Chapter 4

I pressed the button on my key fob to unlock the doors of my brand-new car, not because I couldn’t have done it with a mere snap of my fingers, but because I enjoyed hearing the little bee-bop noise that signaled the deactivation of the alarm. After years of walking or straddling a tiny, gutless scooter, I’d gone for the mid-sized, sport utility with the most powerful engine available and all the fanciest features. Sure, I could walk to work almost as quickly given the traffic most days, but cranking the stereo up to bass-thumping full-blast put a smile on my face.

Snow crunched beneath my tires as I backed out of the driveway, and the memory of last night’s nightmare flared to life once more. I resisted the urge to scratch at the blemish that marred my left shoulder, preferring to ignore its presence until I had a better idea of what put it there and how to get rid of it.

It was rush hour, and the streets were lined with people walking from parking areas to offices. Their faces slid past like one long blur. My attention was not on their faces anyway, but aimed at the space over their heads where I might find the glowing symbol that called to my inner matchmaker.

The people might have blended together, but my archer’s sight narrowed in to check for the little pink hearts that meant I would have to brave the cold, Northeastern winter air for the sake of instigating true love’s kiss with a shot from my trusty living gold-tipped arrow.

Call me Cupid, but that’s where you’d be wrong, I’m only his daughter.

Thankfully, no urgent matches popped up, and I made it to work in record time. I parked in the secret lot behind my building and opened the door to the new and improved FootSwept Matchmaking.

Hey, I redecorated. Sue me. Antiques and coziness might be the old Lexi’s taste, but not mine. I go for art deco. Bold, bright colors mixed with white and chrome, and geometric lines. Just formal enough to keep the clients from getting too comfy, because while they’re my bread and butter, my office is not a home for wayward hearts.

My receptionist, Angela, gave a brisk tap on my door. “Your ten o’clock appointment is here, Ms. Balefire.” At my nod, she stepped back and held the door open wide for a timid-looking woman.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m a little early. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find a parking space, and then I did.” Her left hand fluttered up to pat at her hair, then back down to clutch her purse strap.

“Come in, come in. Blake Cordell, I presume?” I said, waving Miss Mousy inside. Lexi would have whisked Blake into the now-defunct salon and had Flix snip and clip her like a prize poodle. All in the name of inspiring confidence. Nothing wrong with that, but my job wasn’t to make her feel better, it was to get her matched to someone who would love her in any state.

“Yes, that’s me.” Blake confirmed, though she stuttered in such a way it made me wonder if the question had thrown her off. “I’m here to…because…I want to meet someone.”

Early bird, plans ahead because she’s nervous, probably doesn’t get out much. I glanced down at her intake questionnaire. Good job working with special needs children, which means she’s dedicated, but probably doesn’t have enough adult contact, I thought to myself, pegging the client before she’d settled into the seat across from me.

Pasting on a smile to cover what I considered the most difficult part of my job, I reached across the table and patted her on the hand. “What are you looking for in a mate, Ms. Cordell?”

The answer made no matter to me. The second my skin made contact with hers, my gut locked in on her perfect mate. All I needed to do was follow the tug, find the guy, and set up the date. Easy, right?

“He has to like kids, and cats, and Indian food. Not be a jerk. That’s about it. My needs are simple.” She launched into a tale about her last relationship and I let her ramble.

As she talked, I tapped her answers into the computer so I’d have them on file.

These days, I was taking a page out of Diana Diamond’s playbook and going digital, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. Relying on points of compatibility had never been my method, and I saw no reason to change now. I followed my gut in the same way Lexi always had, but stopped short of dragging people out for a night on the town.

Much easier to set up a series of Friday-night blind dates, then just take a few potshots with the bow from a shadowed corner of the restaurant. More efficient, got the job done, and I was beating Diana Diamond hands down in matches made. So much so that I’d taken a page from her playbook, and now my face graced the TV late at night.

Computerized dating didn’t make me better at my job, but it allowed me to keep track, and provided me with a way to access Diana’s files.

That’s right, I’d turned hacker. Or Flix had—at my request. Ms. Cordell was not just a new client, she was a new client picked out of Diana’s appointment book. Double score. Goddesses do not say neener neener—even when they want to.

Flix, the clever, clever man, had figured out how to get into my rival’s network and access her scheduling software. He fed the names to Angela, who emailed the client with a discount coupon for a consultation with me, and seven times out of ten, we siphoned off one of Diana’s victims.

A satisfying result on many levels. The lovelorn actually got matched to their proper mate, and the idea of Diana feeling the sting of my vengeance gave me a nice, warm glow. Okay, it was more like cold satisfaction, but I’d take what I could get. Lexi might prefer revenge, but I wanted justice.

After a few more questions and answers, entirely for her peace of mind, Blake got my most reassuring smile and a promise to call her the next day to set up her first date. Her last first date ever, unless I missed my guess. She left my office with a spring in her step.

