Mix 'N Match (No Match for Love) (5 page)

Zoey took a sip of wine. The dark wood paneling of the Trophy Room pressed in on her, whispering,
“You were wrong.”
Again.

No. Mitch was wrong. Not Zoey.

She forced herself to focus on the laughing women around the rich mahogany table, set with fine china and more forks than Zoey knew what to do with. She’d never been to Club 33, but had to admit, the atmosphere was impressively magical, if a little “boy’s club” for her taste. They had the entire Trophy Room to themselves—Zoey wondered how much that extra perk had cost Luke—and everyone seemed to be having fun. Concept art from various animated films hung in ornate frames on the walls, and in one corner there was an animatronic vulture they’d had fun conversing with when they first arrived.

Nearly everyone was finished with the main course. Perfect. Zoey glanced at the round table in another corner of the room, piled high with presents, which Mitch had arranged to have delivered so the guests wouldn’t have to carry them through the park. They’d open presents, eat dessert, and then head out to the park with their multitude of fast passes, compliments of Club 33, and hit the rides.

This party would be a home run. No weirdo stalker would ruin that.

For the next hour, Zoey tried to forget about Alan—and Mitch—while Brooke opened presents and they enjoyed dessert. Disneyland was a big park, and it only made sense that someone would have the same dark hair and average build as Alan.

He wasn’t a reporter. He wasn’t a celebrity-obsessed fan hoping to sell a story. He wasn’t
here.
She was over-thinking things at best and paranoid at worst.

Curse you, Mitchell Harris!
Why was she letting him get in her head? It seemed to be his special talent.

“Thank you so much for the gifts,” Brooke said, smiling at her friends and family. “I’m so glad you could all come tonight. Thank you so much, Zoey, for putting this amazing party together.”

The women clapped and Zoey gave a dramatic bow. Yes, this would be a bridal shower for the memoirs.

“How about we go enjoy the park?” Zoey asked, and the women cheered. “Okay, but first, I have a surprise for you. Something glittery.”

“A tiara isn’t glittery enough?” Brooke teased.

“
Psh.
Hardly.” Zoey reached into a box hidden in one corner of the room and slowly withdrew a long strip of white silk. She held out the sash, dramatically showing everyone the word “bride”
written in glittery pink.

Brooke laughed, taking her
sash. Zoey passed out personalized sashes
to the others, then slipped on her own
maid of honor
sash.

“I know the sashes seem a little obvious,” Zoey said. “But I couldn’t resist. It’ll be dark soon, and between our princess makeovers and Dapper Day, I don’t think anyone will recognize you.”

“Perfect,” Brooke said. She gave Zoey a tight hug. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this evening. I’m having such a great time.”

“You deserve awesome, so that’s what I intend to give you.” Zoey cleared her throat and raised her voice so everyone could hear. “Bride picks the first ride. Where are we going, Brooke?”

Brooke pursed her lips, and her nose scrunched up in thought. “We’re right by Pirates of the Caribbean. Let’s go there first.”

“Excellent choice. Leave anything you don’t want to carry here, and it’ll be taken back to the limo.” Zoey made a rolling motion with her hands. “Let’s go fight some pirates!”

They exited Club 33, a group of loud and slightly tipsy women. Zoey wasn’t tipsy, though—she’d barely had half a glass of wine. She wouldn’t let alcohol affect her vigilance against paparazzi—and the possible weirdo she had a date with tomorrow. She followed close to Brooke, eyes roving the crowd for any hint of Alan. Surely Zoey had been mistaken. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned at the charity event that he was coming?

They exited the side path through the shops and entered the more open walkway that meandered in front of Pirates of the Caribbean. Zoey skipped over the guests wearing Mickey ears and carrying flashing wands. Alan didn’t seem the type, but then again, she didn’t really know anything about him. She carefully studied each guest leaning against the metal railing surrounding the lake. She quickly discounted the parents parking strollers.

Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a sigh of relief. Alan wasn’t here.

She froze, her eyes landing on a wholly unexpected figure. Average height, lanky frame, smooth chocolate-brown skin, and close-cropped curly hair. He leaned against the railing, his back to the lake and eyes scanning the crowd. He was close enough to chuck a shoe at.

Okay, she definitely needed an eye exam. That was twice tonight she’d seen someone she shouldn’t have. She squinted—like that would help.

Not Alan.

Mitch.

She clenched her jaw, anger swelling in her. “That meddling idiot.”

Brooke crinkled her nose. “Huh?”

The scent of churros wafted over from a nearby cart. Zoey tried to focus on that and not the white-hot rage that made her want to leap across the ten feet between them and wrap her hands around Mitch’s throat. “Nothing.”

Brooke gave her a
yeah right
eyebrow raise and craned her neck. “It’s got to be a guy—that’s usually what pisses you off. Wait.” Brooke pointed. “Is that Mitch?”

“Yeah, that’s him. I never pegged him as a bridal shower crasher.”

The daggers from Zoey’s stare had finally made their way across the concrete walkway to where Mitch leaned against the iron railing. He glanced up, his jaw muscles flexing when he saw them. He quickly looked away, then ran a hand over his hair, as though unsure what to do.

Brooke laughed, waving. Mitch slowly lifted a hand in return.

“He’s not crashing the bridal shower,” Brooke said. “He’s looking for excuses to spend time with you.”

Zoey let out a snort.

“He likes you, Zo.”

“Sure, if by
like
you mean
can’t spend two minutes together without arguing
.” Heck, they were usually lucky to make it that long.

“Sometimes the strongest couples are the ones with a rocky start.”

Zoey rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Matchmaking has fried your brain.”

