Dear Double Team
The Matchmaker Series
Olivia Hawthorne
Contents
BLURB
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Matchmaker Series Short Stories
Also by Olivia Hawthorne
Book Hangover Lounge
About the Author
Sneak Peaks
Copyright © Dear Mr. Double Team, a Matchmaker Short Story, 2019
by Olivia Hawthorne
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BLURB
Blythe Orion: I lived my entire life online.
Twenty four-seven I had cameras and an entourage following me, recording me, growing my brand as one of the most successful models on Instagram.
I was tired though, I had millions in the bank, I was surrounded by adoring fans and I was called the most beautiful woman in the world.
But I didn’t have love. I felt like nobody really knew me.
A chance at an old fashioned matchmaking felt too good to be true, but I thought I’d give it a try.
What’s the worst that could happen? I’d have a cool Instagram story and something to blog about.
I never thought I’d lose my heart and find myself and what that would mean for my brand.
And I never could have imagined I’d get two for the price of one, but when I met Harrison and James Manchester, how could I possibly choose?
Why not have both?
Chapter One
“Dear Double Team,” I wrote on the page, but my handwriting looked terrible. I balled it up and tossed it into the trashcan and started all over again.
“Dear Double Team,” I started again. “Thank you for your letter. Please excuse my handwriting, it’s terrible. I don’t think we learned cursive in school, it was all about typing and texting.”
I paused again, read it and hated it.
How could it be that I ran a social media empire based on my Instagram modelling and makeup tutorials, and yet I couldn’t write an old fashioned letter to a possible love match.
Why was I even doing this?
Ugh, now that’s a story on its own.
I had been the number one earner on Instagram for a few years and I’ll admit, it got to me. It went straight to my head.
I had fans fawning all over me and my entourage was tight.
So I believed.
But my position had started to slip, and by the time I hit number two on Instagram I was getting worried.
I got an agent, Gail, who set me up with musician Gavin Pierce. I thought if I could manufacture a hot, torrid romance with a rock god then I could get a little bit more of the spotlight.
But he’d rejected me.
And things had begun to go off the rails after that.
I somehow hung onto the two position for the months that followed but it was getting to me, the constant pressure.
It turned out the more I stressed, the less my friends seemed to want to support me.
And my long term on again and off again boyfriend Nicholas Tovin had finally left me to pursue his dream of club promotion in Ibiza.
So, finding myself alone and struggling, I jumped at the chance to try something new.
An old fashioned matchmaking service.
My one true friend in the world, Sophie, had found it for me.
It was all done completely offline. I had to fill in a questionnaire and mail it to the agency, What the Heart Wants.
The matchmaker, Grace Graham, had taken a couple of weeks and sent me the good news just yesterday.
She had the perfect man for me. She assured me she had carefully matched us based on traits, desires, and some things she didn’t quantify.
Things like the ‘vibe’ she got when she thought of us together.
It was a long shot, but it was fun and the worst that could happen would be that I’d end up with a few videos of the disaster.
The best would be…well, love.
I decided to complete restart my letter all over again.
Grace’s letter hadn’t told me much about my match at all. Just that it was unconventional and she thought it would be exactly what I was looking for.
What I needed.
I had to trust her, so I shook my shoulders to ease my tension, checked the lock on my bedroom door and began to write again.
Dear Double Team,
This feels odd, writing a complete stranger a letter hoping for a love match. But I suppose we’re in the same boat. You signed up for this too, so hello.
I know this is supposed to be an introduction letter, but I think I’d rather leave the getting to know you part for the actual face to face meeting.
I’m used to living online, keeping my posts succinct and catchy, but in this situation I’m afraid words have escaped me.
I’m young, have been told I’m beautiful, and I’m lonely.
Are we even allowed to admit that anymore?
I’m surrounded by people but I need a partner.
Somebody I can truly share myself with, my life and my heart.
If this is something you’re interested in, get back to me.
Please, let’s not play games. Leave that for the online realm.
Eagerly awaiting your reply,
Ms. Tweets A Lot
I read it again and liked it. It felt like me.
I folded the paper, put it in the addressed envelope Grace had sent with her instructions, and unlocked my door.
“Macy,” I called my assistant. She scurried through the beachfront vacation home and made it to my side in seconds flat.
“Yes?” she asked, her urgent need to please me almost irritating if she wasn’t so adorably good at her job.
