Matched

She smiles and nuzzles her face in the crook of my neck like she's still a little embarrassed.

"I'll be waiting with bated breath for your return."

We sit for a moment, enjoying each other's warmth and then I get up, picking her up as I do, and she slowly slides down my body until she's standing on her tiptoes.

"You're going to make me want to stay for another hour," I say with a chuckle.

"No, you should go," she says and runs her fingers through my hair. "Do your packing and get a good sleep. Text me when you can."

"I will."

I kiss her again and then go to the bedroom to gather the rest of my clothes. I dress while India watches me from the doorway, leaning on the doorjamb, her arms crossed. When I'm finished, she follows me to the front door, where I slip on my shoes. We embrace, kiss once more and say goodbye.

I hop into my car, and drive off, watching her wave to me in the rear-view mirror.

A completely successful night.

While I'll miss her, I'm looking forward to a weekend with the guys from my old Army unit. I know I'll have a great time with them and we'll get some real work done on the security business they're thinking of starting.

Still, it will be great to return on Monday and drive right over here from the airport to find her waiting for me.

Ready and willing.

Chapter 19

INDIA

I feel good yet sad when Jon drives away and I'm alone in the house. It’s not that I expected Jon to stay the night.

Well, to be truthful, I would have been impressed if he had stayed, and simply got up an hour earlier to go to his place and pack before going to the airport.

I want him in my bed.

But it's probably for the best that he goes home and gets a decent sleep. There's no telling what he might do if he stayed with me – probably wake me up an hour early for a nice slow morning fuck. Then he'd be in a rush to pack and get to the airport.

So, I take in a deep breath and go back out on the patio to watch the stars blinking over the ocean while I finish my nightly cup of hot tea. Marina got me in the habit when she was hugely into Harry Potter and went on an all-things-British jag, drinking tea like a proper Brit, eating British food and even using strange-sounding British words like jumper instead of sweater, fizzy drink instead of soda, and crisps instead of potato chips.

Marina is such a geek. Which is why the two of us got along so well. It's strange to think that of all my friends and acquaintances, Marina would be the one to develop a dating app. It's hard to square the idea of her knowing so much about romance, considering she's only had one boyfriend and they broke up a couple of years earlier. She's been single ever since.

But she's an analyst, even if only in psychology. She understands what makes people tick. To her, we're all emotion machines with algorithms we follow. She thinks she's cracked the romance algorithm, but sadly, I think her algorithm flopped.

I’ve always told her to match herself with someone, but she says it's impossible. A matchmaker can never match themselves. While they see others clearly, and can tell who works with whom, they can't see themselves clearly.

"But your algorithm should work, right?" I protested.

"I don't like any of the matches it's made for me." She shrugged like it wasn't a bad thing. If it didn't work for her, why the hell would she think it would work for anyone else?

So, poor Marina needs a matchmaker for herself. There aren't many dating apps that target geek girls, so until she meets someone with an algorithm as good as she was at matching people – or at least, an algorithm as good as we all thought she was – she'll stay single.

I'm beginning to doubt her ability to match people at all, considering how poorly she's done for both Jon and me.

Maybe those couples we all knew were freak accidents.

The next day, I wake late and luxuriate in the freedom of sleeping in without worrying about going in to work. I'll go in later this afternoon for a couple of hours to catch up on work I missed while my mom was first in the hospital.

While I'm enjoying a morning coffee in my pajamas on the patio, watching ships in the harbor, I get a text from Jon.

JON: Flight was delayed, and now we're stuck in Denver for three hours. How did you sleep?