The Right Swipe (Modern Love, #1)(7)

Claire. If that was her real name. He’d googled Claire + Los Angeles after she’d unmatched him and discovered quickly what a fool’s errand that was.

Annabelle shrugged. “I did not, sorry. Who was she?”

He puffed out his cheeks, trying to swallow his disappointment. “Someone I knew. Or thought I knew.” He looked at his feet. “It’s not important.”

“Someone you knew . . .” Her eyebrows rose. “Biblically?”

His face turned red-hot. He’d forgotten that Aunt Belle’s sweet, matronly facade hid a blunt tongue. “Aunt Belle.”

“Ah,” she clucked. “I know that tone. I said something an old lady shouldn’t.”

“You said something an aunt shouldn’t.”

“I never made an honest man out of Joe, so I’m not technically your aunt.”

Not for lack of trying on Joe’s part. But Annabelle had been adamant about maintaining her independence, even to the point of keeping a separate residence. “Still my aunt.”

She adjusted her silly hat. A tendril of bright red hair fell out of the black lace and touched her round cheek. “Always your aunt.”

Samson’s spirits rose, his natural response around Belle.

She’s why you’re here. You’re not here to chase a ghost from your past. He shoved his hands into his pockets, the silent hallway far too loud. “You know what? Let’s get back to the party. I’ve barely had a chance to meet anyone.”

“You did your part, Samson. If you want to go up to your room and rest, you can.”

He wasn’t even close to doing his part. He owed Aunt Belle, and not only because she’d been his emotional bulwark since Uncle Joe had passed. “Nah.”

“One shouldn’t do anything that doesn’t serve them.”

“You’re paying me. Trust me, it serves me.”

Annabelle pursed her rosebud lips. Joe had used to call her cute, an adjective she hadn’t loved, but there was no other way to describe her. She was cute.

“You always were such a disciplined boy.” Annabelle’s smile was sly. “You must be really interested in this girl to let her lead you away from your job.”

Uh-oh.

Annabelle wasn’t entirely rational when it came to her business or love. He had no doubt Annabelle was genuinely hopeful something romantic would come of this, like he’d match with someone during the course of the campaign and fall madly in love with her.

A connection like that felt as far away as the moon to Samson. He’d sailed through life flirting with long-term relationships but never quite landing in one.

What would you have done if you’d caught your Cinderella then? After you profusely apologized?

He had no idea, like he hadn’t known what had driven him to ask her out on a second date to begin with. He was all reaction when it came to her.

It was best he hadn’t caught her, he supposed. “Nah. It may not have even been the woman I’m thinking of,” he lied.

“Maybe you’ll see her again. It’s a small world, you know.” Aunt Belle patted his arm.

The burst of pleasure at that thought was way out of proportion, but he embraced it.

“Tina gave you your agenda, right?” Aunt Belle fell into step beside him as they walked back the way they’d come.

“She did, yes.” Samson wasn’t sure he was going to be able to sleep tonight, which was a problem. He had a full day tomorrow. He’d told Matchmaker to utilize him as much as possible, which meant leveraging whatever infamy or fame he had attached to his name to promote Matchmaker. This was a big conference, covered by a good amount of media.

So big, he didn’t understand why Aunt Belle had pushed herself to even attend, let alone commit to so many things. Perhaps because Jennifer had usually handled all this stuff? But Jennifer and Annabelle had taken care of two very different sides of Matchmaker’s business.

“William said you have an interview tomorrow, right? Do you think you’ll be well enough for that?” He didn’t judge her for not getting up on that stage, but he did worry she might have set herself up for more anxiety than she needed.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.” Belle waved his concern away, a slight blush telling him she didn’t want to talk about her anxieties. “Is there anything else you need?” She dropped her voice. “Has anyone been mean to you about your past?”

He patted her back and pasted on a smile he didn’t feel. “No, Aunt Belle. Everyone’s been really nice so far. I’m good.”

Annabelle’s nose wrinkled before she lowered her veil. “You return to the party if you truly want to, but I’m retiring for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m so proud of you, darling. Thank you for all your help.”

Warmth spread through his chest. He accepted a hug and kiss from Annabelle and watched her walk away before he turned to head back to the ballroom, a smile pasted on his face. No one would be able to guess how fake it was.

He was here for a reason. He had a purpose. And it had nothing to do with the beautiful, furious woman who had run from him. Again.





Chapter Three


HE’D SMILED at her.

That motherfucker.

Rhiannon fought the urge to curl her lip, for fear that the makeup artist might think it was directed at her. The poor girl didn’t deserve snarling, especially when she was working so hard to disguise the dark under-eye circles that were a testament to how little Rhiannon had slept the night before, tossing and turning in her posh hotel’s luxury bedding.