His Curvy Enemy - Curvy Girl Dating Agency

Finally, I pulled back with a smile. “That’s why not, Eva. I can’t take her seriously when she is a poor substitute for the real thing.”

The stunned look on her face told me that Eva wasn’t as sure as she pretended to be. That was just fine by me because, hell, I wasn’t sure, either. Not of one damn thing where this woman was concerned. All I knew was that I wanted Eva. I was intrigued by her, and I wasn’t ready to walk away.

Not yet.EvaI arrived at work before anyone else had gotten there, giving myself plenty of time to look around the office one final time and to re-date and sign my letter of resignation. At this point, it seemed ridiculous and redundant, maybe even a little over the top, but it had to be done. I spent the morning catching up on my work and searching for new office space, because there was no way Sophie would be able to trust me after what I had done.

An hour before our scheduled lunch meeting, I placed a deli order to be delivered to the office and went over all the details in my head. Sophie became like a litigator when she was upset and would have a thousand questions for me, all of which I would be forced to answer. As the time ticked away, the lump in my gut expanded in size and my heart beat so loud that I didn’t hear Kendra’s reminder about the meeting.

A few minutes after noon, Olive and then Sophie arrived with their trusted tablets, ready to talk business. “Hey, Eva, what’s with all the food? Not that I’m complaining, just curious is all.” Olive dropped down in the seat across from me, a wide smile on her face.

“Just figured we could kill two birds at once.”

“I don’t believe it. Something’s up,” Sophie said with a worried glare as she sat down in the chair right next to me. “What’s going on?” Instead of putting me on the spot, she grabbed a turkey avocado club and started to eat, waiting me out.

Olive followed her lead, so I took my time to gather my thoughts. And my courage.

I took one bite of roast beef to settle my stomach followed by a sip of sparkling water to wet my throat, and then I looked at my friends—my business partners—and I told them everything. “It started with the kiss, and I swear I had no intention of repeating it. None whatsoever.” I closed my eyes and told them about spending time with him and getting to know him. “He’s not who I thought he was, and that’s a good thing. But the rest is bad. It’s so, so bad.” This was it: the moment of truth. I told them about the kiss outside the Carriage House after his horrible date with Audrey. About the sex. And then more sex.

“Audrey had nothing but bad things to say about Oliver.” Olive shook her head. “Poor girl wanted to rip off his family jewels.”

Sophie said nothing for a long time and I couldn’t read the silence. It could be white-hot anger or pity or some combination of the two I hadn’t been privy to yet.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Olive the romantic filled the void. “Not to be too mercenary about this, because I personally think it’s great that you and Oliver had finally realized what the tension between you really is, but this is still a good thing. For you and for TFL.” I wasn’t convinced, but Olive was in the zone, ready to plead her case. “The system matched you and Oliver at 89.9%, so you know what that means in terms of predicted relationship success. Also, it means that technically you are winning that bet, if that helps.”

I stared at Olive and then at Sophie, my brows dipped in confusion. “What do you mean, you matched us? I explicitly remember a conversation where we agreed to never do that with our dates.”

Finally, Sophie spoke up. “No, we agreed we wouldn’t test men we met outside TFL, and you didn’t test this. We did, and we did it on a client, so no harm, no foul.” Sophie waved off my incredulous look. “Of course, we matched you. You and Oliver are the only ones in town who can’t see the sparks between you, and the moment you agreed to that silly bet, this was inevitable.”

I shook my head. “It was just a friendly bet.”

“Bet that as it may,” she said, transforming momentarily into the Worthington she might have been if things had worked out differently, “it is our duty as matchmakers to help lost souls find love. Be upset if you want, but we are not sorry. Are we Olive?”

Olive shook her head in solidarity, chin notched up in defiance. “No, we’re not.”