“Mail this please. Make sure it goes in express.”
I handed her the bright red envelope and looked at her, daring her to comment on what I could possibly be sending by post.
But she didn’t, she really was good at her job.
I watched her hurry back through the house and decided to join my friends by the pool.
I had a few Instagram posts to put up today. God knows my followers got anxious if I was away from my phone for more than an hour or so.
As much as I loved the attention and the revenue stream of being a social media star, I craved a simple life somehow.
Somewhere I could hide out from the world with that special someone.
Would it end up being Double Team?
I knew nothing about him, including the origin of his mysterious name…but I couldn’t wait to find out.
Chapter Two
“The sun is too bright here, let’s go into the shade so it doesn’t wash out your tan,” my friend Veronica told me as I tried to take another selfie for my account.
We were vacationing in Malibu, in the beach house I’d bought with my first year of being the top earner on Instagram.
“You’re right,” I replied. “I need a better phone, this one is six months old and the camera already feels outdated.”
We walked to a chaise lounge away from the sunshine and I tried again.
And I nailed it.
&
nbsp; I typed, “Sun and luxury. #Blessed.” I uploaded it to my account and laid back, allowed a moment of relaxation before my next photo op.
“You work so hard at this,” Veronica said.
Betty, beside her, bobbed her head in agreement.
They were my Riverdale girls, as I called them. Veronica was a brunette with blue-black hair, and Betty was an all American blonde…just like a comics and the TV show.
I had a few other friends who regularly hung around as well, but right now it was the two of them who were my main entourage.
“Mail call,” Macy called out and walked across the pool deck in her tightly tailored suit. She was always a professional even when I told her she could relax and go for a swim. She was wound pretty tight, but she helped me focus so I didn’t mind it too much.
“What’s that?” Betty asked, her blue eyes widening at the oversized bright red envelope that had been returned to me.
Two days turn around, not too bad. At least I knew Double Team was just as eager as I was.
“Nothing,” I replied. “I’m going to take a nap.”
I snatched the envelope from Macy’s hand and rushed to my bedroom. I closed my door, flopped onto the bed and slowly opened the envelope.
My heart was actually pounding as I pulled the letter out, and I thought I was going to faint when I caught the faint scent of masculine musk. Expensive cologne.
“Oh god, he’s perfect already,” I groaned and giggled to myself at how silly I was acting. Like I was in seventh grade again and Brody O’Donnell was sitting in front of me, sending my girl hormones into a fluttering panicked whirlwind whenever he talked to me.
I carefully opened the letter and immediately loved the long, confident strokes of the pen across the page.
His writing was perfection.
Dear Ms. Tweets A Lot,
I understand your problem with this format. I’m also not used to writing about myself.
Talk about awkward.
I know we’re supposed to write three letters before we meet in person, but could I ask where you live? I would like to meet you as soon as possible, so let’s make this happen.
As for me in particular, I’m a successful man with a penchant for beautiful women. I have unusual circumstances that have thus far prevented a long term relationship.
Still interested?
Also eagerly awaiting your reply,
Double Team
PS Tell me more about you. Who are you? I want to know everything.
My hand shook with excitement and intrigue.
What could this unusual circumstance possibly be?
I wrote him back immediately and let him know that I was on the West Coast but I was able to meet anywhere he needed me to be.
I wasn’t normally so pliant when it came to dating, I generally liked to make them come to me.
I added some more, details about my life and childhood. And even a few things about my hopes and dreams. Stuff I hadn’t really told that many people, but writing it all down made it feel more like a diary than a revelation.
I didn’t know why I was spilling my heart out on the page for this stranger, but something about his handwriting and that scent intrigued me.
I needed to meet him or my curiosity was going to kill me.
* * *
The final letter arrived the day before I decided to head back to Los Angeles.
I’d expected another delay of a couple days but this one was couriered by hand overnight.
We’d gone over the three letters by then, the speed we were exchanging them helped a lot, and this would be number five.
The courier stood anxiously in the foyer of the beach house and said, “I was told to wait until you could send something back.”
He was young, a surfer type, and a little start struck when he realized he was standing in Blythe Orion’s house.
He didn’t need to say it, I knew that look anywhere.
“What is going on?” Veronica demanded and reached for the bright red envelope in my hand.
I jerked my hand away and said, “Nothing. None of your business,” before I rushed to the solitude of my bedroom.
