Meeting His Match (Single In the City 1)

“That’s insane.”

“Insane or not, they like it, and I get my story. It’s a win-win.” She shrugged, looking as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Nothing she said even fazed her. She was coldblooded. She wasn’t the Queen of Single, she was The Ice Queen.

“What if you actually end up liking one of them? What then?” he asked, because he had to know. Surely, this woman wasn’t that frigid.

“Impossible.”

His brows rose to his hairline. On second thought . . .

“It won’t happen because I don’t want to be tied down. Ever. I don’t want the big house and the white picket fence with the dog in the yard. I like going back to my apartment alone. I like being free to do whatever I please when I wake up on the weekend, whether it be stay in bed till ten, or get coffee and a bite at Absolute Bagels. I have my own routine. One where I answer to no one. I only need to worry about myself, which makes life easy. There are zero expectations in my life other than my own. If I want cereal for dinner, I eat in front of the TV with a giant bowl of Lucky Charms. Or, if I want company and something a little fancier, I call up a friend. Simple.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“Or practical. Or I don’t know . . . like freedom, perhaps? I have an amazing job I love with readers who adore me and two of the most amazing friends a girl could ask for. What more do I need?”

“I can think of a few things.”

“Like?” she asked, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

Apparently, she didn’t like being challenged, which only made him want to push her even more.

“Companionship. Love.” He took another sip of his beer, noticing the instantaneous curl of her lip at his suggestion, then leaned into her.

She crossed her legs, angling her body toward him while running a hand through her hair. When he caught the scent of something floral, he suppressed the urge to close his eyes and breathe her in.

“I don’t need a man to have those things.” Her shoe brushed his ankle.

“You say the word ‘man’ like it’s poison.”

“Not poison, just completely unnecessary.”

He glanced at her heart-shaped mouth and licked his lips. “Most people want a partner in life, someone to share things with. And you’re what . . . How old?”

“Twenty-five.” She smirked.

“Right. Twenty-five, so you’re young. How do you know in five years’ time you won’t get lonely and want someone to share things with? Sooner or later your friends will start settling down, if they haven’t already, and then you’ll be sitting in your apartment all alone, with nothing but your precious magazine to keep you company.”

“Sounds amazing.”

He chortled and nursed another sip of his beer. This lady was a real piece of work.

“I love my life,” she continued. “I love being single. And even if I decided I did lack a little companionship, marriage is not in the books for me.”

“Ah, I see,” he said with a knowing grin.

She straightened, her spine so rigid he thought it might snap. “What do you see, exactly?”

“You’re not just single because of the column you write. You’re one of those anti-relationship chicks that have a wall up so high no man could ever climb it. You wear it proudly like a coat of armor. I can see it right now,” he said, placing a hand on his forehead as if trying to see better and squinting down at her chest.

“While I appreciate your oh-so-subtle excuse to look at my boobs, my eyes are up here.” She pointed to her vibrant baby blues, and he grinned.

“Isn’t this the part where you deny everything I just said?”

She uncrossed her legs and shifted further back in her seat. “For your information, I don’t have a wall up. Why is it that a woman can’t be single and happy? Why do people always assume that she’s either putting up a front or that there’s something wrong with her?”

“Ah, so now we’re going the feminist route. Are you going to accuse me of being sexist too?”