With no other appointments on the schedule, I made my way through the former closet to the room where Flix worked his technological magic. Being half Fae, maybe he'd used some faerie magic as well. I never asked, and if he had a problem with my views on privacy, he never said a word. He looked at me funny from time to time, but kept his opinions where they belonged: to himself.

“Did you see the article in the Sentinel?” Flix asked as I entered. “I emailed you the link.”

If I’d changed my look, it was nothing to the difference in Flix’s appearance. Gone were the flowing silvery-white tresses that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the cover of a romance novel. He’d gone shorter and darker. Don’t get me wrong—he was still gorgeous. The man looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a torrid night of lust and was ready for more. But that was just his baseline. Being in a committed relationship had balanced him out some.

Keeping the reason under wraps, I admitted, “I overslept and didn’t have time to check my news feed this morning. What’s it say?”

“That Port Harbor has become something of a mecca for singles. Sixty percent increase in the unmarried population over the past year, though I’m not sure how they came by that particular statistic. Diana took full credit for the influx.”

The vein in my temple throbbed. “Shocking,” I snarked.

“She made it seem like people were moving here just for the chance to maybe get an appointment with her, and that if they did, it would solve all their problems.”

“Well, that’s fine. Let her line them up, we’ll just keep knocking them down. What have you got for me today?” Deliberately, I kept the conversation centered on business. Over the past few months, Flix had learned to do the same. We weren’t talking about my personal life or watching chick flicks on the days he wasn’t with Carl.

All business, all the time.

“Chad Kroger. Forty-something. Works in advertising, lost his wife two years ago and transferred here last month.”

“Send a copy of the file to my phone. This one’s going to be a piece of cake,” I tossed over my shoulder on my way out.

I’d sent Angela home after our last appointment, so the tap on the door surprised me.

When I cracked it open, it was to see the wide blue eyes of one Mona Katz blinking back at me. The look of disbelief on her face told me I was in for a frustrating conversation.

“Lexi!” Mona cried as she stepped over the threshold and practically lunged at me. Split-second timing and a fancy little two-step put me out of reach. “What have you done? Hi, Flix,” she said to his back as he found somewhere else to be. “Where is the salon? The closet? What happened to all the boots?”

Verbally incontinent, that’s how I’d describe Mona. The old Lexi believed there was a tough, capable woman underneath the space-cadet exterior, but I attributed that to her soft heart and desire to only see the good in people. A luxury we could not afford anymore, given how life had treated us so far. Ever vigilant, that was my motto, and if you think it sounds harsh, well, you haven’t walked a mile in my Manolos.

My internal assessment of Mona’s character was cut short when I realized she wasn’t alone. She beckoned to someone outside the door, and when Kin sauntered into the room, my pulse sped up to double time with the effort of keeping Lexi’s emotions in check.

“Hello, Mona.” I took a seat at the desk, pulled my laptop closer, and tried to look busy while avoiding making eye contact with Kin. “How are you doing at Crumb?” I asked. “You know, with the attention your cakes have been getting, I could probably find you something that pays better. There’s a spot opening up at the Regent hotel. They do sixty weddings a year at least. Interested?”

The head chef was a recent client. Not that it mattered; I was simply trying to quiet the voice of my past self, who was screaming at the top of her lungs inside me.

Mona stared at me as if I had grown a second head. “Of course not. I’m happy where I am.”

“Suit yourself. What can I do for you?” One toe pushed the office chair in lazy half-circles while I eyed Mona dispassionately and concentrated on ignoring Kin. She continued to stare at me like if she looked hard enough, she’d get x-ray vision and see through to my bones.

“This is my friend Kin Clark, and I was hoping you could help him. You know, work your magic.” In a sublimely surreal moment, Mona introduced me to the man who was supposed to love me for the rest of his life. Except he never would. She shot me a little eyebrow waggle that I chose to ignore.

“Hello,” I finally let my gaze rest on the space just slightly above his left ear. The rules of polite society forced me to acknowledge his presence. After all, it wasn’t Kin’s fault his entrance had thrown me for a loop.

“Nice to meet you.” Kin replied, his face reddening in what I chalked up to embarrassment. I knew visiting a matchmaker wasn’t something he’d do under normal circumstances, and that Mona had probably dragged him into FootSwept kicking and screaming. I pushed all thoughts of our history deep down into my subconscious and treated him like any other stranger. It was easier than I expected, and reinforced my conviction that I was doing the right thing by trying to move on with my life.

I realized Mona had continued talking, and that her focus was trained on the changes I’d made to the office rather than my detached attitude. “And I don’t want another job, I want to know what’s going on with you. It looks…weird in here.” She gestured to the spot where the sofa used to be. Personally, I preferred to meet clients in a more professional, no surprises here kind of way.

