Page 65 of Match Me if You Can

I think of her upbringing.

I think of her strength.

I think of her still believing in love and working hard to make that happen for her clients.

“She’s a good one,” I murmur.

“Yeah,” he says. “And you were smart—for once—to put a ring on good instead of bitchy, nuts, or gold-digging.”

I put a fake ring on it.

Eventually, our two weeks are going to be up and then I won’t see Vi again.

She’ll go back to her life.

I’ll go back to mine.

It’ll be fucking great.

Right?

Because Noble isn’t wrong.

I have shit taste in women, and adding that in along with my knack for fucking up my life…it’s why I went to Violet in the first place.

“I feel like that’s both a compliment and an insult,” I grumble, mostly because he’s looking at me, waiting for a response.

He smirks at me. “That’s because it is.”

“That good ol’ Ambrose classic,” I say dryly.

“Exactly.”

“So, is a representative from Maison Étoile really coming to the wedding?”

I watch Violet, who’s now shoved her phone into her purse and is click-clicking over to us in her heels, as I answer, “Yeah, Hugo Laurent and his wife, Evelyn, are coming.”

Noble whistles. “Hugo’s the owner?”

“He and Evelyn own it together.”

“And they want to offer you an endorsement deal?”

“Ally kind of pursued them and wore them down until they made an offer.”

“That sounds like Ally.” He grins. “How much is the contract for?”

I tell him.

“Fucking really?”

I nod, glance over, and see that Violet’s phone must have rang again because she’s digging it out of her bag and putting it up to her ear again.

“That’s fuck-you money,” he says. “That’s not having to skate in another game in your entire fucking life money.”

“Except,” I mutter, “I like skating.” Since Violet’s going to be a minute, I snatch the paper back from him and start reading the list of the items we need to collect for the pre-wedding scavenger hunt—yes, really.

He shoves my shoulder. “You know what I mean.”