"We need to talk," the girl began as she and Kevin were in the kitchen, away from prying eyes and ears.
"About what?" the man put the champagne bottle on the kitchen table and folded his arms over his chest.
He was clearly pleased with himself.
No, objectively Kevin Claren was not that bad. Tall, broad-shouldered. A promising player in the national rugby team. Hot fantasy for teenage girls.
To Emily, he looked like a huge grizzly bear. So fragile and small she was next to him. He could totally crush her.
"I suggest we stop all this game with matchmaking. You and I are different people. But our grandmothers don't seem to see it. Talk to Mrs. Claren. Tell her that it is not gonna work . Tell her you do not like me, or whatever you come up with."
"What for?"
What? What for? Who keeps the conversation going like that?!
Emily took four glasses out of the cupboard and began to work on the bottle. The "assistant" was clearly in no hurry to help. Well, to hell with him.
