Seeking A Second Chance (#MatchMade Book 2) Read online

  Seeking A Second Chance

  Emma Tharp

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Emma Tharp

  One

  Maren

  "My match worked out," Lily says, and she’s actually glowing. How is it possible that your skin looks better when you're dating and happy? I certainly wouldn't know. "Savannah found me the perfect man, but I think with the fine-tuning I've done on the questionnaire, we can get better results with more personal information." Lily, the matchmaking firm’s psychologist, hands us each a paper copy of the new questionnaire.

  "That’s why I brought you all here today. I had a chance to look it over and I love the changes.” Savannah claps her hands together. “Maren, I'll have you update the website.” She points her red pen in my direction, all business.

  "Okay. I'm on it," I tell her. As #MatchMade's web and graphic designer, I love my job, including basic update rollouts.

  Four months ago, when Savannah sat the four of us, all college best friends, down to tell us she was opening a matchmaking firm and wanted us all to be a part of it, I jumped at the chance. Even though we all have other jobs, we devote as much time as we can to #MatchMade. So far, the business is doing better than any of us could have imagined. The website gets thousands of hits, amazing reviews, and positive testimonials every week.

  “Maren, Vivi, and Delaney, I'd like you to fill out the updated forms."

  I scan the document, knowing I’m going to give it one hundred percent. I'll attempt to put my best foot forward. I desperately want this to work. "Does anyone else here have their match yet?" I hold my breath. When Savannah texted me yesterday to meet her at the office today, I thought maybe she had my match for me. I’ve tried in vain to keep my excitement at bay.

  Savannah scans the table, giving each of us a warm smile. "Not yet. Be patient. I'm not setting you guys up with just anyone. Lily was lucky. I found hers first. But I'm going to find your perfect matches." Her eyes land on me last.

  I'm sure I look like the puppy at the pound whose eyes light up every time someone new walks through the doors. I want to find love with every fiber of my being.

  At twenty-seven, I have an amazing apartment and a career I love. It’s the right time to find a partner and settle down. My dream is to have a family of my own one day, too. It's hard not to get my hopes up after seeing how happy Lily is with her match, Oliver. She's been on cloud nine since they started dating a couple months ago. That's what I want, but haven’t been able to find.

  “Everything looks good. I’ll get this done and turned in as soon as I can,” Vivi says, thumbing through the pages with an air of someone who couldn’t care less. Not about the business part—there, she’s all in. But about love? It’s like she gave up after her breakup and is fine with that. I’m sad for her. She deserves love as much as any of us.

  Savannah nods. “Be sure to take your time with it. Think your answers through thoroughly. You’ll have the best chance at your perfect match that way.” She’s passionate about her role as a matchmaker. She comes from a long line of them. It’s her dream to make this business work and to set us all up with the perfect partner. It was part of the deal we all made when she approached us to come to work with her. We would each be a part of the business, but we also had to agree to be set up at least once.

  "You have your work cut out for you," I tell Savannah. "I'm sure you don't have many men in the database that want to date socially awkward, nerdy artists." All the rest of my friends are beautiful and outgoing. Savannah won’t have any problem setting them up. It’s me I’m worried about.

  Savannah waves her hand in the air, dismissing the notion. "Maren, you’re a catch, and the absolute best artist I know."

  "You're so pretty, kind, and creative. Any guy would be lucky to have a chance to date you," Delaney, the firm's computer programmer, says. "The algorithms will work. You just need to be patient."

  Lily tilts her head and eyes me with a glint in her dark blues. “You know how skeptical I was, and it worked for me. Somehow, Savannah found my perfect match. This will work for you. Have faith.”

  “You’re fantastic, Maren. Trust the process,” Vivi adds, pushing her long dark hair over her shoulder.

  Blushing, I fan my face with my questionnaire. "Thanks, guys." I love my friends and the kind words they share. They believe it could work for me. Maybe they’re right.

  I'm afraid if this doesn't work out, I'm destined to be alone forever.

  Later, at my apartment, the lighting is perfect, and hearing my friends talk about my art has me wanting to paint. It’s been too long.

  My easel is set up at a north facing window, the sun is peeking in, and there’s no trace of a glare on the canvas. Coldplay streams through the speakers, Chris Martin singing about a sky full of stars. The stage is set to create.

  Time ticks by as I hum to the music and stare at the canvas.

  It should be full of color.

  So why is the damn thing blank?

  Inspiration is not on my side today. I’m not sure why I even tried, but when I came home from work and saw the warm rays of natural night beaming through the windows, I had to attempt it. It’s why I chose this uptown loft. I saw hours of creativity sitting in this exact spot, and yet, here I am with nothing accomplished.