His letter was incredible.
His writing was the same confident, masculine arches and hastily scribbled cursive as before.
And again, that scent clung to the envelope and drove me wild.
But his words were incredible.
He seemed to be in synch with everything I believed about life and everything I hoped for in the future.
He was funny, open and brilliant.
And no matter what he looked like, he was unbelievably hot because of his wit and intelligence.
I felt myself falling even a little farther in…like with him.
I wrote a letter back, telling him even more about myself. I shared my most embarrassing moment from high school, sitting in chocolate pudding while wearing a white skirt so I’d been called Queen Poop for the following four years.
And I even told him about where I wanted to get married, in Thailand on my favorite little deserted beach.
I couldn’t believe how easy it was to open up when it was on paper, it just felt so natural.
I finished the letter, kissed it at the bottom, and slipped it into the envelope.
I took some photos, I’d been documenting the whole thing so far just in case I decided to make it public at some point.
Then I went back, handed the envelope to the courier and watched as he left on a mountain bike.
I bit my lower lip and put my hand on my stomach to quell the shivering sensation threatening to leave me breathless.
“Blythe, seriously where are you?” Veronica called and I heard the loud smattering of laughter back out by the pool.
We’d invited a bunch of people over and I had to go play hostess to the crowd of drinking revelers.
Normally I would love it, but just then I would have given anything to have a quiet moment by the infinity pool overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Just me, the waves, and thoughts of Double Team in my head.
But I was a party girl at heart, and even though the next letter would outline where and when I would finally meet the match Grace had hand selected for me, there was fun to be had.
I wrapped my sarong around my hips and adjusted my tiny bikini top before I strolled out into the afternoon, surrounded by friends and people, distracting myself from thoughts of falling in love and a man I never knew existed until Grace Graham decided we should meet.
Chapter Three
It kind of worked. Sort of. I partied like a rock star.
Speaking of rock stars, Gavin Pierce showed up with his fiancé, Chloe somebody.
I wanted to dislike her after the press had made such a big freaking deal over him and I supposedly breaking up and her being the better choice for him.
That stupid incident had taken months to recover from, and I was glad we could still be friends.
All of us.
Because I did want to dislike her but she was awesome. There was no way to hate on a woman like her.
I had to admit after a few drinks I was jealous of the obvious love between them.
“I want that,” I admitted to Betty at some point in the evening. The sun had just gone down and the clouds were still painted pink and orange.
It was the perfect time for a selfie.
So her and I snapped it, I uploaded it, and we kept talking.
“Me too, he’s sooooo hot,” she said, practically salivating.
I laughed. “I don’t mean him, I mean that. The love. It must feel so nice to have somebody who supports you and loves you like that.”
Betty shook her head. “Nope, I just want him. Look at those abs.”
I pushed her playfully. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re apparently a romantic. I never saw that one coming,” she said, growing serious. “We’re too young to find true love right now though, aren’t we?”
“Life moves fast, before we know i
t we’ll hit thirty and then it’s game over from there,” I replied.
She looked stricken with worry for a moment, then grinned and sipped her cocktail. “Oh well, I guess I’ll just keep banging hotties even as I get older and older.”
I giggled and we kept it up, talking like that.
At some point we were really drunk and I found myself grinding some guy on the impromptu dance floor next to the pool.
He had his arms around me and I was moving to the music, our bodies in motion together.
His hard cock pressed against my ass and it was a delicious sensation.
All of a sudden another man joined us, dancing close to me from the front.
And as much as loved the way it felt, being sandwiched between two muscled hot men, I was freaked out.
I didn’t know them, and I was in front of all my friends.
I couldn’t have those kinds of pics being leaked on Instagram.
I was too drunk, too horny, and too lonely for this.
So I twirled in the first guy’s arms and flitted away from the two of them.
I made it to my room, locked the door and flopped backwards onto the bed.
The room was swimming and my head was filled with confused desire.
I’d liked it, being between two men like that.
I’d really, really liked it.
But I wasn’t that kind of girl, I was young and fun but not a slut. How could I ever face Double Team if the word got out that I was having a gang bang orgy at my beach house anyhow?
“Ohhhh Double Team,” I groaned drunkenly and fished around my nightstand for the letters.
I pulled them out and smelled them, the scent of his musk clinging to them even now.
Dear Double Team: The Matchmaker Series Page 1
