Unmatchable (2 page)

I take another drink of my icy beverage and relax in my chair for five minutes before taking Mister Luis's folder and placing it in the basket on the corner of my desk for the file clerk to pick up later. It will get filed away in the Inactive Clients/Restricted cabinet. The file is already marked for a contract violation, so he'll be banned from ever using our services again, not that I think he would have any interest in it after how I treated him. You never know, though. Sometimes the most despicable ones do try to come back.

When I feel like I'm ready to deal with the next miscreant, I pull their file from the top of the pile of clients I have for the day and flip it open. Not surprisingly, it's another guy. The vast majority of rule breakers and unmatchables are men. They make up about two-thirds of the clients I see on a daily basis.

I look at his profile first. The parts that interest me, at least.

Name: Alfred Barnes

Gender: Male

Age: 29

Height: 6'1

Weight: 187 lbs.

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Blue

Occupation: Restaurant Manager

Subscription Level: Platinum(5 Dates per Month)

Then I look at the sticky note that Dana left on top as to why my boss wants me to get rid of the person.

Only showed up to two out of five dates last month. No call/no show to the other three. Female clients greatly unhappy with their dates. Unmatchable.

I frown, not understanding why someone would pay for such an expensive service and not use it. Our platinum packages cost upwards of five thousand dollars per month whether you go on all of your dates or not. That's a lot of money to piss into the wind.

When I read through the comments that the women who were matched with him left about their dates, I can't help but smirk. Their opinions of him are rather scathing. I can almost feel the anger rising from the page as I read.

Once I'm done reading, I flip to the big reveal; the guy's profile picture. A sardonic laugh passes my lips.
Of course, this guy would be a complete asshat. He's fucking gorgeous.

The clients' profile pictures are taken in our in-house photo studio, but you'd think that this guy had a spread in GQ. Alfred poses for the camera like he's done it a million times before. In his full body photo, he's wearing an expensive looking business suit, all black. His hands are in his pockets and his head is tilted slightly toward the camera. He's giving the camera a half-cocked smile that says he knows he owns the world. Just looking at that smile stirs something inside of me. Hell, any woman would be turned on just by looking at him, so I know I'm not crazy.

The next photo is a head shot accenting all of his features. Tan skin. Dark hair slicked over to the side. Not too long, but not so short that you couldn't run your fingers through it and grab a fistful. It's the kind of hair that would make him look delicious coming up out of the ocean, but that can still be styled into something manageable for a business meeting. His face is covered with stubble. Probably a week without shaving. On someone else, it might look messy. On him, it looks divine. His eyebrows are thick. His nose has a slight curve to it, but it only adds to the charm of his face. Those eyes though. Such a light, dreamy blue. I find myself gazing into them. They're the only soft thing about him.

My chest tightens as I reach over to pick up the phone on my desk and tell the receptionist to send him in. I always get nervous around super attractive men, and they don't get any better looking than this guy. I just have to keep reminding myself that those good looks come at a price. Men like Alfred Barnes are usually assholes. Genetics blessed them with an advantage in this world. He can probably have any woman he wants, which is why he feels it's fine to treat the ones he's not interested in like shit. Or not show up to his dates at all if he doesn't feel like it. Hell, those nights he might have just gone out for meaningless sex. We don't serve that here. All of our clients want to get married, which means...

I flip back to the front of Alfred's file to see what exactly he's looking for. The description of his preferred date is every bit as pretentious as he is.

Looking for someone with an income of or over $100,000 annually. Prefers blonde hair and blue eyes. No kids. Keeps fit and enjoys eating healthy. Preferably is involved in her community, likes politics and isn't religious.

I shake my head and close the folder only seconds before I see the man himself standing in the doorway. His expression is deadpan as he looks at me, but he's still every bit as handsome as he was in his photos. He's wearing a light green button down shirt and gray slacks, and his matching gray jacket is being held over his shoulder by his index finger. The stubble on his face is much shorter, making him appear less rugged than before.

“
Mister Barnes.” I acknowledge him before gesturing to the chair on the other side of my desk. “Please come in and have a seat.”

“
Where's Kristi?” He doesn't budge from the door. “I was supposed to be seeing Kristi today.”

“
Your file has been transferred to me.” I force a smile, though there's no way I can make it look genuine. I haven't even spoken to this guy for five seconds, and he's already being unpleasant.

“
That's not how this goes.”

“
Oh.” I'm surprised by his outlandishly pompous attitude. “Then tell me how you think this is supposed to go, Mister Barnes.”

He looks at me like I'm stupid. “I pay you to set me up on dates. I meet with the same matchmaking professional every time to go over those dates. She gives me feedback. I get matched with more compatible people. I go on more dates,” he rattles off like he's reading from the handbook.

“
Very good.” I clap my hands together, speaking to him like a small child. “Except, there's a bit of a problem. You see, according to your file, you missed over half of your dates. That means you come and see me. If you don't want to see me, then you can leave.” I nod excitedly as if that's exactly what I would like. Truly, it is. The less drama I have to deal with in my day, the better.

“
Well aren't you rude.” He furrows his brow at me.

“
Have a seat, Mister Barnes.” I gesture to the chair again.