  I’m sure this is why my dad wouldn’t pay for my college education if my major was art. He didn’t want me to be a starving artist. Surely that would be my fate if I didn’t listen to him. I turned to graphic design, which was still art, then made web design a double major. When I told my father I was working in computers, he finally stopped pushing me. I set my paintbrush down, tug my apron off, and send a silent thank you to my dad.

  Walking through my living room on the way to the kitchen, I stop and glance to the wall at one of my favorite paintings I’ve ever done. It’s an abstract that took me weeks to finish. Pride fills me staring at the metamorphosis of the piece. It started out simple and became beautiful. I painted it when I was dating my ex. That might be a stretch. We weren’t actually dating. It was more of a friends-with-benefits relationship that ended over a year ago, along with my creativity.

  I wonder now if I’ll ever find it again.

  Two

  Bennett

  "This round is on me." I lift my pint to my three best friends and have my first well-deserved sip.

  Richie gives me a devilish grin. It’s his favorite facial expression, a result of his mischievous personality. “Why are you in such a good mood? Finally get laid?”

  I wish. This dry spell is starting to get to me. Ignoring his question, I say, "It's been a great week. I got my hands on a rare painting for a client. Earned a nice commission today." As an art dealer, that's my job: buying and selling art for my clients. At times, I have to travel to different cities or out of the country to acquire pieces of art. It's my passion. Since I was never any good as an artist, this allows me to pair my love of art with making money.

  "Congrats, buddy. Nice work," Stan says, swatting my shoulder in support.

  "Yeah, congrats," Bobby says, angling hi
s pint glass toward me. "But didn’t you have a date last weekend?"

  Leave it to my buddies to ride me about my dating life. They won’t leave me alone until I come clean either. "Yeah. It was all right."

  "So, you didn't sleep with her?" Bobby goads.

  I take a long drink of my beer. "I wasn't feeling it. She's cute, but she kept going on and on about her ex-boyfriend. I had to cut the night short."

  Stan scratches his bald head and sets his empty pint on the bar. "What about the lady that Connie set you up with last month? How did it go?" he asks. His live-in girlfriend took it upon herself to set me up on a blind date last month. It was sweet of her, but it didn't work out.

  "She was great. We exchanged numbers and I called her to set up another date but she never got back to me."

  It seems to be the trend lately for me, either I’m vibing with my date and she’s not feeling it, or vice versa. I can’t seem to get in sync with anyone. It’s beginning to wear on me.

  "You aren’t having any luck, are you?" Stan gives me a sympathetic grin. "I can ask Connie if she has any other friends."

  Bobby smooths down his shirt and runs his fingers through his hair. "What's wrong with being single? There's less hassle. Nobody to answer to."

  Bobby is definitely the player of the group. And while he might have a point, I don't see myself staying single forever. That isn’t my plan. I miss the company of a woman. In more ways than one.

  "Just because you’re going to be a bachelor forever doesn't mean everyone wants to be." Richie taps his watch. "Speaking of which, I'm going to have to take off soon. I have to take my girl to dinner."

  My jaw snaps open. "You have a girlfriend? How?" Last I knew, Richie was also single.

  Richie comes up to stand beside me and throws his arm over my shoulder. "I know how lonely you've been. The problem is your method. Do you really know what you want?"

  "Yeah." A woman I’m compatible with, in and out of the bedroom. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, although I’m starting to believe it might be.

  Richie walks us toward the bar, leaving the other guys behind. "What you’re doing isn't working."

  "Forgive me for saying this, but how the hell would you know?"

  He pulls his phone out of his pocket and types something into a browser. "Try this dating site. It worked for me. I think I found the one." The devilish grin is back again.

  "No, I don't think so." I do my best to hide the skepticism and negativity from my tone.

  "Why not? What do you have to lose? How long has it been since you've gotten laid?"

  I hang my head. It's been over six months.

  Six very long months.

  "Exactly." He pushes his cell phone in front of me on the bar. "Go through these questions. They’re quick and easy. You'll see. It might work."

  Reluctantly, I lean my elbows on the bar and scroll through the questions. It all seems like a big waste of time. And how do I even describe myself? Does anyone read these things?

  Describe my ideal Sunday morning? Breakfast in bed, followed by lots of sex. No, I should delete that. How about, let’s make breakfast together and go for a walk with my dogs? Is that what women want to hear?

  What makes you tick? Damn. These questions are no joke. I scratch my head, digging through my brain for the best answer to this question. Art. And spending time with my friends. But that makes me sound like a loser, like I don’t have a life outside of my job.

  Richie sticks his head over my shoulder. “How’s it going?”

  I shoo him away. “Give me another minute.”

  “Okay. I just need my phone soon. I have to get going.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have given it to me to begin with,” I huff, annoyed that I even agreed to this shit.

  I answer the rest of the questions as fast as possible, barely giving them any thought, then I check all the user agreement boxes and hit submit.

  Richie smirks as I hand him back his phone. “You’re going to thank me for this.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Why is my gut telling me that this is a huge mistake?

