Saved By the Boss by Olivia Hayle
Summer
Suzy leans against her desk, arms moving as she describes her weekend. It was filled to the brim with excitement, just as usual, and a complete contrast to mine.
“Ivory wasn’t packed at all this time,” she says. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along this weekend? There are a ton of great guys there.”
“I’m sure,” I say. “Last time was enough.”
She shakes her head. “It’s a great place to meet guys. That’s where Chase and I met.”
“The DJ, right?”
She brightens. “The very one!”
Truthfully, Suzy dates more than I can keep track of. She moved here two years ago and threw herself into crafting her dream New York life with enviable enthusiasm. Her social media is full of cocktails on rooftops.
She looks down at Ace, his head in her lap. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course you can.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to stay with Chase much longer.”
That’s not a surprise. “Oh? Why not?”
“I thought dating a musician was amazing at first. But… well, he’s thirty-two and doesn’t have a place of his own. I don’t know if that’s really for me.”
I smile at her. Beneath her veneer, Suzy’s good stock. “I think you might be right.”
“That doesn’t mean, however,” she says, holding up a hand, “that Ivory doesn’t have great quality guys. Before Chase I met the banker there, remember?”
“I remember.”
“So you should come along. You’ve been single for too long, Summer.”
I give her a confident hair toss, playing it off with drama. “What do you mean? I’m thrivingon my own.”
“But wouldn’t it be fun? You’re so good at matchmaking, it should be easy for you to find someone yourself!”
I shrug, turning toward the coffee machine. My best friend Posie often says the same thing, but it doesn’t seem like there’s a correlation between the two.
“I go on dates,” I say. “Plenty of them.”
Suzy makes a sound of disbelief. “Yeah, right. Do you know what? You should go out with the delivery guy!”
“With Dave? Where did that come from?”
She gives me a triumphant look. “He always lingers when you’re around. I’ve caught him stealing glances toward your office every time he’s here delivering our packages. Remember the time he played with Ace for ten minutes?”
“Everyone loves dogs.”
“Yes, but he did it after I told him Ace was your dog. Before then he’d always rushed off.”
I take a sip of my coffee, my cheeks heating up. Suzy, despite her kind nature, mostly swims in the shallow end of the pool of life. She is, however, a great reader of men’s interest. “You think so?”
“Oh yes. Try talking to him the next time he’s here and you’ll see just how responsive he is. You’re gorgeous, Summer, and he’s average. He won’t know what’s hit him.”
I shake my head at her. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my matchmaking days, it’s that beauty and appearance matters little when two people don’t have chemistry. And when they do, it doesn’t matter at all.
She holds up her hands. “Sorry, sorry. I know you don’t like ranking people on their looks.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
I take a sip of my coffee and decide to deflect. It’s a tried and true method with Suzy. ”Where’s Vivi? She’s been out of the office for a long while.”
“Oh, she said she might not come back after lunch.”
“She did?”
Suzy looks sheepish. “Yeah. I mean, she sometimes does that. She has no more meetings this afternoon.”
“Right, that’s true.” Still, I look at Suzy and she looks back at me. There’d been a time when my aunt had lived and breathed Opate Match, using her charisma and connections to turn this place into a small but powerful company.
Now she’s checking out more and more often.
“She didn’t say what she was going to do,” Suzy adds.
I shrug. “Well, maybe she had another hairdresser appointment.”
We both know that isn’t true. She always goes to the blow-dry bar on Thursdays, but Suzy nods. “Yeah. Maybe.”
My phone rings and I give her a smile, heading into my office. The name on my phone brings me right back to professional-land. I set down my cup of coffee and hit reply.
“Hi, Isabelle.”
“Summer!” Her voice is excited—a good sign. “I know we talk after the dates, but this time I had to call you before. I’m on my way to the café now.”
“Oh, that’s terrific. I’m happy you’re excited.”
“That has to be a good sign, right? Yes, it is. I read the information you sent me about him three times last night. He’s really quite impressive, isn’t he?”
I think of Anthony Winter opposite me in my office, the rough-hewn features, the unrelenting gaze. The uncooperative silences.
“Yes, he is. A man with a presence.”
Isabelle gives a small oooh of appreciation. This will be the sixteenth man I’ve set her up with. A small, unhelpful part of me suspects Isabelle enjoys dating too much to commit, and has no problem paying our matchmaking fees with her inherited fortune.
“He’s charmingly grumpy,” I tell her. “A man you need to draw out of his shell.”
The sigh on the other end tells me I’ve phrased it just right. “I can do that,” Isabelle says. “I’ll lure him right out. Can you imagine, a Winter? He can be as grumpy as he wants.”
That gives me pause. Vivienne knows all the families in New York, and yet she hadn’t told me anything about Anthony’s.
“Good,” I say, not sure if I want to encourage her way of speaking about him. “Best of luck with the date, Isabelle. And remember what we spoke about last time?”
“Oh, yes, Summer. Thanks for reminding me,” she says. “I’m so excited! And now I’m almost here! I’ll talk to you afterwards.”
I lower my phone and release the breath I’d been holding in. Anthony Winter and Isabelle Ashford. Not a bad set-up, even if she’s a serial dater. She’s a great example of the clients we have. Someone who’ll love to go on this date whether or not it actually ends up in… you know. Anything.
Petite, redheaded, an art gallery owner. Someone to match Anthony.
I hope.
He’s coming here for a debrief tomorrow, and I know I’ll be given a scathing review if I’ve misjudged this.
* * *
Isabelle calls again not fifty minutes later.
“Oh no…” I murmur, looking from my phone to Ace. Good first dates last a lot longer than this. “Hi, Isabelle.”