Mitch pushed away from the railing and strode across the walkway, looking right at home for a change in his suit and tie. Apparently staying away was more awkward than coming over. Zoey’s pulse raced, and her cheeks burned with heat. She looked down at her dress and wished she’d worn something different.

She folded her arms, reminding herself of everything about Mitch that drove her crazy. How anal he was about alphabetizing his credit cards. The way he planned out when, where, and what he would eat for the next day each evening. His obsession with meditation and yoga and other new age crap.

Her eyes lingered on the way his light blue button-down shirt contrasted with his skin, how his suit jacket fit his shoulders perfectly. She’d always thought of Mitch as lanky, but he’d felt strong and confident when wrapping his arms around her all those months ago.

There was no justice in the world. It wasn’t fair that someone like Mitch could be such an amazing kisser.

She forced herself to glare. When he was within earshot, she spoke. “What are you doing here?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m looking for my sister. We had an argument, and I need to talk to her.”

Zoey couldn’t help it—she let out a very unladylike snort. “Right.”

“You don’t have to believe me, but it’s the truth.” He gave Brooke a nod. “Sorry for interrupting your party like this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Brooke linked one arm through Mitch’s and the other through Zoey’s, dragging them toward the line opening. “You should go on the ride with us. You can text Jasmine to meet you. If you keep wandering around, you’ll never find each other.”

“I think she’s ignoring my texts and calls.”

“Then you can give her some time to cool down,” Brooke said.

“I’m sure Mitch has other things to do . . .” Zoey began. But the women swarmed behind them, quickly followed by more patrons entering the ride, effectively blocking off an easy escape route.

Brooke released their arms and gave Zoey a wink, then turned to her mother. The rest of the guests crowded around Zoey and Mitch, talking and laughing. Zoey slid to the side, allowing the others to pass until it was her and Mitch at the back of the bridal party.

Mitch eyed Zoey up and down, lingering on her glittery hair and sash
.
Did he recognize the dress?

Zoey folded her arms and glared. “You expect me to believe your sister’s here?”

“You can believe whatever you want.”

The nonchalant words irked Zoey the way non-parallel objects irked Mitch. “She just happened to be here on the same evening I’m throwing a bridal shower for Brooke. A bridal shower that you kept trying to take control of.”

“I didn’t—” Mitch clenched his jaw and let out a guttural sigh. “If I hadn’t made those arrangements, you would’ve showed up tonight with nothing planned.”

“I offered to make the phone calls, but you said it’d be easier for you to do it, since you had access to Luke’s credit card.”

“And then you failed to tell me when an extra guest was added to the tally. Yeah, you would’ve done
great
at scheduling everything.”

“You know, everything doesn’t have to be planned in advance, Mitch. If we hadn’t gotten into Club 33, we would’ve enjoyed Mickey shaped pretzels and Dole Whips. If I hadn’t booked the boutique, we would’ve gone to my house for makeovers—I do have some experience in that arena.” Like ten to twenty hours a week worth. “But I would’ve made the arrangements, and everything would’ve been just fine.”

“Not everyone can live in the chaos that is Zoeyland.”

“You’re too uptight. You just can’t roll with the punches.”

He leaned forward, the confines of the line pressing him close. “And you never plan anything out. You fly by the seat of your pants and expect others to pick up the slack for your poor planning.”

“Funny. I remember a time when you admired my adventurous spirit.”

They slowly but steadily moved forward in line, winding up the ramp and toward the interior of the building where the ride was housed. All around them people joked and talked, but all Zoey could think about was how much she wanted to hit Mitch.

That or kiss him.

She stepped inside the building, and Mitch followed close behind. Giggling passengers in boats wound toward the loading and unloading area. The air inside the building was cool and smelled of chlorine and humidity. A few feet away, on the other side of the water, an animatronic parrot squawked.

“Be straight—are you here to check up on me?” Zoey pointed to the laughing party guests, who seemed oblivious to the conversation going on between Mitch and Zoey. “In case you can’t tell, I have everything under control. They’re having a fantastic time.”

“I’m not here to check up on you.” But his voice was a little too high to be natural, his words too rushed.

“I’m not an idiot.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Zoey still remembered the way the close-cut curls had felt under her hands, coarse but somehow soft at the same time. How had they gone from flirty friends to this?

“I really did have a fight with my sister. She’s here with friends, and we left on pretty bad terms. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep unless I apologized, and she wouldn’t pick up her phone.”

“Let me guess—you tried to control her life, and she didn’t like it.”

Mitch’s eyes clouded, and Zoey felt a momentary pang of guilt. “She dropped out of UCLA,” he said finally. “I can’t let her throw her future away.”

Some of Zoey’s anger evaporated. She didn’t know a lot of details about Mitch’s past, but she did know that money had always been tight. “I’m sorry.” She actually meant the words this time. “I know how important education is to you.”

“She didn’t even talk to me about her decision. I went over to her apartment a few hours ago, after I found out, and it didn’t go well. But fashion isn’t a viable career option—it’s a hobby.”

Zoey thought of her own plans. Was she really going to quit Toujour and pursue a career doing makeup professionally? Sure, she kept busy in the evenings and on weekends doing makeup for weddings—she certainly had the connections after a few years at Toujour—and her YouTube channel was starting to actually generate revenue. But she had no doubt Mitch would find it as ridiculous as fashion. “If it isn’t a viable career choice, then who designed the suit you’re wearing?”

Mitch sighed and gave her a look that said
you’re being ridiculous.
“You know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

The ride attendant directed them to a boat. They moved forward, each taking a place on a numbered tile. Zoey took a spot behind Brooke.

“Oh, I think this row will be too crowded,” Brooke said. “You and Mitch go on the one behind us.”