  Three

  Maren

  I've made it through a couple of cups of tea this morning at the #MatchMade office. Savannah isn’t in yet, which is probably for the best, since every time she walks by, I find myself tensing up. Like she might stop by my office and drop a bomb on my desk. Or worse—she might not.

  It's been just over two weeks since I submitted my updated questionnaire.

  I know these things take time, I'm just impatient.

  "Want anything from the coffee shop?" Vivi pokes her head around my office door.

  "Sure, I'll take a chai. The usual." I close my laptop screen and gesture for her to come in.

  She saunters in looking sleek as ever in a pair of black leather leggings, stilettos, and a royal blue turtleneck sweater. Her long dark hair, silky and shiny, lays straight down her back. "What's up?"

  "Do you have your match yet?" I hold my breath.

  She shakes her head and bats her long eyelashes. "Nope. And I'm in no rush."

  It wasn't too long ago that she went through a bad breakup. She has her guard up, but I think it would be good for her to find someone new and move on.

  Tapping my fingers on the desk, I exhale a long breath. "Well, let me know when you get it."

  "You’re pretty anxious to get yours, aren’t you?"

  "I'm doing my best to be patient, but ever since Savannah told us she was matching us, I’ve been excited," I admit, leaning back in my chair. Since I haven’t had any luck finding a boyfriend, I’m hoping Savannah and her matchmaking skills will pull through for me.

  Vivi shrugs a single shoulder. "Savannah says we can't rush these things. Don’t stress. All in due time. I'm going to run to the coffee shop now. I'll be back in a minute." She flashes me a big, red-lipped smile and charges out the door. Even though we live in North Carolina, she still moves around quick and efficient, like she's still in New York City where she's from.

  Opening my laptop, I continue working on some updates for the website, when heels click on tile, alerting me someone has entered the office. Vivi really is fast.

  I'm surprised to see it’s Savannah, all blonde hair, curled to perfection in a navy power suit with a bright pink button-down underneath the blazer. "Good morning," she chirps, stopping in front of my office door.

  "Hi. I wasn't sure you'd be in this morning."

  She comes all the way into my office and opens her shoulder bag, pulling out a big red envelope with a gold bow around it. "I had to prepare this. For you." She sets it on my desk.

  My heart starts beating double time. "Is this what I think it is?"

  Savannah's face beams with a smile. "It is. Open it."

  Slowly, I tug off the bow and break the wax seal. Possibilities run through my head. Will he be tall or short, sweet or broody, handsome or quirky? At this point, none of that matters. What does is if he will get me. So far, I don’t think any guy has.

  When I pull out the paper, my heart lodges itself in my throat. Dare I dream? "It says his name is Bennett Parks. I went to high school with a Bennett Parks. I wonder if it's the same guy."

  "I'm not sure. Why don't you call him? His number is on the paper." She slings her bag high on her shoulder and turns to walk out the door. "Good luck." And with that, she's gone.

  I open a web browser on my computer and start doing research. A little bit of internet stalking shows me that Bennett is still in Charlotte. It has to be him.

  Facebook is gold. Bennett has a public profile set up. There are pics of him at football games, with his friends, and even a couple with his dogs. My pulse flutters at his handsome smile. His brown hair is a little longer than it was in high school, and his hazel eyes are just as captivating.

  Back in school, I fawned over him, but he never reciprocated. I might've been a little overzealous with him. My hormonal teenaged self didn’t know the meaning of control. We took art c
lasses together and always entered the same art shows and contests.

  I wonder what he's going to think when he finds out that I’m his match. I can only imagine the look on his face when he sees that it’s me he has to date. Will he be disappointed? I wonder if he’ll internet stalk me?

  Fanning myself with a piece of paper from my desk, I sit back in my chair and stare at the page open on my computer screen.

  “Hey.” Vivi sashays into my office and sets my chai in front of me. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

  “What look?”

  “Like it’s Christmas morning.”

  I laugh and turn my laptop screen to face her. It’s a picture of Bennett and a few of his buddies on a golf course somewhere. He looks good in the picture. His skin is bronzed from a day spent on the links, and his hazel eyes are shining like he must’ve been golfing well that day and had a few drinks. “Savannah gave me my match, and it’s a guy I crushed on all through high school.”

  She leans in as her eyes scan the screen. “He’s hot. I can see the two of you together. He has great eyes.”

  “He does. I remember staring into those hazel eyes back in school, wishing he'd give me the time of day. Looks like he has to now.” A jolt of nerves runs through my body.

  Vivi stands up and gives me one of her radiant, sunny smiles. “Show him who you are. You’re brilliant!”

  We have three dates. Hopefully in that time I can convince him that I'm not the same girl he knew back in high school. Three dates to convince him that we’re matched for a reason. “I have my work cut out for me.”

  Four