Cheyenne (The Women of Merryton Book 4)
Page 24
“Then let’s just live together.”
He shook his head. “I told you, you mean more to me than that.”
I knew that. I had tried that argument before. I don’t remember which time; I’d lost count of all the times he’d asked me. And I knew it was a no-go from the start.
“Cheyenne, why won’t you marry me?”
I pulled my hand away from his and stared at the blinding diamond catching the reflection of the setting sun. It felt good on my hand. It felt right.
He sat next to me on the stone bench and took my right hand, holding it with the tenderness he always showed me. My head naturally fell on his shoulder. “I love you.” See, I could say it without the prompting.
“I know, and we’re great together.”
“That’s the problem. We’re too good together.”
“I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Now you do.”
“I’m not sure what I can do about that.”
“I don’t want you to change. How can I trust you won’t?”
He turned enough to tip my chin up and peered into my eyes. “You can trust me.”
“I know. I don’t like it.”
He smiled before skimming my lips. “Say yes. I know someday I’m going to disappoint you and that will kill me, but I’m not going anywhere, and nothing would make me happier than you agreeing to be my wife.”
“I hate that I want to make you happy.”
He was used to hearing that and brushed right over it. “So, is that a yes?”
“First, you have to tell me what you do for a living.” I was still under the guise he was a spy.
A wicked smile spread across his face. He pulled me as close as he could and whispered in my ear.
Um. Wow. I could get on board with that. He was becoming more attractive by the second.
He lingered and kissed his way down my neck. “Marry me, Cheyenne.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Fine.”
Stay tuned for:
A Summer’s Intern: The Women of Merryton Prequel
&
The Daughters of Merryton
Preview
His Personal Relationship Manager –
Dating by Design: Book One
“So, let me get this straight. You’ve created a program that chooses the perfect mate for someone?”
I smiled, and refrained from sighing at the young male business reporter from Atlanta INtown. How many times had I been asked that question? I knew what I did for a living was, let’s say, a tad out of the ordinary. Okay … it was a lot out of the ordinary, but there was no denying its success. “The program is only part of the service we offer. That’s where we begin. Once we input each client’s personal data, it gives us an array of options, and from there we do more homework. For example, each one of our clients is required to go on one test date with a member of my staff before we ever set them up with another client. Purely platonic, of course.” I smiled slyly.
Bradly, the skeptical reporter, smirked. “Yes, of course. So how is the program you designed different from something like an online dating service?”
I stiffened in my very comfortable, yet highly stylish, leather office chair. “Besides the tailored and personal involvement, we pride ourselves on, it’s all in the algorithms.”
“Care to share what those are, Ms. Marshall?”
I smiled as if to say, what do you think? “That is strictly proprietary and well-guarded.”
He almost sneered. “And how much do you charge for your services again?”
“I would encourage people to call us, or better yet, come in for a free consultation.” I hated talking price. And the punk in front of me, who was barely out of junior college, would probably exaggerate it anyway. Or perhaps he would call it extortion money, like the last reporter I’d had in here. And really, did price matter? I had hundreds of happy clients, and not once had anyone ever asked for a refund.
“One last question.” His faux smile seemed more like a sneer. “Don’t you feel like what you do takes the romance out of it, maybe even cheapens the experience?”
I loved this question. I was well-versed in my answer. “Not at all. Most people’s problems center around relationships. What we are doing, through our tried and proven method, is giving them the best chance to find success in a romantic relationship and, dare I say, even love and marriage. In this day and age, we do research on everything from the best school to attend to the car we buy. Why not do the same for the most important decision of your life?”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, like perhaps he believed me. At least for a moment. “Does that mean you do the same for your relationships?”
“Time’s up.” I stood up and held out my hand to shake his.
He eyed me carefully before standing up and holding out his hand. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Marshall.”
“The pleasure was mine. Our receptionist, Meg, will validate your parking.” Without another word, I went back to work. I had more important things to do than talk to skeptical journalists. I’d had some new compatibility research come in and I wanted to include the data in my code before running the next batch of clients against it.
My partner in crime, Zander, popped his head in. Or should I say, Alexzander? He was so proud of his Greek name that meant “defender of mankind,” though he was neither Greek nor anywhere close to being foreign. He had grown up in the suburbs of Atlanta, like me, and looked like the all-American male. He even had a little bit of a Southern drawl.
“Hey, darlin’, how was the interview?”
I rolled my sable-colored eyes at him.
“Same as always, huh?”
“Well, at least this time he didn’t insult my intelligence by being surprised a woman developed the software we use, or call me a matchmaker.” I despised that word.
“Yes, I noticed he had all his limbs attached, and he wasn’t wailing.”
I shook my head. “I’m not that bad.”
He looked around our posh surroundings. “No, you’re that good.”
“I knew we were best friends for a reason. Now if only we could share clothes.”
“I’ve always wanted to see what you would like in one of my button-down dress shirts.”
“If I didn’t know you were kidding, I’d fire you.”
He laughed. “Oh, you can’t fire me, honey. No one else would put up with you. That, and I’m good at what I do. And you know you love me.”
He was right, I did love him in that brotherly sort of way. We had been friends for fifteen years—half our lives. Alexzander Grainger and I were lab partners in high school chemistry, but thankfully there hadn’t been any between us—chemistry that is. We did try kissing once when we were seniors, just to try it out. You know, to make sure we weren’t missing out on anything before we parted for higher education. And we weren’t. It was the most awkward kiss of all time. I mean, he was a good kisser, but it felt incestuous. We both decided to never mention it, until death do us part.
I opened the folder I needed on my computer. “So who are you ‘dating’ tonight?” He was the best of the best. He did a lot of the “platonic” dating of clients. He knew how to read women and weed through all the embellishments everyone puts in the surveys we ask them to fill out on their initial visit.