“
I have no interest in talking to you.” He turns his nose up to me. “I'm here to speak to Kristi. And
onl
y
Kristi.”

“
Unfortunately, that won't be possible. At this point, you are only allowed to speak to me.”

“
How about I speak to your boss instead?”

“
By all means.” I lean back in my chair.

Mister Asshole grunts at me before disappearing only to return about ten minutes later looking even more ticked off. Anger suits him well. I've found that some men look even sexier when they're pissed off. It's kind of a twisted thing to think.

“
Are you ready to start your appointment, Mister Barnes?” I flip open his file.

He says nothing, though he seems oddly calm as he walks up and hangs his jacket on the back of the chair before taking his seat. He crosses one leg over his knee and clasps his hands together on top of it, staring at me expectantly.

“
You are aware that missing three dates with no call/no show is grounds to terminate your contract,” I begin.

“
I was busy. I'm a busy man.” He looks at me as if his eyes could slice right through me. It's not intimidating me, though. I know that I'm the one in control here.

“
Too busy to pick up your phone and make a one-minute phone call?”

He snorts. “One minute, my ass. You know your damn receptionist puts people on hold for five minutes before she even has the decency to transfer them to where they need to be.”

“
We're busy. A busy office,” I throw his words back at him with a twisted smile.

“
That's bullshit and you know it.” He rolls his eyes.

“
Bullshit or not, you violated your contract. That's on you, not us.”

“
Fine, that was my mistake,” he admits, giving a little. “It won't happen again, I assure you.

“
Now that we've gotten that mess out of the way, you can tell me who you're sending me out with next.” He pushes the placard with my name on it out of the way and uses the space to prop up his elbow.

I glare at his elbow as if I could set it ablaze. The nerve of him to be such a dick. Slowly, my eyes make their way back up to his face, which I kinda want to punch. Any attraction that I felt for him before is now completely gone.

“
No one,” my voice is clipped.

“
Excuse me.” He raises an eyebrow.

“
Did I stu-stu-stutter? You don't get more dates. You're out.”

Laughter bellows from his stomach, and he wipes his eye with the back of his hand before looking at me with an amused grin. For a second, I think I'm going crazy. Did this asshole really just laugh at me? What in the hell is wrong with him?

“
Did you really just?” He makes circles with his hand in the air while he catches his breath. “Did you really just say that? Man, you are something else.”

My face turns about fifty shades of red with my rising anger. “Do you think this is funny?”

“
Hilarious, but that's beside the point.” He gestures at me dismissively while regaining his composure. “Seriously, when is my next date?”

“
Wow, you're arrogant, stupid AND deaf. Amazing. It's obvious that the only thing you've got going for you is looks. That doesn't work here though. Our clients deserve better.”

All humor disappears from his face as if I just slapped him. “I think you forgot that I am one of your clients, Miss.” He glances down at the placard. “Emily.”

“
You're illiterate too. Brilliant! The name is Ember.” I pick up the placard and point to my name. “Em-ber. You know, like fire.”

“
Oh man, you are getting my blood pressure up. I'm impressed.” The smile returns as he leans back in his seat and is silent for several seconds while he ponders something. “How about this? Let's start over. I realize that I messed up. I won't do it again. Now give me my dates for the month.”

My mouth falls open in disbelief that he thinks there's still a snowball's chance in hell that he's going to get his way. “You don't get any dates this month. Or next month. Or the month after. Or ever, for that matter.”

“
Why not?” He seems completely unfazed.

“
Because the two dates that you did have left horrible reviews for you.”

“
Lies.”

“
Read them yourself.” I turn his file around and push it towards him.

He picks it up and scans through the comments, then he tosses the folder back down on my desk. “Lies,” he tells me again.

“
Really? You come in here acting like
this
, and you expect me to believe that both of those women were lying.”

“
I don't trust that's what they really said. Someone else could have written that into my file. Maybe whoever took down their comments was having a bad day.”

I've had about enough of this dickhole. I grab the folder and turn it around, picking up the phone on my desk and punching the speakerphone button before dialing in the first number.

“
Hello,” a woman answers on the second ring.

“
Hi. Is this Miss Sydney Shrader?”

“
Yes, it is.”

“
Hi, Sydney. This is Ember Washington from Full Hearts Matchmaking Service. How are you?”

“
I'm fine.”

“
Good. Great. I was calling because I wanted to ask you about one of your past dates with a man named Alfred. Can you tell me how that date went?”

“
Ugh.” I can almost picture her shivering on the other end of the line. “I don't even want to remember it.”

“
I know. I apologize for your bad experience, but it would really be helpful if I could get more feedback from you.”

“
That guy was horrible. He took me out to karaoke and then left me at our table to go talk to another woman at the bar. I've never felt more disrespected in my entire life.”

“
Thank you, Miss Shrader. That's all I needed to know. Your feedback has been very helpful.”

“
You're welcome.”

“
You have a great day.”

“
You too.”

I hang up the phone and glare at Mister Barnes. “You left her to go talk to another woman. Really?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I wasn't that attracted to her. Do you really expect me to waste my night with a woman I'm not attracted to?”