Matched To His Dragons (The Dates of Our Lives #16)

1. Jackson

Chapter 1

Jackson

“Hi, Niall.”

My friend narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so chirpy this early in the morning?”

I’d woken him up, and he was lying in bed, his phone propped up on the bedclothes, talking to me and yawning.

“Because it’s a beautiful Sunday, and I’m talking to my friend and colleague who’s the smartest guy I know.”

“You always do this.” He turned on his side and picked up the phone. “You go too far with your BS. Shouldn’t have added that bit about me being so smart.” He grinned. “Though I am. Now fess up. What have you done, or should I say, what do you expect me to do?”

“It’s not like that,” I fibbed. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and if you remembered about Saturday.”

Niall was my last hope.

My friend tucked a hand behind his head. “What’s so special about Saturday? Why not Friday or Wednesday?”

“Do you remember when we went to that club a month ago and you stayed the night at my place?”

Of course he’d recall that, but I was hoping to fudge some of the details.

“Yeah.” His eyes widened. “Did you hook up with someone?” He sat up and bunched the pillow behind him. “Tell me everything.”

“No, I didn’t, and no, that’s not what this is about.”

His crestfallen expression told me he was interested in the dirt, the tea, the gossip. “So why did you wake me on a Sunday when it’s practically still dark out?”

“I asked you something the next morning and you agreed, but I wanted to check that you remembered.”

“Hmmm. What did I supposedly agree to?”

I didn’t like his use of the word “supposedly,” but I plowed ahead. “You were half asleep, like you are now, when I asked you to be my date to my cousin’s wedding.”

I waited, letting the information sink in, but he didn’t speak, and I had to breathe. I gasped, and he made a face. “Breathe in and breathe out, dude. That’s the rule.”

“Well, I may have neglected to mention that when you accompany me, you have to pretend to be my boyfriend.” That was a lot, and I studied Niall’s expression while the thoughts churned in his head.

“A wedding I don’t recall and now I have to be your fake boyfriend. Interesting.” He giggled. “Do I have to kiss you and tell everyone how great you are in bed?”

“No!” I shouted. “I mean no, this is a no-touching wedding.” My uncles were very conservative and would frown at anyone groping one another and sticking their tongues down each other’s throats.

“Let’s hope there’s touching after the wedding or the couple are going to have a terrible honeymoon.”

I didn’t want to get off on a tangent but needed Niall to concentrate and agree to my harebrained scheme.

“So, are we good?”

“Sure, why not. I love weddings, and as long as the cake isn’t that old-fashioned heavy fruit cake with a thick layer of fondant on the top, I’m there.”

Oh, thanks gods. My folks had been telling me since my mid-twenties that I’d never find a partner, a husband, a significant other, or a whatever. They said I was too picky, I expected too much, and no one could ever measure up to my high standards.

They were wrong. There was someone out there for me, and I wouldn’t take second best. I looked at the marriages of my relatives and friends of the family, even my folks’ relationship. Some were visibly dissatisfied, snapping at their husband and critiquing every little thing about them. Others seemed to have accepted that this was life. Not ecstatically happy but not so miserable that they wanted to leave.

I refused to accept that, and if my journey in life was to be alone, that would be fine. Better than knowing you’d made a mistake and being unable or unwilling to change it.

“It’s not, is it?” Niall tapped the screen.

“What?”

“The cake?”

“Oh, no. My cousin wanted a chocolate one, or if not that, a lemon cake.”

“Yum. Melt-in-your-mouth cake with lots of frosting. I’m there, bro.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at three on Saturday.”

But Niall’s face fell, and his face disappeared from the screen as he checked something on his phone. When he appeared, one look at his face and a sharp pain jabbed at my chest.

“No can do. That’s my dad’s birthday. I can’t miss it, not even to be your fake boyfriend.”

Niall, his parents, and siblings were close and never missed a family birthday or anniversary.

“I’m so sorry. If it were anything other than my family, I’d cancel.”

“It’s fine.” I could pretend I was sick and miss the wedding, but I’d have to deal with the aftermath and everyone thinking I’d faked my illness because I’d fibbed about bringing a date. And it would be all true.

“Please tell me you didn’t say you were bringing a plus-one to the wedding?” Niall put his face to the screen. “Oh no, you did. I can see it in your eyes. Big mistake. Never do the fake-boyfriend thing until you confirm it with the other guy.”

“That’s for the fake-dating advice,” I quipped.

“But I might have a solution.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out.” I didn’t want him to put me together with someone I didn’t know. Niall and I had been friends for years, but my folks had never met him. I couldn’t pretend I was in love with a stranger and we’d be caught out after my dads pummeled him with questions.

“It’s a dating app. I’ll send you the link.”

Even worse. I wasn’t doing the swipe left (or was it the right) routine only to meet up with someone right before the wedding. That would be more of a disaster than going alone.

“I don’t want to fill out a mountain of forms.”

“There’s none of that,” he assured me. You choose two things.”

“Like what I’m looking for in the other person? A kind smile and a cute butt?”

Niall rolled his eyes. “That’s what you’d put if those were the options? You wouldn’t mention the ho?—”

“No, I wouldn’t want to make a bad first impression.”

Niall sighed. “Lucky for you those aren’t the options. Love and Hate. That’s the name of the app.”

Huh? That sounded like the opposite of a recipe for success. But my friend pushed on.

“You write one thing you love and one you hate and let the algorithm do its job.”

“I don’t know.” I didn’t want to make the effort. Having Niall go to the wedding with me was my Plan A. I didn’t have a Plan B and didn’t want some app to be that plan.

My phone dinged.

“Sent you the link. You have six days to find a match, meet, fall in love, and tell your folks at the wedding you’ve met your one and only.”

“Yeah, right.” As if that was going to happen.

“I’m ending the call. Go. Shoo. Sign up for the app.” His face disappeared from my phone.

Damn and double damn. Why’d I leave this until almost the last minute? My folks were right about that too, saying I was disorganized.

But I got myself a soda and did some research on the app. It was created by a guy named Colin, and it had a huge success rate. But I wasn’t looking for a husband, and a fake boyfriend wasn’t something I could put on my profile. Or I could but who would respond? Someone wanting to be paid, that was who.

I supposed I could try it. As Niall said, what other options did I have?

What did I love? Rainy morning in bed with a coffee and a good book. That was generic enough that not everyone would use it, but it didn’t label me as a weirdo.

And for the hate? I tapped my lips. I had a lot, but which one should be top of the list? Getting water in my shoes on a rainy day? Yeah, I hated that, but I’d already mentioned rain in my love. Lukewarm coffee. Ewww. I’d toss it out and brew another rather than drinking it a little cold and a tiny bit hot.

That was easy. Niall had been right. But would my love and my hate yield any results? I got up and made breakfast, my mind churning on how I could get out of the wedding.

I had to go on a work trip? Nah. My job at a pet store didn’t involve international or domestic travel, unless delivering huge packets of dog food across town counted.

What else? A water pipe had burst and I needed to clean up? That wouldn’t succeed either, as my boss was friendly with my parents.

I could say…my boyfriend broke up with me and I was heartbroken.

Or did I give honesty a try?