Stud Finder (1001 Dark Nights) Read online

  “My sister?”

  “Duh. We’ve become friends.”

  “I knew that, but I didn’t realize you were brunch friends.”

  “We are totally brunch friends. After I hung out with her at one of Chase’s Scrabble parties, we both realized we had brothers who drove us crazy.”

  I laugh. “Chase and Max definitely can drive a sister crazy. Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your brunch. But sure, I’ll choose B—mystery shopping with you.”

  “Great. I’m paying the bill. Good thing you called now. We instituted a cell phone-free brunch, and I literally just turned my phone back on.”

  * * * *

  At the bath and beauty products store, Mia hands me a body wash with the name Strawberry Fields Forever. “Would you buy this for a woman?”

  I sneer at the pink Strawberry Shortcake-style branding. “No.”

  “Now smell it.”

  I unscrew the cap, and I’m surprised at the light and fresh strawberry scent. I shrug. “Cheesy branding. Nice smell,” I say, and Mia says thank you.

  She runs a cruelty-free beauty products company on the West Coast, and she’s enlisted my help from time to time when she’s in town to give feedback on what a guy would buy for a girl. Now that I’ve given some, I figure it’s time to ask her advice.

  “So…I need your advice on a situation.”

  “Bet it all on black.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “Anyway, tell me what’s up.”

  I lean against the shelf and give her the quick download. We hung out, I found myself liking her, we got it on, she took off with a note, yada, yada, yada.

  Mia’s eyes widen with each line, and when I hit the part about the hotel room—no NSFW details, of course—she shoves my shoulder. “You dog.”

  “I like dogs, so I’ll take that as a compliment. But then she left a note and I don’t know what to do.”

  She arches a brow. “What did it say?”

  “Something about breaking a rule as a matchmaker.”

  Mia bounces on her toes. She clasps her fingers tightly. She draws a sharp breath. “That means she likes you!”

  “Well, I would kind of hope so, since we did get a little bit naked.”

  “Sounds like it was more than a little bit,” Mia says out of the side of her mouth.

  “Fine. It was a lot naked.”

  She holds up a hand. “I don’t want to think about you naked. The point being, that must mean she’s really into you. Did you tell her how you felt? That you’re totally falling for her?”

  I hem and haw. “Um.”

  She sighs so heavily it sounds like it has its own weight class. “Dylan,” she admonishes. “You didn’t tell her you’re falling for her?”

  I cycle back to last night and the things we said. I told her how much I wanted her. I told her I liked being with her. But did I actually give voice to the most important part of my feelings? Did I ever say out loud that I was falling hard for her?

  “I don’t think I did.”

  Mia squeezes my arm. “Do it now. Don’t overthink it. She probably feels guilty that she fell for you rather than found you a match. Let her know you fell for her, too. That you’re in it together.”

  I have a lot of work ahead of me to achieve that goal. To be in it together. Time to start.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Evie

  Olivia isn’t home.

  Olivia hasn’t answered her phone.

  Olivia isn’t where I need her to be, and I’m standing in front of her brownstone, wishing her fiancé had installed a microchip in her, like she was a little beagle, and that Dylan was using his pet tracker on her.

  Wait. That’s a terrible thought.

  I don’t really want Olivia microchipped.

  I do want to find my friend. As I wait on the stoop to her home, freshly showered and wearing a peach sundress, I do what any woman would do in this situation.

  I dial her number every ten seconds, in between checking Pinterest for vintage clothing inspiration.

  I try her number for the 417th time, cursing once more when it goes to voicemail. “Where are you?” I mutter.

  “Looking for me?”

  I snap my gaze up and follow the voice down the street. With big Jackie O. sunglasses, Olivia strolls down the street as if she hasn’t a care in the world.

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone when I’m having a crisis?”

  “Mia and I decided to have a cell phone-free meal. We were inspired by your effort not to look at your phone while walking, and I forgot to turn it back on.”

  “Don’t listen to me ever again,” I tell her. “I needed to reach you desperately.”

  She reaches the stoop and yanks off her shades. “What’s going on?”

  I meet her eyes, and I speak the truth. “I’m a terrible friend. I’m a terrible matchmaker. I’m a terrible businessperson.”

  Olivia’s face is crestfallen. “Oh honey. No, you’re not. What’s wrong?” She wraps an arm around me. “Come inside.”

  A minute later, I flop down on her couch, drop my head in my hands, then look up. “I’m completely falling for your brother.”

  Her lips twitch. “Really?” Her voice is high-pitched, as if she’s holding onto some possibility.

  “Yes, and I’m so sorry. It’s the cardinal rule of my business—don’t fall for clients. And I did it. I fell for him. And I like him so much, and I can’t set him up with anyone. And I had to tell you that I slept with your brother, and you’re my friend, and I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” She cackles as she repeats the word.

  “I mean it. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh Evie, don’t be sorry at all. I’m smiling. I’m laughing. I’m completely delighted.”

  “You are?”

  “I think it’s fabulous.”

  “You do?” I’m so confused. How can she be delighted?