“No one. I’m taking the night off, remember? My old college roommate, Jason, recently moved to town and we’re having dinner to catch up. You should join us. I think the only two people I’ve ever considered real friends should meet. Besides, you look good on my arm.”
“I’m too tired to pretend I’m your girlfriend tonight. You’ll have to fight off all the ladies on your own.” And I knew there would be some. He wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but he had a presence that drew people to him, women in particular. His amazing algae-colored eyes that invited people in, paired with his wavy chestnut hair always done in this messy-yet-stylish look, not to mention his buff bod, made him desirable. Aga
in, it was why he was good at his job. That and he never planned to settle down, at least that’s what he always said. He had always claimed we would marry each other when we were too old to care about having a physical relationship, but he knew I was never walking down the aisle again.
He brushed off his tailored suit coat like he was put off by my refusal to be his pseudo-date. “Fine, the next time a man asks if you’re available, I’m going to say yes and give him your personal cell number.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He stood there smugly and dared me to call his bluff.
I didn’t say anything to him.
“You’re the best, Kenz. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress casual.” He walked out the double glass doors of my personal office into the loft-style suite.
I chucked my squeaky softball stress reliever at the door after him. I kept it on my desk especially for situations like this. He laughed when he heard the squeal of the ball when it made contact with the glass.
“I love you, Kenz,” he called out.
I needed to find some girlfriends, or maybe any friends besides him and my older brothers, Rick and Dylan. I let that thought quickly leave my head. I knew it wouldn’t end well.
I gathered my things and walked through the office toward the exit. The only sound to be heard was the click-clack of my stiletto heels on the wood floor. I was always the first one in and the last to leave. My momma encouraged me to get a life, a real one outside of work, but work was easy. And I had a life, just not the one she hoped I’d have. Sure, she was proud of me and my accomplishments, but she wanted me to have what she had. You know, a man who adored the ground I walked on and children who considered me the center of their worlds. But for me, that was never going to happen. My life was about making sure other people got the life they wanted, whatever it was.
For each client it was different. Some were looking for temporary companionship, or even a rebound—someone they could nurse a broken heart with, with no strings attached. Then there were the white-picket-fence people, and of course those who were looking for their perfect soulmate. And guess what? We could find someone for each scenario. We hadn’t failed yet. I turned to the wall of bliss for confirmation, and to revel in our success. Staring back at me were pictures of happy, smiling couples on their wedding day. The wall was becoming crowded. It gave me a sense of pride.
I looked around one last time, set the alarm, turned off the lights, and locked the door. Until tomorrow, I thought as I admired the sign on our entrance door that read, “Binary Search” with our tagline “Dating by Design” right under it. I gave myself such props for the company name. I thought it was quite clever to use a computer term to describe the kind of services we offered. It fit so perfectly. Some people didn’t get it, but it was so unique, as was what we did, that no one ever forgot it once they heard it.
I waved goodbye to Ellen, the owner of the building and event planning company that occupied the lower half of the building. We leased the top half from her. It was a perfect setup. We had struck a deal that anyone who got engaged using our services would get ten percent off if they used Ellen’s wedding planning services. In return for the referrals, we got cheaper rent.
She paused to talk to me on the way to her car. “I’m off to meet with Wayne and Julie.”
They were our most recent success story. I was pretty sure they were planning a fall wedding.
“Please tell them hello for me.”
“I do hope you’ll come to the wedding this time.”
I smiled without answering, as I always did when asked that question. I didn’t do weddings. I was happy to send a gift, wish them well, add them to my wall, but I never, ever accepted invitations to the actual ceremony. I could barely attend church with my momma without breaking out in hives. Too often weddings and churches go together. Don’t get me wrong, I was no heathen, I’ve always been a properly bred Southern woman. I just have a severe allergy to anything remotely related to wedding ceremonies. “Have a nice evening.” I waved at her.
She gave me a knowing grin and wished me the same.
Maybe if I were more social, Ellen and I could have been friends. Again, I let that thought slip right out of my head. I was settled with my life. I didn’t need or crave any more than I already had.
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About the Author
Jennifer Peel is the award-winning, bestselling author of the Dating by Design and Women of Merryton series, as well as several other contemporary romances. Though she lives and breathes writing, her first love is her family. She is the mother of three amazing kiddos and has recently added the title of mother-in-law with the addition of two terrific sons-in-law. She’s been married to her best friend and partner in crime for a lot longer than seems possible. Some of her favorite things are late night talks, beach vacations, the mountains, pink bubble gum ice cream, tours of model homes, and Southern living. She can frequently be found with her laptop on, fingers typing away, indulging in chocolate milk, and writing out the stories that are constantly swirling through her head.
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Books by Jennifer Peel:
Other Side of the Wall
The Girl in Seat 24B
Professional Boundaries
House Divided
Trouble in Loveland
How to Get Over Your Ex in Ninety Days
Paige’s Turn
Hit and Run Love A Magnolias and Moonshine Novella
Sweet Regrets
More Trouble in Loveland – Coming December 5, 2017
The Women of Merryton Series:
Boxed Set (Books One, Two, and Three)
Jessie Belle – Book One
Taylor Lynne – Book Two
Rachel Laine – Book Three
Cheyenne – Book Four
The Dating by Design Series:
His Personal Relationship Manager – Book One
Statistically Improbable – Book Two
Narcissistic Tendencies – Book Three – Coming Soon
The Piano and Promises Series:
Boxed Set (Books One, Two, and Three)
Christopher and Jaime – Book One
Beck and Call – Book Two
Cole and Jillian – Book Three
To learn more about Jennifer and her books, visit her website at www.jenniferpeel.com