An Unlikely Match (The Match Series - Book #1) (6 page)

Anthropology was a bitch.

o o o o

Amelia and Morgan
muscled the sofa into the condo just as the first fat raindrops splatted down on the deck outside. The sun had disappeared an hour ago, and the cloudy evening was quickly turning into a very dark night. Amelia’s T-shirt and shorts were sweat-stained from their vigorous scrubbing and damp from the overspray of the hose. Morgan didn’t seem to have fared much better.

“You probably should have changed into something more casual,” she noted, taking in his
gold plaid shirt and pleated navy shorts.

He glanced down. “These are
as casual as it gets.”

“
You don’t have a faded Angels T-shirt? A pair of sweat shorts or cutoffs?”

“Not really. Why?”

“No reason.”

His wardrobe was none of her business.

To change the subject, she glanced around at her new furniture. It didn’t completely ruin the room. And at least she’d finally have something to sit on.

“I’d
like to offer you a glass of wine as a thank-you,” she told him, making her way to the breakfast bar that separated the dining area from the kitchen nook. She lifted the low-price bottle of California merlot she’d picked up this morning. “But I realize I don’t have a corkscrew.”

“Maybe we can get creative.” Morgan followed behind her. “What else do you have?”

“Other than wine?”

“
I was thinking kitchen implements other than a corkscrew.”

She didn’t have
much. She gestured to her kitchen drawers, inviting him to have a look.

He pulled open a top drawer
. She knew it was empty. Then he pulled open another and another. He gave her a look of amazement as he started on the cupboards. They were mostly empty, too.

“How do you cook?” he asked,
obviously giving up on the mission.

“I have a blender. I make a great smoothie.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been living on smoothies the entire week.”

“Okay.
I won’t tell you that. But they are packed with nutrition.”

In response h
e snagged the wine from the counter and headed for the patio door. “Change your clothes and come on over to my house, where I live like an adult.”

“Hey,” she protested
to his retreating back. “That was a low blow.”

“You have no forks, Amelia
,” he called over his shoulder. “This may sound like I’m bragging, but I have cutlery, plates and glasses.”

“How old are you?” she demanded.

He stopped and turned. “I’m twenty-seven.”

“Yeah?
Well, I’m twenty-two. Come and talk to me in five years about my kitchen utensils.”

He cracked a grin, and she couldn’t help noticing the way it lit up his blue eyes
, even hidden as they were behind his outdated glasses. “You’re planning to get more organized with age.”

“I am,” she
said. She’d only been out of college for a week. These things took time.

He waggled the bottle. “I have
crystal stemware. And I’ll grill you a burger. The buns are fresh, the lettuce crisp.”

Her stomach rumbled to life.
She did not have the power to say no to his offer.

“I picked up some cupcakes at
Earl’s Bakery this morning,” he added, naming a legendary, high-end establishment.

“Chocolate?” she couldn’t
stop herself from asking.

“Red velvet, with buttercream icing.”

She swallowed in anticipation. “I’m in.”

“Put on something dry and come on over. The door will be open.”

Before he’d even left, she was scampering up the stairs. She knew she should have been the one feeding him after all his help today, but the prospect of a burger and a cupcake obliterated her guilt. And at least she was providing the wine. Though perhaps, under the circumstances, she should have spent more than eight dollars on the bottle.

S
he stripped off her wet clothes and washed her face and hands. She pulled on a fresh pair of panties. Then she dropped a slim, aqua T-shirt dress over her head, topping it with a cropped white cardigan. She combed out her hair and pushed up the sleeves of the sweater.

When she paused at the mirror, her eyes looked peculiar. They had
an unusual glow, reflecting the light, giving her the urge to stroke on a little mascara, maybe add some lipstick. She was reaching for her makeup drawer when she stopped herself. What was she thinking? This wasn’t a date. Good grief, this was two neighbors grilling up burgers after scrubbing the cooties off a butt-ugly couch. It didn’t get any less romantic than that.

She
marched out of the bathroom without changing a thing, crossing the small yard and stepping over the fence.

S
he slid open the glass door to find Morgan’s living room and kitchen empty. Almost immediately, she heard his footsteps on the staircase as he came down to join her.

In the few seconds she was
alone, she glanced around the unfamiliar rooms. The floor plan was the exact opposite of her own, a little disorienting at first. But the living room was warm and welcoming, decked out with a big leather couch and a matching armchair.

Low, oak tables held
ceramic lamps, textbooks and stacks of coasters. Behind the sofa, he’d hung a painting of a yellow floatplane landing on a wilderness lake at sunset. The other decorations were family photographs on a small bookshelf beside the dining table, which held a laptop and stacks of paper. She couldn’t help thinking he really was a grownup.

“
Got the wine opened,” Morgan announced as he entered the room.

He was dressed in a
pair of navy slacks. He’d switched to a long-sleeved cotton shirt. This one was gray and white checkerboard plaid. Not quite as bad as some of his outfits. His glasses were perched on his nose as usual, and that shaggy, unstyled hair made him look like a wacky professor.

“
That’s great news,” she said. “What can I do to help?”

“If you pour the wine, I’ll light the barbecue. Glasses are above the
fruit basket.”

