Dashing for Love (Lucky in Love, Book2)

In the margarita-fueled wake of his thirtieth birthday party, small town veterinarian Matty Brodigan takes the plunge into Blinding Love, an app where pictures aren’t allowed and users are paired based on personality tests. How is he to know that the woman he matches with is his best friend’s little sister?
 
Goldie Dash is finally getting her life together: she’s in her own place and has a burgeoning career as a journalist. She’s probably never going to shake her crush on her sister’s best friend Matty Brodigan, but that’s okay, because she just matched with someone on Blinding Love.
 
Hidden behind fake names, Goldie and Matty fall for each other. It’s only when they agree to meet at a masquerade ball that Goldie realizes what’s happened, and when she finally reveals the truth to Matty, the shocked pair decide to keep their relationship under wraps while they figure out what to do.
 
But secrets only last so long, and soon they face a choice: play it safe and walk away, or risk it all for the love they never knew they had?

“The name is Chad.”

“You’re...Chad?”

“Yeah, Chad. Nice to meet you.” He slides onto the bar stool with an audible oof, taking longer to get situated than most before finally attempting a smile.

This isn’t getting off to a great start. I mean, the dude’s name is Chad. No offense to the Chads of the world, but I have yet to meet a good one.

Judging by the sweat on his upper lip, he’s about to fall into the same no-good-Chad category.

But I’m a nice person. So nice, in fact, that I’m going to overlook the unfortunate sweat situation and focus instead on the fact that Chad’s treating me to dinner at this really nice restaurant. And by nice I mean kind of mediocre with servers I could run laps around, but I’m trying really hard not to judge. I stick my hand out for a shake. “Nice to meet you.”

His hand meets mine, and it’s like shaking hands with a fish. Limp and damp.

I hold off the physical shiver of ick like the champion I am and beam at him. “How do you know Agatha?”

“Oh. Um, she’s my mom’s friend? From some kind of card night that all the old ladies play?”

I peer at him. “Are you asking me, or are you telling me?” I hate it when people make statements as though they’re questions.

He squirms. “Telling?”

I look around for the server. I’m going to need a glass of wine to get through this. Or three.

One glass in and our buddy Chad hasn’t gotten any better. He’s not talkative, he answers all my questions with the least amount of words as possible, and I’m at my wit’s end.

I’ve got to tell Agatha that she’s not allowed to set me up on dates anymore. Now that it’s me living in the tiny guest cottage behind her house instead of my sister Willa, she’s decided that she needs to fix me up with the future love of my life the same way she set Willa up with Reid.

And honestly, I love her for thinking she set them up, but those two were on a collision course from the second they laid eyes on each other. Did Agatha lay the groundwork for more? Possibly. But to hear her tell it, she was who started the entire operation between those two.

With that victory under her belt, she immediately turned her sights to me. And I’ve endured my fair share of mediocre dates, but this one is by far the worst.

I focus back in on what Chad’s saying.

“...so my bird, she’s an African Grey and I’ve had her for twenty years—”

I hold up a hand. “Wait. You’ve had a bird for twenty years?” Maybe he is interesting.

He nods vigorously, his pale face lighting up a notch. “Yes! Her name is Affie because I had a lisp when I was little. I got her when I was twelve and she’s been my best friend ever since.”

Okay, I’m not gonna lie. That’s kind of adorable. Is it making up for the rest of Chad’s shortcomings? Not exactly. But it’s hard to dismiss a guy who’s managed a twenty-year relationship with a living creature.

“She sleeps in my room, and we talk every morning and night. She usually goes everywhere with me—she was pretty mad that I didn’t bring her with me to our date. Said a lot of mean things about it, in fact.” He chortles obliviously. “She doesn’t even know you, but she does not like you.”

I stop drinking wine. No amount is going to make this better, and why waste a perfectly good Uber charge when I can just stay sober and drive home?

Because dude just told me his parrot and him do everything together.

He keeps going. “And she loves the shower.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

He nods again, so hard his jowls shake. “Oh, she’s a big fan of the shower. Just hops right in with me and when she’s done, she hops out and waits on the towel rack.”

I smile weakly. “Wow.”

“Right? She’s amazing. Just the other day, we were on one of our three daily walks around the property—that’s what I call my backyard, ha, the ‘property,’ and…”

I zone out. After what feels like the entirety of the Paleozoic era, I pull out my phone and pretend I’ve gotten a call. “I’m so sorry,” I frown and slip off the stool, grabbing my clutch and tucking it under my arm as I go. “I need to take this.”

If he notices that I book it out of the restaurant like I’ve got a horde of wasps after me, he doesn’t act on it.