Chapter 2 Dared and Matched
DARED AND MATCHED
Penelope “Penny” Fair
Penelope Fair: Small town girl.
Bank Account: Enough to buy my next favorite book.
Heart: Seeking true love.
Click on my profile if you’re serious about marriage. Must love kids and dogs.
What millionaire in his right mind would click on my profile? It contained enough red flags to send most men sprinting.
Only when the notification popped up that I’d been matched, and saw with whom, I almost dropped my phone.
Archer Bellamy.
My stepsister’s ex-boyfriend?
I reread his profile three times. His photo filled the phone screen like a painting I couldn’t look away from, and I was eighteen all over again, wishing he’d see me instead of Brianne.
The man who had blazed his own path in the world sat on a velvet couch, arms wide, ankle crossed over a knee. With his tie loose, collar undone, hair styled, and scruff darkening his jaw, his smoldering look caught me by surprise.
What happened to the glasses he used to wear? Gone.
Every detail stopped me, in a way that made my lungs forget their job. The lanky geek my stepsister dated had grown into a devastatingly handsome man.
The image pulled me back to the night of Brianne’s grad school graduation.
After they had had a fight, she stormed away.
Later, Archer showed up here to grovel. We’d sat on the steps of this very house, me hopelessly infatuated, wishing I could tell him, Don’t go back to her. She treated you horribly.
Why would he listen to me, though? I was the invisible stepsister, way too young for him, and definitely too na?ve for my own good. Still, I’d never forgotten the way we talked that night about buildings of all things, just to pass the time.
While on the inside he must have been heartbroken waiting for Breanne to show, on the outside his face lit up, pointing out cornices and moldings on the buildings around us that most people never noticed.
He hooked me. To this day, I couldn’t walk the city without looking up, noticing dentil molding on a historical structure, and thinking of him.
“Did you get a match on that app?” Aunt Brier’s voice snapped me back.
She was curled too close beside me on the couch, what with her beloved Goldie dog taking up room on the other side of her, his head in her lap, snoozing away to the clicks of her crochet hook and fingers.
Wheel of Fortune played on the TV, yet she hardly noticed, intent on tonight’s project involving pink variegated yarn penises.
Don’t ask me how, but she sold plenty online and at the doggie daycare she owned.
The app in question was Minted & Matched, the one she’d read about in the Times when they interviewed the man who founded it. We both joined just for fun on a dare, never expecting anything.
“Well, yes, and no. Look.” I shoved my phone under her nose.
Her gasp was immediate. “Is that…?”
“Archer. Yes. Only older now.”
“He certainly grew to be easy on the eyes. I always liked him. Never understood what he saw in Brianne.” She flicked her crochet needle against my phone to shoo it away and bent the yarn back into submission.
“The day your mother divorced her father should be a national holiday. Too much drama in that family.”
I forced a shrug, pretending his photo hadn’t scrambled my insides.
“Archer…” I gazed at his face far too long with Aunt Brier side-eyeing me.
“Someone’s blushing. You should message him,” she urged. “Just a friendly hello. Who knows where it could lead?”
“Oh, no. What is he, fifty by now?”
She snorted. “Hardly. If he were, I’d be after him myself, sweetie.”
“I don’t think your Westley would appreciate that,” I teased. Her Westley being the man she’d met in the AOL chat days. All these years later, they still talked by phone for hours every week but had never met in person.
She blushed bright pink. “Archer’s maybe thirty-five. You’re twenty-six. A respectable gap.”
Gap? I looked closer at his picture again, breath catching. Time did wonders for his looks. I squirmed in my seat, apparently into older men. Who knew? But could he ever be into me?
“That would be too awkward,” I rushed to say. “Especially after what Brianne did to him.”
“What that little hussy did is something you’d never dream of. Your mother raised you better than hers ever did.” Brier’s fingers stabbed the yarn harder.
We’d all been shocked when Brianne’s long affair with a grad professor came to light, especially when she ended up pregnant with his child. Archer’s heart had taken the brunt of it as he walked away from her for good.
“I’m sure he wants nothing to do with me—” ding. My eyes widened, body jolted, as my phone turned to electricity in my hands. “Oh my God. He messaged me.”
“What does it say?” Brier grabbed my hand like this was better than the spinning wheel on TV.
Archer: Is that you, Penny? I don’t know if you remember me. It’s been a while.
“Invite him over for tea and cookies,” Brier said, tossing her creation aside.
She and Goldie both leapt off the couch like he might knock on our door tonight.
Her energy and youthfulness never surprised me.
Several years younger than my mother, we were not only aunt and niece, but more like besties.
“Stop. I’m not inviting him over. I’ll just say hello, that’s all.
” I typed Hello three times but deleted each one.
Hello was lame. Couldn’t I do better? He used to be so witty.
I took a moment to think of a great opening, as if this was a personal challenge.
Not that any of this mattered. He probably reached out only to say hi.
Still… the app’s algorithms called us a match.
Me: Is that you, Archer? Or some other architect who made me fall a little in love with cornices and balustrades one night long ago.
Stomach in knots the second I hit send, I sucked in my lips and watched the three dots appear, vanish, reappear. This was a mistake. He’d probably reply politely, remember Brianne and all the cruel ways she hurt him, and then block me forever.
Finally, his message dropped in.
Archer: Yep. It’s me. The poor sap who waited for Brianne that night. Unless she was dating more than one architect back then.
