The Right Swipe by Alisha Rai

Author:Alisha Rai
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-06-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

RHIANNON’S FRENZIED panic had cooled a little on the drive from Santa Barbara to L.A., especially after Samson had finally—finally!—texted her back, but not enough for her to cancel seeing him. The edge of fear and anger was still there when she pulled up in front of Samson’s high-rise condo.

She avoided looking at herself in the mirrors in the elevator on the way up. She didn’t want to think about what she looked like. Probably a mess, since she’d intended to lounge the day and weekend away and not see anyone but Katrina.

Her knuckles barely hit Samson’s door before he opened it. Angels didn’t sing, but a halo of light surrounded him.

Or he’s backlit by the sun, calm down.

He opened the door all the way, and his biceps looked so big and strong and sweet. She wanted to bite them and lay her head against them. “Hey. Good to see you. Come on in.”

She stepped inside and glanced around. Curiosity pierced through her other emotions, though it was misplaced. There was nothing personal in this open-concept corporate-furnished condo. It was all black leather and metal.

“Do you want me to take your sweatshirt?”

She rubbed her hands over her arms, letting the worn material hug her closer. “No.”

He didn’t insist, only gestured at the living room. “Have a seat. Wine?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Water?”

She hadn’t realized it until now, but her throat was parched. “Yes. Please.”

He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge door, grabbing a bottle of water. Restless, she walked to the couch, but didn’t sit down. There were three framed photos on the side table, the only personal effects in the entire room, as far as she could tell. That curiosity reared its head again, and she welcomed the diversion from her darker emotions.

One photo was of Samson crouched next to a wheelchair with who she assumed was his uncle Joe, with the ocean in the background. The older man looked tired and fragile, but happy. His smile was identical to Samson’s, down to the tiny dimple.

She didn’t want to prick his grief by asking about his late uncle. She ran her finger over the photo of Samson and a handsome young couple. Samson held a baby in his arms. The same baby from his Matchmaker profile, the one that had made everyone in the ballroom at CREATE sigh. “This is your goddaughter, right?”

“Yes. My best friend, Dean, and his wife, Josie. Their daughter, Miley.” He walked out from around the granite island and handed her a glass of water. She drank it in a few gulps and handed it back to him. “Thirsty, huh?”

Rage took a lot out of a person. Rhiannon ignored him and touched the last frame. A young Samson, maybe at twelve or thirteen, smiled out at her from a football field.

She could see where he got his size and looks from now. A couple stood behind him, both beaming. The big man’s hand was on Samson’s shoulder, his pride evident. The woman was almost

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