Page 69 of Matchmaking On The Menu

I blink at the screen like she can see me. “Yeah,” I say. “I got an email about it earlier.”

I hit send and wait. “Oh,” Dannica says. “Wait⁠—”

I hold my breath.

“I think I just got it.”

I smile. “See?”

She huffs lightly. “Fine. I’ll pick it up.”

“You’re the best,” I say sweetly. “I owe you.”

“You already owe me,” she mutters.

“Details.”

I hang up before she can ask anything else and glance over at the shop owner, who’s still eating like the world might end if he slows down.

Email sent.

Bike in progress.

Pickup arranged.

Everything is moving exactly as it should.

I pull out my phone because, clearly, I’m doing great decision-making today. I open my browser and type:

how to damage a bike so it still works for ten minutes

I stare at the screen.

Then add:

hypothetically

14

MARY

THIS IS TECHNICALLY A GOOD DEED

Luke and I have been friends since my family moved in next door to his when I was ten and he was thirteen. I used to sit and watch him tinker away on cars with his dad, completely fascinated by the way he worked.

Not much has changed in the twelve years since.

I still get that same warm, settled feeling watching him now. He’s half under a car, music leaking out of the radio in lazy, uneven waves, grease smeared across his jeans like it belongs there. Like this is exactly where he’s meant to be. And seeing him like this, comfortable and focused, fills me with something soft and steady. It always has.

He doesn’t notice me at first. When Luke’s working, the rest of the world tends to fall away, leaving just him and whatever he’s fixing. I’ve always found the predictability of that so comforting. The way his hands move with quiet certainty, working on instinct more than anything else. No hesitation, no second-guessing. Just a steady, practiced rhythm.

It makes him easy to talk to. Actually, he’s about the only guy I can talk to. Being as shy as I am isn’t for sissies. That’s why I picked him for my plan.

Guilt swirls low in my stomach at the thought, because it means I didn’t just come here to talk to Luke. I came here because I knew he’d say yes.

I watch him longer than is probably polite, letting the silence stretch while I rehearse, again, what I’m going to say. On the way over, I ran through this part more times than I care to admit.

Earlier at the diner, someone made one of those loud, “adorable” jokes about me being the baby of the group while I was topping off the sugar canisters. Everyone laughed. I smiled.