Page 40 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

Everyone exchanges looks with their match, and from the unease etched in their faces, I’m not sure the quilt knew what it was doing. I mean, pairing Clarice Sinclair with Beau Collins? Either the blanket is a mad genius or just mad.

“I have a question,” Rhett’s voice rumbles, low and sultry, vibrating my rib cage.

“Yes, Rhett, our generous benefactor,” Mina jokes. “I’m serious, y’all—if it wasn’t for this man, we wouldn’t be having the competition. Let’s give him a round of applause.”

Holly and Jace do this whole slow, disingenuous clap, while everyone else applauds with gusto. Maybe they are right for each other.

“What’s your question, Rhett?”

“How will the winners be selected?”

“So glad you asked—and why is it I’m not surprised the business-minded person in the room wants to know?” She giggles. “All right, the winning couple will be decided based on a points system. You earn points for each challenge, and we won’t keep your score a secret—though wouldn’t that be fun? Just kidding. At the end, points will be tallied, and the couple with the highest wins. Simple enough, right?”

Everyone murmurs in agreement.

“Now, if there are no more questions, I’ve got room assignments and your key cards with me. I will pass these out to all the gentlemen. There will be information in your room about dinner and the time of the first challenge. I’ve also added each of you to a group chat where I’ll be posting announcements and important information. If there are no more questions, you are dismissed.”

Rhett grabs the key cards, and I follow him to the elevator. One of the bellboys trails us with our luggage, but I put an end to that.

“I can take my bag. Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, I’ll take mine, too.”

The bellhop looks crushed. “You sure, Mr. Maddox?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I start to grab the handle of my case, but Rhett beats me to it. “You don’t have to do that.”

I roll my eyes. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

This is going to be a long six weeks.

“Oh, hell no,” I say when I enter my room.

The room is nice, a suite decorated in warm gold tones and creamy beige. But two feet into it is an open door that connects directly into—

Rhett appears on the other side. “What? You don’t want to have adjoining rooms with me?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“I promise I don’t bite.”

“That remains to be seen.”

He huffs a laugh. “I tell you what, I’ll keep my door locked tight so you don’t have to worry about me sneaking into your side and ruining you.”

I lift a brow. “Ruining me?”

“You think you’re the only person who’s ever read a historical romance?”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “So is that your hobby, Rhett Maddox? Reading romance novels?”

“No, I like to fish.” He looks ridiculously comfortable as he leans his shoulder on the doorframe. “I had sisters growing up, and once or twice I might’ve found where they hid their trashy—I mean, romantic—books.”

His eyes twinkle in amusement, and I quickly remind myself that we’re here to lose, not to become chums or suite mates.

“What’s this?” Rhett says, moving out of the doorway.