Hare Today, Bear Tomorrow (Mating Call Dating Agency #1)(3)

“She’ll see you now,” Dora said. “Watch your head on that door, it’s... well, you’re...”

A deep-throated, rumbling laugh preceded the giant mountain of muscle that stooped through Eve’s door and stood by the chair in front of her desk. Without thinking about it, Eve’s eyes stretched wide and she stared at the visitor. “Sit?”

“Maybe not in that,” the big guy looked down at the office chair. “Mind if I grab that bench?”

Before she could tell him that it was an extremely heavy bench made out of English oak and pig iron, the giant plucked it effortlessly off the ground, moved the chair aside with his foot, and plunked the bench down. He sat, crossing his enormous hands on the desk top as he sat forward.

“Mr. Graves,” Eve said, and then cleared her throat. “H-how are you today?”

“Sore,” he said in a voice that Eve imagined would be at home in one of those giant heads on Easter Island. “Work was rough last night. Two shows, those nights are never fun.”

Nervously, she thumbed open his file and stared in disbelief. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m normally a lot more collected than this. It’s just—”

“People tend to be surprised when they see me. I guess that’s why I do what I do.”

“And what is it you do, exactly?” she asked. “This folder is remarkably bereft... devoid... uh... the folder’s pretty much empty.”

“I know what bereft means.” He drew his lips into a smile that stretched from ear to ear, showing off the magical little dimples in each of his cheeks. His dark blue eyes twinkled in just the way Dora told her they did, and the curly dark hair framing his face seemed perfectly imperfect.

“Sure,” she said. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. As for what I do, I collect baseball cards even though I know they’re worthless. I paint, I write bad poetry... I’m kind of a geek, honestly.”

Eve stared at the impossible specimen of a man in front of herself, and watched the muscles in his chest twitch when he repositioned his hands. She took note of what he’d said with a hand that shook more than it ever had before. “Okay,” she finally said, drawing a deep breath. “Cards, poetry,” she trailed off.

“I travel a lot too, though I’m looking to cut back on that. Life on the road is fun and all, but after twelve years of it, I’m getting tired.”

“Tired,” she said, “right. So what is it you’re tired of?”

“Travelling so much. Three hundred shows a year, that kind of thing. Really drives a guy nuts after a while. And anyway, I’ve been alone most of my life. Recently, most of my friends have been getting married, having kids, all that sort of thing.”

“Sure,” she said. “You’re feeling the mate clock ticking.”

He smiled in response, lines danced on his shoulders.

“How old are you, Mr. Graves?”

“Stacy,” he said.

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s Stacy. Stacy Graves. But there probably aren’t five people on earth that actually call me that.”

“I can’t imagine they’d have the balls,” Eve said, before clapping her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I—”

The laugh that came out of Stacy Graves’s mouth hit Eve with the force of a sonic boom. “I like you,” he said. “I’m thirty-five, seven times world champion, three tag championships, and a couple of years fighting in a circus which... well, let’s just say I’m not proud of everything I’ve done.”

“Hold on a second,” Eve said, feeling her blush subside. “World champion? At what? Tennis?”

Another blast of laughter. “Never was good at that.”

Something about his reticence to be direct with his profession made Eve quirk her head to the side. “Football? Boxing?”

He shook his head. “Look, I’d rather not get into that whole thing. It tends to color people’s perception of me, and to be honest, I sorta want to avoid that.”

“Well I need to know what your job is,” she said. “That’s one of the hundred-thousand things I use to make matches.”

Stacy Graves took a deep breath. “Ever hear of this guy?” he pulled the phone out of his side pocket and pulled up a video. Eve gasped as a mountain of a man walked down an aisle, through four jets of pyrotechnical effects, and emerged on the other side. He jumped up onto the apron of a ring of some sort, and proceeded to manhandle a flamboyantly dressed opponent.

She was shaking her head. “Is that guy dead?” She winced as the monolith in black trunks delivered a horrifying looking body slam and then pinned the other.

“Frank? Nah, he’s one of my best friends. That guy can take a hit with the best of ‘em. Hell, one time he hit me with a bell and—you know, let’s save that.”

“You’re a professional wrestler?” Eve said, the corners of her mouth twitching in a mixture of excitement, confusion and awe.

“Like I said, seven time world champ. This isn’t going to hurt my chances with your agency, is it? People think of us like circus freaks sometimes and that’s—”

Eve shook her head. “It’s awesome,” she said. “Of all the folks that have walked through that door, and all the ones I’ve imagined coming to get help with finding a mate, never in my entire life have I...” she cleared her throat to regain her composure. “Yes, right, so now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, I guess we can move along with things.”