Page 37 of No Match Found
Mr. Dawson glanced at him. “Maple bars.”
“Mr. Dawson makes them better than anyone else,” I said. “But I don’t think we need all five.”
“I disagree,” Grant said. “And we’ll take the Bismarks too.”
“Perfect.” Mr. Dawson packaged up the donuts and insisted on giving them to us at half-price despite having already added the bonus Bismark.
“These better be amazing,” Grant said to me as the door closed behind us. “I take my maple bars seriously.”
I shot him a pitying look. “Oh, Grant. You don’t even know what a real maple bar is. But you’re about to findout.”
He chuckled as I led us toward the nearest bench. It was on the edge of a small park that took up a full street block. A few kids were playing on the playground, but otherwise, passing traffic was the only sound.
Grant opened the box once we were seated, and he handed me a donut.
I’d talked a big game about the maple bars—they were divine—but I felt the tiniest bit nervous as Grant took one out and shut the box.
“Cheers.” He bumped my maple bar with his, and we both took bites.
I watched as I chewed, like the bars were my own creation and he was Gordon Ramsay.
The muscles in his jaw tensed and relaxed as he chewed for a few seconds, then his brows rose. “Thosearegood.”
I let out a silent sigh of relief and smiled, enjoying my donut properly. Why I cared so much that he agreed with my assessment of a maple bar was beyond me.
“Debrief time,” Grant said before taking another bite.
A stifled a sigh. “What exactly does a debriefing entail?”
He shrugged. “Whatever we want.”
The flexibility of that phrase was both unnerving and relieving. For some reason, I had imagined something more structured.
“What were your impressions of Jeff?” he asked.
“He’s great,” I said, annoyed to find my voice higher than usual.
Grant looked at me as he finished chewing. “Care to expound?”
I shrugged. “He was nice. Smart. He understands what it’s like to work in my industry.”
Grant’s notebook sat next to him, untouched. I never knew whether that was good or bad. “Do you think Matchify did right to suggest him for you?”
“Yeah.” There was that high voice again, like I’d taken a Michael Jackson pill or sucked helium. “We’re really compatible.”
Grant grinned. “Can you dial down the passion a bit? Threadline is a PG-rated publication.”
I shot him a look and grabbed another maple bar. I wasn’t hungry anymore, but that was less important than the opportunity for stalling provided by chewing. Why couldn’t I just lie and rave about Jeff like a normal person?
Grant turned toward me so that one of his knees rested lazily on the bench, his arm slung across the back. “Come on, Vivian. It’s called a debrief, but you don’t have to be quitethisbrief.”
“What exactly do you want me to say? It was a first date.”
“But you already know, don’t you?”
“Know what?” I might not be able to outright lie, but I could play dumb as well as the next person.
He didn’t respond. He just watched me. “Fine. Let’s switch gears. Question-for-a-question.”
