Scoring a Holiday Match (Mr. Match), Delancey Stewart [classic novels TXT] 📗

Scoring a Holiday Match

PLUS: Scoring with the Surfer

Delancey Stewart

Contents

1. Nothing Says “Festive” Like Crabs

2. Max is Still Annoying

3. Enter the Seafaring Lumberjack

4. On Behalf of Birds…

5. This Tree Looks Comfy

6. Rose is Not King Kong

7. Lost and Found

8. Breakfast Magic

9. Making Deals with Fish

Scoring with the Surfer

10. Margaritas and Racoons

11. Holy Mother of Penguins

12. Blow Jobs and Waffles

About the Author

Also by Delancey Stewart

Chapter 1

Nothing Says “Festive” Like Crabs

ROSE

“Crabs, you say? Lu, that’s gonna be a hard pass for me.”

“Okay, I did say crabs. But let me give you some context.”

I sighed, settling into the deeply comfortable and very expensive office chair behind my desk. “Go on. Tell me about the man with crabs.”

You could almost hear Tallulah gearing up for her hard sell on the other end of the line. She’d recently gotten involved with Mr. Match—the website every unmatched single person in the country was talking about, at least if they were trying to become un-single. I might have dropped a profile into the system six months or so ago, but I’d still heard nothing. Until now.

“So, he’s from Alaska, right? And OMG, Rose, this guy’s photo. He’s all mountain man and seafaring and lumberjacky with the beard and the flannel.”

I sighed. “I don’t really see myself with a seafaring lumberjack. That’s probably why the system didn’t match us in the first place. Because we’re not a match. And what did you say about the crab thing?”

“Right, he captains a crab fishing boat.”

“Like Deadliest Catch?”

“Exactly like that.” Lu added a squeal at the end of this, as if crab fishing was just that exciting.

I was actually guilty of binge-watching that particular show, though I couldn’t have told you why. The guys did look tough, but a lot of them also looked like hard-living, low-level criminals. “I don’t think it would work out.”

“You haven’t even met him yet. And the system almost did match you! As Ms. Match, it’s my job to quality check the matches we offer, and I just didn’t happen to agree with yours when it popped.”

“Wait, that stupid computer finally found an actual match for me?”

“Yes, but it was wrong.”

I stood up. I had been pretending not to care much, acting as if seeing every single one of my friends get engaged, married, or at least sexed up on the regular didn’t bother me, but after thirty years of singlehood, I was ready. “How about I get to meet my actual match, and then if that doesn’t work out, we’ll try your runner up?”

“He wasn’t actually the runner up either.”

“How far down the list did the crab man fall?”

“Sixth.” Lu sounded sad when she said this.

“Why are you so dead set on me meeting this guy? Why not my actual match?” I paced around the front of my desk, staring out at the harbor beyond my office windows.

“I have a feeling,” she said. “And I’m testing a theory.”

“So, I’m a guinea pig.”

“Look, can you just meet him? I’ve already set it all up for you. You just have to show up. In a cocktail dress, okay?”

“That’s kinda fancy for a first date. Can’t we just do coffee?”

“No. It’s a ball.”

I sighed, hanging my head. Tallulah and I had been friends for a long time, but sometimes she was just . . . Exhausting.

“A ball?”

“The Jingle Bell Ball. Mr. Match is putting it on with the Sharks and the Stars, and there’ll be a whole bunch of matches meeting there, and all the proceeds go to testicular cancer. Do it for the balls, Rose.”

“Two pro soccer teams and a bunch of people who are almost but not quite good matches meeting for the first time. What could possibly go wrong?” This was how it was. Lu wore me down every time she wanted something. And I always gave in. She was cute and convincing. Like a very tenacious prairie dog.

“So you’re in?”

“Fine. When and where?”

She gave me the details and we hung up, just as my office door swung open.

“Boss?” PJ, my assistant, stumbled through the door, looking uncertain as ever. His shirt was rumpled, and I was pretty sure he’d mismatched the buttons because his collar was awkwardly lopsided.

“What’s up, PJ?”

“So there’s this thing . . .”

“What kind of thing?” I should never have agreed to hire my partner’s nephew to be my assistant.

“So, like, a guy called, right? And he says the server crashed and so their entire system is down, and he like, he thinks it was our software, and so like, there’s lawyers and stuff he’s calling, and—”

“Can you just put me through to this guy please? I’ll figure it out.” I walked back around my desk and sat as PJ nodded his assent and disappeared. Odds were fifty-fifty he’d accidentally put me through to the place he usually ordered our sandwiches from.

My extension beeped and I picked it up. “Putting you through now to Kenneth Ellis at Calico Solutions.”

That was almost professional. Maybe PJ wasn’t so hopeless.

Someone picked up on the other end: “Hello, you’ve reached the Fun Dungeon, San Diego’s hottest underground social club, this is Maddie.”

Oh lord. “Wrong number, sorry.” I did not want to know what PJ did in his off hours.

I hung up and then redialed Calico Solutions. Kenneth Ellis had been a pain in the ass for as long as my company had been selling security solutions to his. I almost hoped he’d try to sue us and then just go away. But that would probably be bad for business.

“Kenneth, hello,” I said when he picked up. “It’s Rose Gonzalez, CEO of Airlock Security Solutions?”

I listened to Kenneth whine, rocking back and forth in my chair. It was the usual stuff. His own IT team was a mess, and I often sent my guys to fix their systems so that ours could be properly integrated. As he went on at great length, my cell phone lit up on my desk with a message from