Matchmake Up Your Mind: Don't Ruin Katie's Wedding, #3

By Ellie Cahill

The plan: Joy is going to be the best bridesmaid ever for her college BFF Katie's wedding. And to add to the fun, Katie is playing matchmaker! She's sure Joy and handsome groomsman Tom are perfect for each other. Joy is so ready for a happily ever after of her own!

 

The reality: Tom doesn't seem the slightest bit interested in Joy. The wedding seems determined to be a disaster. And then there's the fact that Joy keeps finding herself falling into bed with her friend Charlie. Oops.

 

The match? Not made in heaven. The bride? On the brink. Joy's friendship with Charlie? Full of benefits that might be a little too beneficial to ignore…

 

Matchmake Up Your Mind is a stand-alone romantic comedy that is part of the Don't Ruin Katie's Wedding Series. They can be read in any order!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Liz Czukas
• Release date: Mar 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201507077

Book preview

Chapter

One

A MEDIOCRE BOWLER AND A BAD DATE, APPARENTLY

From the moment the ball leaves my hand, I know what’s going to happen. It’s a perfect straight ball, appearing to glide more than roll. The only problem is it’s staying exactly centered on the middle arrow.

Crash! The pins explode out of formation.

Yep. Just like I thought, it’s a 7-10 Split.

Behind me, my teammates groan.

I spin around on the slick soles of my rental shoes with an apologetic face. Sorry!

You can get it. Spencer claps his hands twice, hard. You can still get this.

On the other side of the table, Kira shakes her head. She knows I can’t get this. But, still, she says, You got this, Joy!

You just gotta hit the Seven on the outside! Spencer calls.

Or the Ten! Mikhail says.

I nod at them. But I’m not going to make it.

The ball return makes its whirr-thud sound as my orange ball pops into view. I pick it up and find my starting spot on the floor. A deep breath, and I pace off my four steps, drawing the ball back and swinging through for the release.

Not only do I not pick up the split, the ball slides into the gutter at the last second and I don’t get any pins.

Damn.

I turn to face my team. They’ve got the screwed up expressions of people who know you just sucked but want to be supportive.

It’s okay! Kira declares. Don’t worry about it.

Mikhail turns toward the bar and shouts, Charlie! No mark!

At the adjacent lane, our opponents are dancing a ridiculous victory dance. Nice ball! Roger cackles.

"Man, I’m so thirsty! Our opponent Bash rubs at his throat. I could really use a beer!"

Beer’s coming, Spencer flips them off good-naturedly. Why don’t you bowl?

I flop into a seat next to Kira. I knew I wasn’t gonna get the spare.

I know. Kira pats my leg. We all did.

Stupid beer frame. If I’d managed a better first ball, I might have had a shot at getting a mark. I’m not the best bowler in the world; a strike wasn’t likely, but if I get a decent first ball I can get the spare. Most of the time. Some of the time. Occasionally.

Charlie returns from the bar with two pitchers of beer in his hands. One he sets on the table at our lane, and the other he delivers to our opponents for the night.

Ahh, there it is! Bash has his cup out before the pitcher even hits their table.

Nice doing business with you. Roger rubs his hands together. It’s not an official league rule, but most of the teams abide by the informal rule that the fifth frame is a beer frame. Whichever team has the lowest score buys the other team a pitcher.

Fuck off, Charlie mutters. Most teams also abide by the informal rule that any and all trash talking is strongly encouraged.

Spence, you’re up, Kira reminds our teammate.

Charlie takes the seat beside me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Sorry, I say.

He glances back at me, smiles, and says Don’t worry about it. At least we’re better looking! loud enough for the guys at the next lane to hear.

I’ll show you better looking… Bash says.

Charlie laughs, making me think there was an obscene gesture that went with those words. Then he looks at me. Next round’s on you.

I hold out a loose fist for him to bump his knuckles on as he gets up to take his turn. He gets a strike, turns and huffs on his nails before polishing them against his chest.

Show off, I tell him, even as I hold a hand up for a high five.

He takes the seat beside me again and holds his right hand up with his long fingers in position like he’s still got his ball. Would you like to touch the hand? Might bring you good luck.

I shove his hand toward his face to make him swat himself, but he resists, laughing. It’s Charlie’s fault I’m on this team in the first place. We were both in the computer science department at the University of Michigan, so he was the only person I knew when I moved to Wisconsin for a job after graduation. We work for the same tech company, in the outskirts of Madison. It’s long hours, and lots of travel for the job, so it can be tough to find time for a social life. Charlie joined a bowling league with other coders from his team, and invited me to join. It was something to do on Friday nights, so I agreed.

