Page 70 of Match Me if You Can

Or well, I have my guesses, but since I’m determinedly pretending they don’t exist, I press on.

“Josie. My assistant,” I add then glance over at him, see he’s nodding.

“She helped arrange some of the travel,” he explains.

“She’s good at organizing and arranging.” My mouth hitches up. “Part of why I’m brought her in as a junior matchmaker. Because she’s got that going for her as well as being really good at getting a bead on people’s intentions.”

He nods again, but there are questions in his deep brown eyes.

And I don’t know why, but I keep explaining. “My landlord recently doubled my rent.” I glare at Ace. “That’s part of why I accepted your offer. The rest of it is that she’s the guardian for her nephew, and he’s had a tough go of it—mom skipped out and his dad, who was a great dad, recently died. Now it’s her and him and things aren’t easy. He’s angry and he’s only ten and sometimes he lashes out.”

Ace shifts, pushing upright. “How does he lash out?”

See?

That right there makes no sense.

Well, it does and it doesn’t.

“Not physically,” I reassure him. “But verbally and he doesn’t pull any punches with the words hate and I wish you were dead instead of my dad and whatever else will most hurt Josie’s feelings.”

He curses. “You want me to talk to him?”

Another blip through my middle.

Another thing I don’t think about. Can’t think about.

“He’s only ten,” I say gently.

“Ten is old enough to know that words hurt.”

I think of Joan wilting under Steve’s assholery. I think of the snarky comments from his dad and brothers at the airport.

And I know that he knows that personally.

“Yes,” I agree.

“So, I can talk to him, make sure he gets that before his inner asshole takes over and he’s stuck there permanently.”

I nibble at my lip. “I’m pretty sure you’ll have more important things to do when our two weeks are up.”

Something crosses his face, and I feel like a dick for reminding him—however gently—that this is strictly a business arrangement with an expiration date.

But it needs to be done.

Because of all those things I’m not thinking about.

“Sure,” is he says in response.

And then rolls over on his side and falls asleep.

I guess I don’t have to worry about how to handle the whole bed-sharing thing any longer.

He’s about as far away from me as he can get on the mattress.

I stay where I am for a long moment, trying to ignore the guilt twining through my middle. When I realize that’s a lost cause, I reach for my laptop and get back to work, not stopping until my eyes are bleary and exhaustion is clinging to me.

Only then do I set my computer aside, turn off the lights, and lie down to sleep.