empty. The only trace is the faint indent in the pillow he leaned on. And his scent still lingers, making my chest ache.

Flame isn’t in her cage, which means she must be with him.

My cheeks heat as I recall how his thumb stroked my skin, and then his words echo in my head, loud as thunder: I need to know you want me, not the escape. And then: We should win.

The last thing I remember from last night is listening to his heartbeat under my ear and how calm and sure it sounded.

God, how I miss it.

Then it all comes back to me. Oh no. Did he really say no to sex? Did he really say it would be real?

My heart kicks into such a high gear it feels like it’s about to jump from my chest. My lungs tighten and I exhale slowly.

Calm down, Cristina. Maybe you didn’t make a total fool of yourself.

And maybe I did.

I drop back onto the bed, covering my eyes with my forearm. I didn’t just ask the man for sex, I told him my life story. Ugh! Next time I embarrass myself, I might as well do it in style—like trip and fall into a giant birthday cake.

Why didn’t I just ask Rhett to juggle chainsaws while I was at it?

Something soft and furry nudges my hand, and I pull my arm away to see Flame hopping toward me on the bed.

How did she get here?

“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her. “You didn’t stop me as I offered up the world’s most embarrassing plan.”

Flame sneezes a shower of pink glitter that falls onto the bed. Oh, that’s amazeballs!

“Remind me not to allow handsome men in my room past eight o’clock. Especially ones with voices that sound like molten chocolate. Deal?”

Flame’s only response is pressing her body against my hip. Works for me. I push myself up and breathe slowly to calm my fluttering heart.

It’s okay. This is easy. I can spend today avoiding Rhett. I don’t have to see him at breakfast. I can skip dinner.