Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“But I’m here with you,” Troy said. “I don’t want to talk about another woman right now. I want to talk about you. How’d you get into matchmaking?” His smile was like a physical caress. “Were you always a matchmaker, even when you were a kid?”
The man had it so right. Was she that transparent? And yet, she wanted to tell him everything. That’s what he did to her—made her want to spill her guts rather than think about matching him with some other woman.
“You make me laugh because you’re uncannily spot-on,” she said. “I was always matching my friends in middle school and high school. Boyfriends, yes, but also new friends I thought they’d like, or even hairstyles or clothing styles. My mom has always been an amazing seamstress. That’s how she put food on the table back when I was growing up and we lived in Modesto.” She enjoyed telling this story because it made her realize all over again how remarkable her mother was. “We’d go to rummage sales and thrift stores and find all these incredible bargains. My mom could make the simplest thing into something cool that all the other girls loved. I’d find something that was perfect for a friend of mine, and then they’d start asking me to find other things for them. Being a budding businesswoman, I’d add a markup, since Mom always made adjustments to whatever we found. Bringing home a little cash made me feel like I brought something to the table too.”
His head tilted slightly, and she could almost read the thought bubble above his head.
“I know what you’re wondering. How did I get into Stanford?” She’d seen him check out the diploma in her office.
“Actually, I was thinking what an amazing young woman you must’ve been.”
She blushed and rushed on, “I got a scholarship to Stanford. A full ride.”
His gaze was so penetrating, so brilliantly blue. “And I bet your grades were astonishing. All while you were finding the perfect outfits for your friends, and the perfect boyfriends too.”
She felt a sudden chill. “Are you making fun of me?”
He dropped his spoon onto his pad thai. “I mean every word. You don’t get to be the billionaire matchmaker without being awe-inspiring.”
It took her a couple of seconds to find her voice. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t know how hard it had been, watching her mother work late into the night to put food on the table and clothes on their backs. Once she was old enough, Michaela had done everything she could to help her. Then she’d worked toward that scholarship with everything in her in order to give her mother a better life. Her scholarship essay had been about Flo—her tenacity, her can-do-will-do attitude. And Michaela had been accepted. In a way, her mother had even gotten her into Stanford University.
“I couldn’t have done any of it without Mom. She’s my rock.” She took a moment to taste the delicious pad thai, then a bit of the chicken satay with peanut sauce, concentrating on the food because, somehow, the way he looked at her made her heart beat faster.
“And I bet,” he said, “that you did exactly the same thing at Stanford. You matched your friends.”
“Yes,” she had to agree. “I’d pretty much match anything. If one of my friends needed something, like a TV or a bike or whatever, I’d hear about someone else who was trying to get rid of a TV or a bike. And I’d match them.”
“You needed to have your ear to the ground to know all that.”
“I was always a good listener.” Her friends had always said she had a real knack for matchmaking. When someone needed something, she was the go-to person. “When people started coming to me, it was a lot of fun to match them up with whatever they needed.” But it wasn’t only things. It was business ventures too. “I helped to launch a company by getting two of my friends together.”
“Tell me more.”
She’d never talked so much about herself, but Troy put her at ease with his rapt attention. “My friend Gloria was a great programmer. And another friend of mine, Ivan, made money by rushing out to get food from restaurants for students who were bogged down with studying for finals or whatever. I helped them see that their skills complemented each other. And they started their own company even before they graduated. It was pretty amazing.”
His gaze on her turned intense. “Do you mean Gloria and Ivan Madden?” Before she could add anything, he snapped his fingers. “FoodFast. Is that the company you’re talking about? One of the first apps to provide food delivery service?”
She nodded. “Right. Instead of having individual restaurants deliver to you, they worked it so you could have any restaurant deliver.”
He slapped the table. “Holy hell, that’s a billion-dollar company now.”