A
melia located a pair of long-stemmed glasses and poured a measure of wine into each of them. Then she carried her drink into the living room, sipping while she gazed at Morgan’s family pictures.

“My mom and sisters,” he explained as he retrieved his own glass.

“You were the youngest,” she
said, looking at a formal portrait of the four.

His mother was beautiful,
with long dark hair and a big smile. His older sisters were both blonde. They looked to be nine or ten, while Morgan looked about four.

“They’re
my step-sisters. When my mom got married, I was two. Terri and Carmen were six and eight.”

“Where’s your step-dad?”

“He died six months after the wedding. They knew he had cancer when they got married.”

Amelia’s eyes tingled
, and she blew out a breath. “That’s so incredibly sad.”

“
I was too young to remember anything. But, yeah, I can only imagine how difficult it was for Mom. But she was great with all of us.”

“
How’s she doing now?”

Morgan paused to sip his wine. “Good.
She’s closer with the girls than she is with me. She was also raised by a single mother. But she tracked down her father a couple of months ago, a military man who had a one-night stand with her mother.”

Amelia was
intrigued. “She never knew him?”

“Never knew him
at all.”

She smiled.
“What about your biological father?”

Morgan reached out and straightened the picture. “I
don’t hold it against her. It was spring break in Big Sur, and she forgot to get his last name.”

“You ever look for him?”

“I used to think about it when I was a kid. But if Mom doesn’t want to find him, I’m fine with that.”

Amelia wasn’t sure what to make of that answer. “You don’t find yourself curious?”

Morgan gave a thoughtful shake of his head. “She went to a lot of trouble to find her grandfather, but she never seemed to want to look for my biological father. I think he might not be the greatest of guys.”

“Bad boy on a Harley?”
After all, it had been spring break.

“Or a
slimy little thief.”

“
Morgan, did you take a good look at your mom?”

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t sleep with some slimy, little thief on spring break. I’m goin’ with a sexy bad boy on a Harley.”

“Probably a stolen Harley.”

Amelia couldn’t help but grin. “I guess no family is perfect.”

“
Tell me about your imperfect family?” Morgan gestured toward the sofa.

Accepting his invitation, she sat down at one end.
She kicked off her flat sandals and curled into its inviting softness.

“
I have an older brother, Devlin,” she began. “He’s twenty-eight, restores and sells vintage cars. He has a big shop in Arizona. My dad is in real estate. And my mom owns a flower shop. Chocolates and gifts too, but mostly flowers.”

Morgan settled into the big armchair. “Did you have a dog?”

“A golden retriever. Bubbles. We lost her two years ago while I was at school.” It was hard for Amelia to get used to Bubbles being gone. She still half expected to see the old girl whenever she went home.

“Bubbles?”
Morgan asked on a chuckle.

“They let me name her. I was only seven.”

“Remind me not to let you name anything of mine.”

“
I’m much better at it now.”

“You must be aware that
your family sounds perfect.”

She shook her
head in denial. “We’re not. Well, I’m not, anyway. I’m flighty and impractical.”

He didn’t argue with the statement, and she found herself giving an inward sigh.

“Take my education,” she continued. “My family would have preferred I become a teacher, or a pharmacist, or maybe an architect. Nobody’s thrilled that I want to go into acting.”

“How exactly does one go into acting?”
He might think she was flighty, but he seemed genuinely interested in her career choice.

“
There are a lot of different ways to approach it,” she told him. “You do up a résumé, list yourself on websites, try to get an agent, go to open casting calls. I dance and do gymnastics, and I did quite a lot of acting while I was at college. I even did a commercial once. All of those things help set me apart.”

“What was the commercial?”

“Honey.” She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered the kitschy set. “I wore a gingham dress and sat at a picnic table, blissfully enjoying Sunnybrook Beehive Honey, made from organic fireweed and clover.”

“
I’d like to see that. Can I find it online?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried. But it’s probably out there somewhere.”

His phone rang from the table beside him, and he glanced at the screen.

“Go ahead and answer it,” she encouraged.

“It’s my mother.”

“Do you need privacy?”

“Not at all.” He lifted the phone. “I’ll just be a minute.”

She sat back to
sip her wine. There was something admirable in his attitude toward his mother. He was clearly respectful when he spoke of her. And just now there’d been a warm expression on his face when he’d seen her number displayed. A lot of Amelia’s friends from college were dismissive and disdainful of their parents.

“
Hi, Mom,” Morgan said into the phone. “No, not at all. I was just about to grill some burgers.”

While he listened, Amelia turned her attention
to the backyard. The rain was pounding down once again, drumming off the small awning outside the door and splashing into the pool. She rose from the couch and wandered to the glass door, looking for the same switch she’d located in her condo on the first night.

“
They forwarded it from our old house?” Morgan was asking behind her.

She switched on the light, illuminating the pool and the splash of raindrops
on the surface. The city was a hazy glow in the distance, and the storm made the living room feel particularly cozy.

“
Sure,” he continued. “Just send it to me.” There was another pause. “I don’t know.” Silence. “I’ll decide.” More silence.

This time, there was a slight edge to his voice. “I know you do.”

Amelia told herself to stop listening. But it really was impossible. She was about to excuse herself into the bathroom to give him some privacy, when he ended the call.