I sighed, “I redecorated. Flix was tired of doing hair, and if someone needs a little spit and polish, I send them to a spa. On their dime.” My inner witch grunted at that, but I kept a firm hand on the reins. “No hard feelings, believe me. This place was due for a change. With Diana, Queen of Hearts trying to corner the matchmaking market, I thought it best to refocus my efforts. Clean up my act. And don’t you worry about the boots. They’re being put to good use.” I held out a leather-clad foot as proof.

Mona’s eyes narrowed and she searched my face for signs this was all a joke. Like I’d spent a fortune remodeling just to freak her out.

“Well, I suppose if you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” She lied right to my face, but I let it go.

“I am. I am also, unfortunately, booked solid for the foreseeable future.” I ignored the obvious as I stood up and slung my purse strap over my shoulder.

Mona stared at me and pointed to Kin like I was some kind of idiot. “Surely you can find room in your schedule to help him? He needs to find his soul mate, and you’re the only one I trust to do the job. That horrid Diana Diamond gives me the creeps. There’s something off about her.”

Thinking how right Mona was, I sat back down, but did not commit myself to finding Kin a match.

“It’s okay, Mona,” He said, then turned to me, a ghost of his former grin on his lips. “I’m only here because she insisted. This is what happens when you hang around with happily married couples. They always seemed to think that no life could be complete without a relationship, and they’re constantly attempting to set up their single friends—usually with disastrous results.”

If he’d been anyone else, I would have said she was right to bring him to me rather than try a DIY approach, but I thoroughly wished she’d known enough to leave it alone. Kin looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and burrow his way back home.

“I’m sorry, I’m booked.” I wasn’t, but I had no other choice than to pretend as though that were the case.

Mona tilted her head sideways and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Lexi, but I can see you’re not yourself at the moment. It’s not like you to turn away someone who needs your expertise. And besides, it will be a piece of cake. Kin is a really great guy. A musician with a good day job at the radio station, and an uncanny resemblance to Ryan Reynolds.”

She played up his good points as if he weren’t sitting right next to us, and I nearly laughed when a muscle in his jaw started to twitch with the effort of not shouting at her. “He’s just lonely,” she continued on, oblivious, “and I know you could find him a girlfriend like that.” Mona snapped her fingers and summoned an elephant the size of Texas to take up space in the room.

The formerly carefree Lexi Balefire of FootSwept Matchmaking flared to life inside my head at the mention of Kin finding someone else to love. She flooded my head with the vision of Diana Diamond laughing as her curse wiped away Kin’s memory of their relationship. So powerful was the working that no one outside of Lexi’s family—which included her best friend, Flix—could remember when “LexiKin” had been a thing.

If you asked me, and no one did, I would have said it was probably better that way, but Lexi disagreed. If seeing Kin raked claws over the witch’s wounded heart, having to find him a new girlfriend might rip it right in half. And, if I had to clean up the resulting mess again, I’d be inclined to shoot myself with one of my own arrows.

“I’m sorry, Mona. As I said”—twice now—“I’m booked solid for the next three months. I’m sure you’ll meet a nice woman long before my schedule clears up.” I directed the last bit at Kin.

Keeping a pleasant but slightly cool expression on my face, I flipped my laptop closed to indicate my decision was final and waited for Mona to take the hint. The second hand on my vintage wall clock ticked away almost half a minute while she squinted at me.

I couldn’t explain myself or that the only way I would ever get involved in Kin’s love life was if he happened to step into my sights sporting a shiny little heart symbol above his head. Then there would be irrefutable proof he had moved on. The kind the witch who cried in my head at night couldn’t ignore.

“What happened to turn you so cold? You’re like a totally different person.” Mona’s voice interrupted my thoughts and carried a twinge of sadness, though why it would make any difference to her made no sense to me. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Lexi. But I don’t particularly care for this version of you.”

For a second, my whole body tensed in panic, but then I realized Mona was just referring to my refusal to take on Kin as a client, and not the fact that the friend she used to know had deferred control of her mind and body to a bow-wielding goddess who might carry the same memories, but not the same reactions.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mona.” I glanced pointedly at the clock. “But I do have to get on with my day. It really was nice to meet you, Kin.”

The second Mona left, her shoulders hunched in disappointment, I promptly forgot about her visit. Of course, I should have known she wouldn’t be content to let sleeping dogs lie—which Flix courteously pointed out even though it was unnecessary to do so.

“She won’t let this go, you know.” He chided from the doorway where he’d been eavesdropping. “She’s like a hound when she gets on a scent. I told you this would happen if you let her shoehorn her way into your personal life.”

“Yes, well, thank you for the information, Captain Obvious. I’ve got it under control, so don’t worry about it.” I shooed him back to work even while the little voice in my head told me I was being overly harsh.

If becoming entirely friendless was part of your plan, Alexis, it’s working.

Maybe if I just ignored her, she’d shut up, but something told me I’d be a fool to bet money on it.