Page 45 of Stupid Matchmaking Love
“No idea.”
“Can you find out?”
“That would be cheating.”
“Even better. We’d be kicked out sooner.”
“Too soon for my liking. If anyone finds out I’ve got inside knowledge, it’ll ruin the competition and the resort’s reputation.”
“You’re right.” She drags her teeth over her bottom lip, thinking. “We’ll just have to come up with something tomorrow.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
We’re silent until our food arrives. I dig in to the steak, but Cristina pushes around her salad, only taking small nibbles here and there.
I’ve never seen her eat, but two and two are adding up to five—her red eyes, her downcast looks, her lack of interest. It’s like her burdens are mine and I want to ease whatever’s weighing on her.
“Look, Cristina, what I said earlier about temptation—it came out wrong.”
She shrugs, eyes down. “It’s no big deal. You won’t be tempted by me. I’m not tempting.”
“I didn’t quite say it like that.”
“You implied it.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Which part? The ugly part or the slipping-into-my-room-at-night part?”
“Now you’re twisting my words.”
“Am I?”
“I never called you ugly.”
“Then what am I?”
Beautiful. Ravishing. A glimpse of gold surrounded by obsidian. “You’re beautiful,” I say, and watch her throat work as she swallows.
“Oh,” she whispers.
God, I want to punch myself in the nose for admitting it. She’s just someone else I’ll let down, who in the end will blame me for everything that went wrong with us.
Besides, we’re blowing this competition. Not winning it. After that, we part ways. So I’ve got six weeks with her, tops, and then it’s over for us.
“What I meant to say is that I’ll be a gentleman. You won’t find me knocking on your door late at night trying to get in.”
“Oh,” she repeats as if she’s been sucker punched.
That makes two of us.
“You want to talk about what’s got you so bothered?”
She shivers like she’s shaking off a thought—about me. “I’m not bothered.”
“You’re not touching your food.”
“I don’t want to look fat on tomorrow’s live stream.”