Now, a year later, my game has improved slightly, but Charlie is still way better. He loves to remind me of it, too.

We wrap up our second game just a few pins shy of victory over our opponents. Since we won the first game of the series, the pressure is on for game three. Not that we really care that much about being the winners of our bowling league. What we do care about is smack-talking rights.

In the short lull between games, I check my phone for messages. I don’t dare go near my email on a Friday night. I don’t want to know how many work-related items are waiting for me. But I check my texts and the various private messages on my apps. There’s a little red dot on the corner of MeetCute and my heart jumps.

I’ve been chatting with a guy named Keith on the app for weeks now. We have a lot in common—we’re both originally from Indiana, we both love sci-fi movies and Korean barbecue, and we’re both obsessed with an online game—DOTA 2, which is how we got matched in the first place. But so far we haven’t managed to meet in person yet. I gave him my travel schedule for the next two weeks, and I’m hoping his message will be to set up an actual in-person date.

But what it says is,

I’ve enjoyed chatting with you. Your work schedule is intense. I am looking for something a little more spontaneous and easy than that. So I don’t think we should meet. Maybe I’ll see you in the game. - K

I click my screen off and toss the phone on the seat beside me. Then I pick it up, read the message again, and repeat the tossing. I reach for it a third time, but stop myself and cross my arms instead. Then I reach for it again and click the screen to life, but shut it off before I can read the message.

You okay? Kira asks. She’s standing at the high top table, pouring another beer into her cup.

Fine. I reach for the phone again, but force myself to shove it in my pocket without looking.

What’s wrong?

Stupid guy on stupid MeetCute.

Oh no, what happened?

I’m surprised to find my eyes burn as I contemplate answering. Why am I even upset? I never even met this guy. Not really. But my jaw aches from clenching and my heart is banging in my chest. Apparently I’m not spontaneous or easy enough.

Who’s easy? Charlie wanders back into the conversation from wherever he was. Probably the bathroom.

MeetCute, Kira says sagely.

You’re on that thing? he asks her.

Not me. Joy.

Charlie looks at me in surprise. You’re doing MeetCute?

I don’t know! How else am I supposed to meet anyone?

You meet people constantly, he says.

I meet clients all the time, I reply.

We work on a campus with thousands of people, he retorts. And most of them are under 30. It’s true. The commitment required by our company means that most people burn out quickly unless they move up to a managerial position. There’s too much travel, too many demands on our time. It’s the exact reason Keith doesn’t want to date me.

I don’t see thousands of people every day, I point out. Just the same dozen or so on my team.

Still, Charlie says. I’m certain you could meet a hundred people a day if you tried.

"Do you meet a hundred people a day?" I challenge.

I’m not trying to, he says.

Just…just… I flap my hands at him. Go bowl or something.

He’s our first player, so it’s up to him to send the ball down the lane to start game three. But he’s more interested in this conversation.

So what happened on MeetCute?

With a loud sigh, I pull my phone out and show him the message.

He shrugs. So what? There’s got to be other guys on there.

There are. I tap into my inbox and show him another message. This one is from last month.

You’re a little too into your job for me. Looking for someone more flexible.

And another:

You’re too busy to even answer a text? You don’t have to be so fake. Just tell me you’re not interested. You don’t have to be a bitch.

You’re not that hot anyway.

Ugly bitch.

There are more, if you want me to keep going.

Fuuuck that, he says. Why are you talking to assholes like that?

They don’t start out that way, I say.

They never do, Kira agrees.

Charlie shakes his head. You should get off that app. You don’t need that kind of shit in your life.

I’m aware of that, I tell him. But I wouldn’t mind having a boyfriend, so…

I think I’d rather have a boyfriend robot, Kira says thoughtfully. One I could just turn on when I want to, and stick in a closet when I’m busy.

I sigh. Mine would end up in the closet a lot.

Charlie slaps his hands on his knees as he gets up to take his turn. Right then. Back to bowling.

Chapter

Two

MI POPPER ES SU POPPER

We win our last game by only three pins, which means we win the series but by only one pin. This is hardly a glorious victory, but it’s almost more fun to barely scrape by because we can gloat to the other team so outrageously.

After the game, we relocate to the adjacent sports bar for a few more drinks to round out the night. I switch to water, since I drove, and I shamelessly steal bites of other people’s food.

When I reach for a second jalepeño popper from Charlie’s basket, he bats my hand away. Get your own!