“It’s me,” she says.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear back quite so soon. Is the date over?”
“Yes, we cut it short. Although it didn’t feel short.”
I ask the next question with dread. “How did it go? First impressions?”
There’s a delicate pause, and Isabelle doesn’t do delicate. I grit my teeth.
“Well, he’s not very talkative, is he?”
“He’s definitely more of the strong, silent type,” I agree. “Which can be good, at times. It means he gives others more space to express themselves.”
“That’s true, Summer. I’m sure there are women who’d like that.” Another pause, and her words don’t need to be spoken to be heard. A woman who isn’t me. “He certainly has a lot of… well. He’s memorable, you know?”
“Sure is,” I say. No white lie there.
“I was willing to overlook the silent thing, the fact that I had to drag responses out of him. And oh, he had magnificent hands. Men sometimes do, and you know I like men’s hands. But even so…”
“Yes?”
“The thing is, Summer, I just can’t see myself dating a guy who collects dolls. I’m sorry. I know you’re so good at what you do and I always enjoy my dates, but this is a hard no for me. I didn’t know it was before I met him, so I suppose I learned that about myself tonight?” She laughs, once more the Isabelle I’d spoken to an hour ago. “So you can add that to my profile. Won’t date a guy who collects dolls.”
It takes me several moments to form words. “Anthony Winter… collects dolls?”
“Oh yes. It was the only subject he seemed passionate about. Porcelain ones, too.” Her voice drops an octave. “He said he has them all on display in his apartment. He’d just ordered a rare one from Russia. Had it flown here with its own attendant.”
“Christ,” I mumble.
“That’s what I thought too. You know, I’ve heard this before about some of the old New York families. Not about the Winters specifically, of course. But about others. They have their little quirks. Perhaps that’s what comes with too much time on your hands.” Isabelle laughs again.
“Yes, well, I suppose we all have to have hobbies. I’m sorry this date wasn’t a hit for you. I’d hoped it might be.”
“Oh, Summer, I don’t mind. Anthony’s older brother was in school with my brother, but I’d never spoken to him before. This was nice. Unexpected… but nice.”
“I’m glad you see it that way.”
“Absolutely. And you know what?” she says, voice turning optimistic. “Collecting dolls might be a wonderful pastime, for some. We shouldn’t pass judgement. Who knows? Without it he might have turned to hard drugs or liquor, or something.”
“Yes,” I say. “Quite.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Summer. Thanks for tonight.”
She hangs up with a cheery goodbye. Good to know nothing rocks Isabelle Ashford, not even being set up on a date with an adult man who apparently collects porcelain dolls.
When Anthony strolls in through Opate Match’s doors the next day, I’m ready for him. My professional smile has a knife’s edge to it.
His dark eyes meet mine. “Miss Davis.”
“Mr. Winter.”
“Is your aunt out of the office?”
I speak before Suzy can. “She is indeed, but she’ll be back shortly. Why don’t we head into my office? I can give you another overview of our clientele. You were so interested in it last time.”
His lips tug, a slight shift in the muscles. “All right.”
Ace makes it into my office before the door shuts. He sprawls on the carpet beneath my desk, his tail on one of my shoes and his head next to Anthony’s.
“I’m interested in the clientele?” Anthony asks. His gaze is fixed on me, penetrating in a way I refuse to let make me uncomfortable.
I knot my hands in front of me on the desk instead. I’d worn a blazer today and put my blonde hair into a high ponytail, all to feel more in control of this conversation.
“You’re sabotaging the bet,” I say. J’accuse, Winter.
Anthony raises an eyebrow. “Sabotaging the bet?”
“You collect porcelain dolls?”
“They have a separate room in my apartment,” he deadpans.
“You lied.”
He leans back in the chair. “Yes, I did.”
“That goes against the bet. If you’re to get the true Opate experience, you can’t deliberately undermine yourself on dates.”
“I have to be on my best behavior?”
“Yes. Don’t be anything other than what you are. If you keep sabotaging, well…”
“You won’t admit I won the bet fairly,” he says. “Is that it?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. I won’t sabotage any more of the dates.”
“Thank you.”
He leans forward, bracing his hands on the edge of my desk. They’re good hands, I admit. Perhaps I’m not Isabelle with a hand fetish, but… yes. Strong, broad across the back, with wide knuckles and long fingers. They’d probably feel amazing gripping your skin.
“Miss Davis,” he says.
I look up. “Yes.”
“For the record, I told her about my imaginary doll collection to end the date. It was clear to me that we wanted different things, and I didn’t want to lead her on.”
“Oh.”
“I won’t sabotage going forward, but once I’ve determined that the date won’t work out, I won’t waste these women’s time.”
“No, that’s good.” I nod. “I approve.”
Another ghost of a smile on his lips, even if it looks dusty, a seasonal item he rarely takes down from the attic. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“Just so I understand you better… what made it clear you two wouldn’t be a good fit?”
He glances from me to the pictures on the wall. The wedding pictures. I still can’t figure out why they intrigue him so much. “I could tell.”
“Right. Well, if you were to elaborate just a smidge?”
He sighs. “She was too serious.”
I just stare at him.
“What?” he asks, a bit testily.
“Nothing. No, that… makes sense,” I say. Isabelle was too serious? Anthony is the most serious person I’ve ever met.
“I’m available when you have decided on a second candidate,” he says.
I can’t help but smile at the phrasing. Candidate.
Here I’d thought Isabelle was a good attempt. She was from his own social circle, similar backgrounds, similar in age. But perhaps… Ciara. She’s a new client, young, who said she was looking for someone older and with a distinguished career.
While I might not approve, I can’t judge others’ motives. I’m just here to make connections.
“I think I have someone for you,” I tell him.