Page 32 of Imperfect Match (Imperfect Match 1)
The woman leaning toward me with her hand on my leg and her eyes on my mouth is cute, engaging, and sweet.
But she’s not Willow, and I don’t want to kiss her.
However, it would serve Willow right if I did kiss Kandace, considering that she is spying on us from the other side of that giant plant. Did she think I wouldn’t notice her and Aspen sneaking in and staking out right behind us? It’s fucking ridiculous how obvious they are.
But right now, I’ve got a bigger problem.
“I’m a man who likes the element of surprise,” I tell Kandace. “I think it’s more romantic.”
Her face falls, but she smiles as she sits back. “You’re right. A surprise kiss is more romantic.”
And it’s right at that moment that Willow topples off her chair and into the plant before landing on the floor on her back, her martini glass clattering on the dark wood.
Kandace squeals, clapping a hand over her heart. “Oh my goodness, are you okay?”
Willow looks a little stunned but grabs her glass, pops to her feet, and smooths her hair. “I’m fine.”
“Aren’t you … Willow? From the agency?” Kandace asks in confusion.
“Yes. Hello.” She plasters a smile on her face and looks from Kandace to me. “Fancy seeing you here. What a coincidence.”
I cross my arms over my chest and decide to mess with her. “Not really, since you made the reservation for us.”
She blinks at me several times, probably wishing her glass wasn’t empty and she had something to toss in my face. “Did I? I must have forgotten.”
“Must have.” I give her a grin.
“Well, we should be going, Aspen,” Willow says to her sister. “We’re scouting out several different places tonight to send potential matches,” she tells us, as if that explains what she was doing hiding in a plant. “Enjoy your evening.”
“You too,” Kand
ace says as Willow grabs her sister by the sleeve and drags her to the front of the bar. “That was odd, wasn’t it?” she asks once we’re alone.
“Not if you know those two. Wills is usually pretty sane, but her sister is certifiable.”
“You’re … close with her family?” Kandace picks up her wine again.
“I don’t know if I’d say close, but I’ve known them for years. They’re a little nutty, but they’re good people.”
Kandace switches the subject then, and we order another round of drinks. The next hour I spend with her is perfectly pleasant, so I ask her to dinner, mostly because I’m starving at that point.
We enjoy a leisurely meal and expensive bottle of wine at a nice Italian restaurant, and she’s all the things Willow promised she would be, but I don’t feel any spark. So after paying the bill, I walk her out, give her a hug and friendly kiss on the cheek, and put her in a cab. I can tell from the look on her face she’s disappointed, but what was I supposed to do? Pretend to be more interested than I was? Waste her time? Take her home and bang her just to get rid of the tension?
I wouldn’t do that—although believe me, I thought about it for a hot second.
But she’s not Willow. And Willow is all I can think about.
I walk back to our apartment building in no particular hurry, trying to work out in my head what’s going on in my heart. Or at least in my pants.
I’ve always found Willow attractive, but it’s never been worth wrecking what has come to be the closest relationship I’ve ever had with anyone, male or female, outside of my brother. Willow knows me. She gets me. And she still loves me. I don’t want to fuck with that, so I understand why she called that kiss a mistake. If I give in to whatever is pulling me toward her, I worry that I’ll lose the one person in my world who sees me for who I am and accepts me, faults and all.
Because what the fuck do I know about how to make a woman happy?
I cross the street, hands in my pockets. I certainly never saw an example growing up with my parents. I thought I made Glinda happy, and look what happened. She said I was a terrible boyfriend who took her for granted. She called me selfish and immature. She told me I never really let her in, and maybe she was right. Maybe I hadn’t. Maybe deep down, some part of me knew I shouldn’t trust her.
Still, the breakup sucked and I never want to go through that shit again.
But what am I going to do about these crazy feelings for Willow? They don’t feel like the same old urges to get her naked. They’re stronger and more intense. They can’t be buried or shoved aside. They’re like this constant pressure inside me, these nagging questions that refuse to leave me alone.