Oh, I’m sorry did you not want a ride home? I ask.

He gives me a dirty look, but shoves the basket closer so I can take a popper. I smile winningly. He rolls his eyes.

Oh, hey, I’m gonna see Katie tomorrow, I tell him.

She’s coming to Verona?

No. I have to drive to Rochester, Minnesota. We have an appointment to try on bridesmaid dresses with her sister and her mom.

Charlie narrows his amber eyes in confusion. Rochester? I thought she was in Minneapolis.

Yeah. But her dad had an appointment at the Mayo Clinic today and they knew it was a little closer to me.

Is it? I don’t even know where Rochester is.

Not that much closer, I admit. It’s still a 3 hour drive for me.

Bloody pain in the ass.

It’ll be nice to see her.

True. He shrugs one shoulder. Jesse hasn’t said anything about what we’re wearing yet. Charlie is one of the groomsmen for the same wedding I am a bridesmaid for. Our good friends from undergrad, Katie and Jesse are getting married in August. So far, it’s been a pretty low-key gig. Tomorrow is my first big outing in my capacity as bridesmaid.

Maybe I’ll find out tomorrow, I say. Want me to give her any suggestions?

Like what?

Oh, I don’t know. Should I tell her you’ve secretly always wanted to wear a neon green tuxedo?

You know me so well. Charlie takes a bite of a popper and somehow manages to chew it sarcastically.

Or maybe you’d prefer to wear what the bridesmaids are wearing?

That’s it. He nods. Just remember I look best in lavender.

Huh. I would have pegged you as more of an autumn. I have no idea what I’m talking about. Charlie has sandy blond hair that hangs in spirals over his forehead and ears and goldish-hazel eyes that are closer to the brown end of the spectrum than the green, with fair, freckle-prone skin that is probably helping keep the sunscreen industry afloat. What season is that? Who knows, and more importantly who cares?

Who are we kidding? I can make anything look good. He fluffs the curly ends of his hair that hang down around his ears. Charlie has been in need of a haircut as long as I’ve known him. Somehow it never seems to get much longer than it is now, but it also never seems to get shorter. I don’t know how he does it.

Careful, there, Charles. Wouldn’t want to upstage the groom.

He grins, though he hates it when I call him Charles, and answers in a Cockney accent. Shouldna chose such a handsome bloke to stand up with him, then, should he have? This would be much more annoying if he weren’t so damn good at it. Charlie was born in England, and moved to the U.S. with his family when he was nine. So he can slide back and forth between English and American accents with ease. And somehow, he seems capable of any variant of the English accent. Though it’s possible that my American ears are simply not capable of determining his accuracy.

I shake my head at him. Oh brother.

Charlie tosses back the last of his beer, pops the last bite of jalepeño popper in his mouth and nods at me. Ready?

There are dozens of apartment buildings in town that were all purpose-built to hold the sudden boom of employees at our company’s massive campus when they built their headquarters here a few years back. Charlie and I live in different buildings in the same complex, so we carpool for bowling. We take turns driving, and tonight is my night.

Our trip home is short and only requires a couple of turns. It’s not enough time for my ears to stop ringing after the noise of the bowling alley and the bar. So I don’t understand Charlie the first time he speaks.

What?

You can park in your spot, he says in a louder tone. I can walk from there.

It’s no problem. I already plan to ignore his suggestion. Our buildings are close enough to see each other, but it’s not a straight shot. And Charlie would never leave me to walk that far alone in the dark.

He doesn’t repeat his offer, and he thanks me when I pull all the way up to the entry. After he lets himself out of the car, he leans down to look at me, hand propped on the open door. I’ll be ‘round your place tomorrow. Ajit booked the big room for a gaming session. You should come after you get back from your thing with Katie.

Yeah, okay. I nod. Ajit is one of my neighbors, and also a software developer. He and Charlie are on the same work team. I do essentially the same job with a different team in a different building.

Cool. See you then. He starts to close the door, then halts it and leans in again. Stay off MeetCute, yeah? You can do better.

I roll my eyes. Good night, Charlie.

He tips two fingers off his forehead. Joy.

And although I would normally wait for a friend to get safely into his building, I know he’ll instead stand outside and watch until he knows I’ve got the garage coded open. That’s just Charlie.

Chapter

Three

MAKE ME A MATCH

I can’t imagine who thought fluorescent lights were the way to go in a bridal salon. Don’t they want people to fall in love with the way they look? Don’t they want these overpriced dresses to waltz out the door with blissfully happy brides who looked like a million bucks under forgiving, warm lighting? Maybe