  She squeezes my arm. “Yes. I’m thrilled. I want you to be happy, and you have to stop apologizing because there’s nothing wrong with falling for someone. You don’t just have to make other people happy. You can be happy, too, and you didn’t cross a line since you never set him up with anyone else.”

  I fidget with my watch. “Are you sure?”

  “Hon, I’m positive. Stop being so hard on yourself. You fell for a client. It happens. But you did it before you went too far in the business relationship. Now, you can focus on being with him.”

  I draw a deep breath. “That’s the thing. We’re not technically together yet.”

  “Does he know how you feel?”

  “Sort of?” I offer with a shrug.

  “Let’s make sure it’s more than sort of. You helped me find the love of my life. Now it’s my turn to help you.”

  * * * *

  I walk home, weighing what to say and how to say it. When I reach my apartment in Chelsea, a plan is fully formed. It’s simple but direct, and I think that’s what I need at this point. Once inside, I sit down at my desk, grab a fresh sheet of paper, and write another note.

  I head to the bathroom, check my reflection, freshen up my makeup, fluff out my hair, and call Dylan.

  “Hey you,” he says when he answers, and the way those two words sound melts me.

  I like this guy so much. “Hey.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m good. I was hoping to see you,” I say as nerves flutter inside me.

  “I was hoping to see you.” He takes a beat. “In about five minutes.”

  I startle. “What?”

  “I’m in your neighborhood. Can I come over?”

  “Yes.” The word comes out as if it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to say to him.

  When he arrives, and I buzz him in, I peer down the hall. As soon as he rounds the top of the stairs, my heart flip-flops in my chest, like a fish on the shore. I place a hand on my belly, as if that’ll calm me down, but I’m not calm, nor cool, nor collected. Because he’s here. Striding toward me, ca
rrying a cute little pink shopping bag with a bow on it. He wears jeans and a gray T-shirt that fits him well, showing off those arms that caged me in last night, that spread me open, that held me close. And those eyes are smiling, but I also see the nerves in them.

  That’s what turns me inside out with hope. He’s as nervous as I am.

  “Hi.” My voice is breathy. “Want to come in?”

  “I’d love to.”

  I hold open the door, and he steps inside my one-bedroom for the first time. It’s light and airy, with three cool white walls and a sky blue one. The curtains flutter in the summer breeze. Magazines and books are stacked neatly on my silver coffee table, alongside a vase of blue irises.

  “You are a neat freak,” he says.

  I smile, owning it. I show him to the dove gray couch, and we sit. I grab the letter. “I wrote you a letter,” I blurt.

  “I bought you some gifts.”

  I laugh, and he does, too.

  “Jesus, are we both dorks?” he asks.

  “Maybe,” I say with a laugh.

  He sets down the bag on the coffee table, then meets my eyes. He parts his lips to speak, then mutters fuck it. He cups my face in his hands and dips his mouth to mine. We kiss, and I feel as if it’s been days rather than hours. He slides his lips over mine like he wants to do it again and again, for a long time. It’s dreamy and tingly, sexy and hot at the same damn time.

  When we separate, he breathes out hard as he holds up a finger, the sign to wait. “First, forgive me. It’s going to be very hard for me to not kiss you right away when I see you.”

  A smile spreads on me. “Is that so?”

  “Because I’d really like to keep kissing you. And to keep seeing you. And to keep dating you.” He runs a hand through my hair, and I lean into it. “I’m not interested in anyone else. I’m falling so hard for you.”

  I squeak.

  Yep.

  I freaking squeak as my heart shimmies up my chest and does a jig. “I’m falling for you, Dylan,” I say, and then it’s my turn to stop resisting. I run my finger over his top lip, and I dive in for a quick and passionate kiss. He pulls away and reaches for the bag. “I have some gifts that I hope will show you how I feel.”

  I rub my hands together. “I love gifts.”

  “I figured you did.”

  He reaches into the bag and hands me a cup of boba tea. “I picked this up a few minutes ago. This is because I want to experience new things with you, like this tea that I suddenly like a lot.”

  He hands it to me, and I take a sip. It sends a dose of happiness through me. I give it back to him and say, “You have some now.”

  He leans into the straw and sucks, his eyebrows wiggling in delight. Then his hand goes fishing again, and he takes out a jar of spicy salsa. “This is because there’s no one I’d rather take out for cheap tacos or for fancy sushi, for that matter.”

  “I want to be the one you take out. For both,” I say.

  One more dip inside, and he grabs something black. A swath of fabric. I arch a brow in question as he hands me the material. Yoga pants.

  “This is because I like you so much I’d tolerate yoga to be with you,” he says. “Also because your ass looks spectacular in yoga pants.”

  I shift my shoulder toward him flirtily. “Yours looks great in gym shorts.”

  He reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. Sparks spread in my body, and it feels so damn good. “I want you to match me with you.”

  And my heart skips out of my chest, flinging itself at him.

  But I have things to say, too. “I left quickly this morning because I felt like I was taking something away from my clients because of how I want you. But even if I feel guilty, it’s not changing how I feel for you.”

  His smile is beautiful as he squeezes my hand. “Good.”

