Page 21 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

My eyes pop open to see her scowling at me. “Nothing.”

“Are you sniffing me?”

“I don’t sniff people.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

She stands and so do I, wincing as I straighten. “You gonna tell me who the figurines are for?”

She clutches the box protectively. “Since it’s not any of your business, no.”

“Well, you have a great day.”

“You, too,” she says smartly, wishing me anything but.

Just as she walks away, one of the receptionists calls out, “Cristina, you’ve got a phone call.”

She stops, slowly turns around, and stares at the desk as if she’s unsure of what to do.

“You need to take that,” I tell her. “Don’t keep a potential customer waiting.”

She glares at me as she crosses to reception and steps around the desk. “This is Cristina.”

I tell myself not to watch her, but before I can look away, her entire face falls, and when it does, my chest tightens.

Whoever’s on the other end of that call just stole the light from her eyes. And for reasons I don’t want to unpack, that pisses me off.

Now I want to know who she’s talking to.

Chapter 8

Cristina

“Hey there, Kitty Kat,” my bio-father coos in a raspy voice.

My stomach instantly tightens.

“You’re a hard one to track down,” he says with a laugh.

My vision pulls in and the hotel lobby shrinks. My shirt collar constricts until it cuts off my air.

“Kitty Kat?”

I fight through the fear and manage a nonspectacular, “Uh . . . yes?”

“Is that all you have to say to your old man? How long’s it been since we talked—a couple of years?”

I’m acutely aware that the receptionist is close enough to brush my arm against, and even more aware of Rhett’s shadow lurking.

I glance up and find him watching me. Our eyes catch—hold—and before I can fully register the heat there, I turn away, careful to angle my face so he can’t hear my conversation.

There is no alternate universe where losing my cool at work is acceptable.

“Yes,” I grind out. “It’s good to . . .” It’s good to what? Hear from him? From them? That’s a lie. “How are y’all doing?”

“I’m glad you asked. I’m doing all right, but your momma’s been sick, in and out of the hospital with COPD.”

In the background, a lighter flicks on. Then comes the unmistakable sound of him pulling on a cigarette.