The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(29)

Samson swayed toward her, his concerned frown so real and authentic she wished she could believe that anyone cared that much about past Rhiannon. “What kind of rumors?”

“Not important.” When he looked like he might press, she played on his empathy. “I don’t like to think about it or talk about it. In any case, my name isn’t totally blemish-free. So I wondered if Annabelle had heard those whispers, if that’s why she wasn’t responding to me and I . . . I took some more drastic measures than I otherwise would have.”

He studied her for a long minute. She didn’t mind his hesitation. Whether he did owe her or not, she was also asking him to trust her.

With his aunt. What pure luck, stumbling upon Annabelle’s nephew.

“Annabelle isn’t the type of person to believe rumors if she hasn’t met someone yet. And she’s not technically my aunt. She’s more of a common-law aunt,” he said, finally. “She and my uncle Joe were together for almost forty years.”

“I didn’t know she had a long-term partner.” Lakshmi was good at ferreting out information, too, so it must have been super well-hidden.

“No reason you would have. Annabelle’s always been private. To answer your question as to why we weren’t staying in her home: my uncle and I lived in my childhood home.” He squinted at her. “What interest is Matchmaker to you? Aren’t you outperforming us?”

Us. He might have only a small financial stake in Matchmaker, but he felt proprietary toward it. She filed that away in her little box of red flags, though she’d already decided to proceed as though Samson was a competitor. “I want to outperform everyone,” she said mildly. Which wasn’t a lie. She didn’t have to tell him how badly she wanted to crush Swype, specifically. “Give me twenty minutes with her. Lunch, dinner, coffee, whatever she wants. Let her hear me out, and then if she’s not interested, I’ll vanish.” Rhiannon snapped her fingers. “I only want a shot. That’s all.” Stop. She was coming perilously close to begging, and she wasn’t about that.

He hesitated and looked out at the lush greenery. “I don’t think Aunt Belle’s in a rush to sell Matchmaker, but to be honest, we haven’t exactly discussed it.”

Rhiannon tugged her sweatshirt down over her hands so she could stick her thumbs into the holes. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but what if he demanded something in return for this favor? Another date, or a kiss, or sex. She’d have to be ready for him to be awful. A dozen snappish retorts rose on her tongue.

“You know what? I don’t see the harm of an introduction. Okay.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll ask her if she’ll meet with you.” He leveled a stern look her way. “But like I said, she’s private, so anything I’ve told you about her relationship with me or Joe isn’t for public consumption. And if she does meet with you, you will treat her kindly and fairly. No hardball business tactics. Aunt Belle is a sweet woman and she’s lost her sister and her partner in the same year. She might be an entrepreneur, but there’s a reason she leaves the actual running of the company to others.”

Don’t get too excited. He could flake on you. “No hardball,” she said quickly. “I know you may have heard differently, but I promise I play fair.”

“The only things I’ve heard about you, Rhiannon, have been admiring.”

She licked her dry lips. If she thought too hard about what Peter might still be saying about her, she might pull her sweatshirt hood up over her head and never come back out. She nodded. “Okay. Well. Thanks.”

“It’s the least of what I owe you.”

Yes, good. That’s how you want him to feel, like he owes you.

Now, though, the thought of him feeling indebted to her left a bad taste in her mouth. She knew grief. She’d been too young when she’d lost her father, but she had experienced loss.

The last of that knot eased up in her chest. “You don’t owe me anything,” she said gruffly. “Consider our past in the past. We’re colleagues now.”

His eyes darkened, and he took a step closer. She felt small and dainty with him so close. “Colleagues,” he murmured.

“Competitors, actually, I guess.”

“Mm.”

“Samson?”

They both looked toward the restaurant, where Tina was standing in the door, her hands on her slim hips. “We’re ready for you,” she called out.

So his date was here. Cool.

“Good luck,” Rhiannon said to him. She took a step back, then realized she didn’t want to walk through the restaurant and see the woman.

Kind, loyal, sweet.

She had no designs on Samson, that part of their relationship was finito, explanation or not, but better to not know what his ideal woman looked like.

“Thanks,” he murmured, though he didn’t sound enthused.

She spotted a gate in the garden and gestured at it. The path should allow her to circumvent the building and get to the front drive. “I’ll go. Let me know when you talk to Annabelle.”

“Do you want to stay? This won’t take long, and—”

“Nah, it’s getting late, and, uh . . .” She had a vast repertoire of excuses on how to get out of a date, but her mind blanked. “My cat’s sick.”