  “You have to know I tried to do my job. I tried to find someone for you.” I raise my chin, ready to deliver my news. “And I think I have.”

  “What?” The look on his face is pure confusion.

  “I reached out to a matchmaker,” I say, in a happy, upbeat tone.

  He furrows his brow. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s a woman I know. A friendly competitor.”

  He drops my hand. “I don’t get it.”

  “I told her what I’m looking for.” I hand him the letter.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dylan

  I unfold her note.

  When I read it, there’s no poker face on earth that can contain the grin I feel inside.

  Woman seeking man:

  Fun, successful, slightly competitive, bargain-hunting, boba tea-loving woman who runs her own business seeks her very own pain-in-the-butt, handsome-as-hell, brainy guy who wears panty-melting glasses, has hair she wants to run her hands through, loves to play the kinds of games that should be played, and who makes her feel like he only has eyes for her. She wants them to share all the good things, from new experiences, to discovering the city, to dining cheap and dining expensively, to hot nights and fun days and all the adventures of this world together.

  I place the paper on the table. “I think you found a buyer, Evie.”

  She smiles so brightly it makes my heart thump harder. “You have to know I didn’t think I wanted a relationship. I didn’t think the time was right,” she says, curling her hand over my shoulder.

  “But I wormed my way into your heart.”

  “You’re persistent.”

  I pump a fist. “And not taking no for an answer paid off.”

  “It did. I didn’t expect to want this or you. But I do. I want you so much. I want to be the one you choose.”

  I shake my head, amused that she’d think there’s any choice for me but her. I bring my forehead to hers and say what I didn’t say last night. “You’re who I want.”

  “What would you say about a second date then?”

  I raise a brow. “Second? I say it’s the fifth.”

  “Oh well, if it’s the fifth, we can go to my bedroom right now.”

  “Only if I can do unspeakable things to you on your pristinely made bed.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.”

  She’s already exceeded all my expectations, and I have a feeling that’s how it’s going to be with her. Can’t say I mind that at all.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mia

  At a bar in Midtown called Speakeasy, Mia nursed a Purple Snow Globe as she waited for Olivia, her mind wandering to her friend Dylan and the new woman in his life. Evie was a fun, smart, lovely lady. Evie also happened to have a brother, who Mia had grown quite fond of.

  An image of Patrick flashed before her eyes—tall, broad, strong, and with a smile she couldn’t look away from. From the first time she’d met him at her brother Max’s apartment, she’d found him devilishly attractive. She craved him so much. More than he could know. But there were hurdles.

  But there had been hurdles for Dylan and Evie, and they were on the path to crossing them. Mia had high hopes for the two of them.

  After all, that was why she and Olivia were meeting tonight, once again. At last, they could celebrate their efforts.

  When Olivia arrived, she did a little victory dance, hands in the air, hips shaking, brown hair shimmering. Mia joined her, then they smacked palms.

  “We did it,” Olivia said.

  Mia raised her glass. “We are awesome matchmakers.”

  “Sometimes people don’t know what’s in front of them until their friends push them together.”

  “It’s a good thing they both have such great friends.”

  Epilogue

  Indeed, some things are not what they seem. From time to time, the matchmaker gets matched. By her friends.

  Because sometimes, a man and a woman can’t see how very good they’d be together. They only see differences, even if they’ve both been trained to look beneath the surface. But people are people, and don’t always peer closely when it comes
to themselves. Yet their friends could see. Their friends could tell. And their friends knew that Evie and Dylan only needed a nudge in the right direction to come together.

  That ad Dylan placed? Mia was glad he ran it, since it allowed her to tell Olivia, so Olivia could show it to Evie. For Olivia knew that once Evie saw it, she would insist on helping. And once she helped, how could she do anything but fall for the man both their friends knew was right for her? The matchmaker and the hot nerd simply needed to spend time together to see that they wanted new experiences, that they both were competitive in their own ways, and that they loved to uncover the city.

  When the two seemed resistant to a match, that was when Mia and Olivia called in reinforcement. That hike in the woods between brother and sister? Mia was the one who coaxed Patrick into asking those questions of his sister, hoping the questions would encourage Evie to see Dylan in a new way.

  And she did. Dylan saw Evie in a new way, too, as they discovered more about each other and all the things they loved. But in the end, what they loved most was each other.

  For this isn’t a story of how opposites attract. It’s a story of friendships. And how sometimes, our friends can see what we need the most.

  As for Dylan and Evie, when we last left them they were falling in love.

  And right now? Let’s see where they are, shall we?

  Another Epilogue

  Two weeks later

  Dylan

  I shake my head. She’s wrong. So wrong. “That movie was awesome. I seriously can’t believe you didn’t like it,” I say as we leave the theater in Chelsea.

  “It was unnecessarily long, it was unnecessarily violent, and there wasn’t enough humor.”

  “But the car chases. Didn’t you at least like the car chases?”

  She stops in her tracks and stares at me. “Did I at least like the car chases?” She asks the question as if it’s an incredulous notion. “Who cares when the rest of it was painful to watch?”