Read Almost Matched (Almost Bad Boys) for Free Online Page A

I yawn and stretch. “Not a big deal. Ali and I rarely work past five p.m. We keep regular office hours.”  
    “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jena returns from the kitchen. “Where are we going? Blue Fin?”
    “Blue Fin it is!” Ali is first to the door.  
    I have a pretty good idea behind Ali’s reason. The reason is in the shape of the cute bartender.  
     

 

     
    FOUR
    “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.”
    William Shakespeare.
     
    It’s Saturday afternoon, and I just woke up from a nap. I look at Colin’s business card in my hand, deep in thought, contemplating the possibilities. Not really the good possibilities, but mostly the crazy-ass ones. I feel the weight of my past relationships, and all the baggage I’ve been left with. The guys I’d dated were mostly weird like Lee, who failed to mention that he preferred men, but wanted to experiment , as he admitted after the fact. That experiment left me puzzled, especially when he decided (and said so) that I was worthless in bed. Yeah, well, forgive me for not growing a dick on demand.  
    A few had a mean streak like Ray The Asshole or Marc The Nutcase Banker; some of the guys only wanted to have a one-nighter. Maybe that wouldn’t be too bad under the circumstances. But they made me feel used and discarded by not being honest up front, like Let’s-Screw-Fast-And-Move-On Ted. And then there was Rich. Ah, yes, the guy I fell for head over heels. Rich actually was married but never admitted it until I ran into him and his wife at the Flying Fish restaurant on Lake Union. Am I a total jerk magnet? So far I’ve been exclusively the asshats’ playground.  
    Ugh, have I ever dated a normal, nice guy? I don’t expect a lot. I just want someone who’s genuinely interested in me; someone who wants to hang out without the drama, lies, and deceit. Is that too much to ask? Or maybe I live in the wrong city—maybe Seattle is full of dickheads? Nah. Statistically speaking, that’s not possible. You can’t generalize the whole freakin’city.  
    The reality is ridiculous. I co-own executive dating company. A successful executive dating company. I match tons of professionals every month. I get thank-you cards and even gifts from the happy couples who would never have met if it wasn’t for me or my business partner Ali. But my private dating life totally sucks.  
    So now what? Should I call Colin? I don’t want to deal with yet another disappointment though. What if he’s just like the guys from my past? Is Ali onto something when she suggests that I find a sex buddy? As much as that idea makes sense, I’m not the right material. I’m not like Ali or Jena. No, I’m more like Caroline—romantic and sentimental. Or am I?
    I put the card down, look at the phone, open my laptop, close it, and pick up the card again. “Ugh. Effin’ shit!” I slam my hand on the kitchen counter. That hurts. I slump down, resting my head over my fists, elbows propped on the counter.  
    “But what if I fall for this one too?” I ask my mom’s picture stuck to the refrigerator door in the middle of many other snapshots. “I don’t want to go through this again. I don’t want to be a mess.”
    Mom just keeps grinning at me from the photograph, a glass of red wine in hand. A man’s arm wraps around her shoulders, and although the rest of his body isn’t visible, I know it’s my dad. We rarely spend any time together, since they travel excessively, always flying somewhere, or going on a cruise. I wish I could call them right now and see what they say. But they’re somewhere on the coast of Costa Rica, so I don’t even want to bother. If I only had a sibling—a sister—maybe things would be easier to manage.
    My parents’ words of wisdom are just what I would welcome now, because I already know my girlfriends’ advice. It’s always pretty much the same—Ali and Jena: what are you obsessing over? Go for it, girl. Have fun. Caroline: I