Ouch. Still bitter, apparently. What the hell should I say now? I should have thought this through beyond the initial text. To make matters worse, Brier demanded a play-by-play from the kitchen as she put the teakettle on for her nightly shot of chamomile, and gave Goldie a treat.
Me: I thought Architectural Abode did a brilliant piece on you and your firm last year. I read it at the library.
Archer: You saw that? I figured only bored people in doctor’s offices would read that.
Me: Great cover of you, too.
Archer: I thought their photographer posed me to look too smug. I was going for confident.
Me: You looked like a distinguished man who’d worked for everything he wanted and reached the pinnacle of success.
Archer: Pinnacle? Not yet. But I expect to conquer the world by the time I’m done. And don’t confuse distinguished with old. I have plenty of good years ahead of me.
Brier again demanded play-by-play from the kitchen. I read her each message. She giggled at the “old” remark.
“Did you invite him over yet?” She was like a backseat driver to this entire situation.
“No. And I won’t. I’m telling you, he’s not interested in me. He’s simply reaching out for old time's sake. That’s all.”
Archer: You still there?
Me: Sorry, Aunt Brier interrupted me.
Archer: How is Brier Rose? I always liked her.
Me: She’s crocheting penises on the couch.
Archer: Huh?
Me: Her latest craft obsession. She gets custom orders, by thickness and length.
Archer: Well, there are worse hobbies. Competitive bird-calling. Knife juggling. Dating apps.
Me: Don’t forget underwater basket weaving, conspiracy scrapbooking, or crocheting. Well, never mind, we’ve already covered that one.
My lips tugged higher.
Me: How’s your brother?
Archer: Just left him at the hospital. His wife delivered their second child, Everett. Their oldest, Wren, is two now.
Me: I’ll bet you’re a good uncle.
Archer: Of course I am. But I’m biased.
I pictured him giving piggyback rides on his strong adult shoulders. My smile came easier.
Brier plunked down tea and cookies on the coffee table, eyes wide. “You’re smiling. What’s he saying now?”
Archer: Are you visiting Brier? How long are you in town?
Me: I live here, actually. Moved here for college after high school.
Archer: What did you major in?
I hesitated. Once upon a time, I loved sketching designs for buildings, and thought I’d be doing that for life.
Instead, after graduation, I made a terrible decision to follow my then-boyfriend from city to city as he tried to make it big in country music.
Or as my mother called it, “wasting my life on the road with a nobody.”
Me: Architecture.
Archer: Really? I know many of the firms in the city. Where are you working?
Me: Long story, but I work at Brier’s doggie daycare.
Archer: Interesting.
What must he think of me now—what with him at the top of the skyline, and me walking dogs at street level?
Suddenly, I felt two feet tall. My mother’s nagging voice echoed in my head again, reminding me to come home and settle for working in her dress shop in Steele Valley. The small mountain town never felt like home to me, though.
What the heck happened to my life? Time flew by and somehow stuck me in a place of contentment, but not accomplishment. The question was something I’d been wrestling with for some time.
“What’s wrong, honey? What did he say?” Brier asked. Goldie jumped up between us, nestling into the couch, head on her thigh.
“It’s not him. It’s me. I’ve been here for a couple of years and have nothing to show for it. Oh, but I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine, honey. You were such a dear to come help me during my knee replacement recovery. But I always knew this was only a temporary stopover for you. It’s time for you to think about doing something more.”
“Like what? I earned my degree several years ago but never put it to use. Who would hire me now?”
“If you marry a wealthy man like Archer, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.” She half-teased, leaving that thought dangling out there.
“Aunt Brier, please. I can’t rely on a man’s money for everything—look where that got my mother? I need to figure out my life on my own. Besides, I’m sure Archer is not interested in me.” I rolled my eyes. “I’d only remind him of Brianne and everything she did to him.”
Archer: Would you like to meet for coffee sometime?
“Oh my God. He wants to meet for coffee.” My face went pale.
Before I could think, Brier dropped her crochet on Goldie’s head and snatched the phone out of my hands. She typed “yes” and hit send.
“What have you done? Have you lost your mind?” I yanked my phone back.
“Meet him. See if there’s a spark.” She was incorrigible.
“Excuse me? Wasn’t that exactly what I told you last week when Westley mentioned coming to the city soon, wanting to meet you at last?”
“That’s different.” She huffed and picked up her needle again.
“No, it’s the same. You’re scared to meet him in person, but I know you want to. What are you afraid of?”
“I like his friendship. Meeting might ruin it.”
“Or it might turn into something even better.”
“Same to you and Archer.”
We glared at each other, my mind spinning around things, until I finally smirked. “Tell you what, Aunt Brier. I’ll meet Archer—if you agree to meet Westley when he’s here.”
I knew she lived for his phone calls, but she kept denying it. As a long-time widow—I can hardly recall Uncle Tristan—fear kept her from moving things further with Westley, I was sure of it.
Here we sat, with Goldie our only companion. Two lonely women, both scared to take the next step. Maybe it was time we pushed each other toward something better.
Archer: How about tomorrow?
I took it only as a polite obligation. To think this was anything more would break me if I misread it.
I turned the screen so she could see his invitation. “Well, do we have a deal? I won’t agree to meet him unless you take out your phone and text Westley right now.”
Reluctantly, she sighed and pulled the phone out from underneath Goldie’s torso. “I’m only doing this so you’ll have your chance to meet Archer.”
“Right back at you.” I blew her a kiss and texted Archer a time to meet. I hit send, telling myself it was just coffee, but my pulse sprinted ahead, anyway.