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A Package Deal (Matched Online Book 2)

By Robin Patchen

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A thousand packages, a thousand destinations, a thousand places Josephine Domani would never see. She smiled at the woman across the counter. “It should be there by Wednesday. Will that work?”
The customer, a frazzled mother fighting to keep her twins from climbing the card rack by the window, nodded. “Wednesday’s fine. Cody, stop that!”
The little boy shot his mother a who, me? look while the other boy darted across the lobby of the UPS store and hid behind an oversize box.
Jo stifled a laugh while she rang up the transaction.
The woman managed to grab her receipt, corral the boys, and shuffle them out the door, nodding her thanks to the man who held it open for them.
Oh, it was that man, the one with the dark hair, the trimmed beard, and the sky-blue eyes. Every week or so, he came in carrying the oddest assortment of boxes addressed to the oddest collection of places. He crossed the lobby and set a large box on her scale.
“Hey there,” she said. “What’s inside today?”
“Same as always. A mold.”
She typed the information into the system, then read the address he’d scrawled on the top of the box. It was going to Shanghai.
Another place she’d never see.
She ensured he’d filled out his customs form correctly, then entered the information into her system. “Is Friday all right?”
“Perfect.”
She nodded toward the sticker as she adhered it to the box. “Have you been there?”
He smiled. “Had to go to get the measurements for the mold.”
“What was it like?”
“Crowded.” He shrugged. “Loud. Busy.”
“I bet you stood out.”
His eyebrows lifted over those beautiful eyes, and heat crept into her cheeks. “Because you’re so tall. And those blue eyes...” Holy babbling brook, shut up! “Maybe that’s a stereotype, though. What do I know? I’ve barely left Oklahoma.” Her face burned all the way to her hairline.
“No, you’re right.” His smile was somehow both kind and amused. “I did stick out. The owner of the plant was a big fan of Hollywood. Kept calling me James Bond.”
She giggled, then forced her mouth shut. So professional. Sheesh. And anyway, this guy was way more handsome than the latest 007. She pushed the thought away, finished the transaction, then handed him his credit card and receipt. “Have a nice evening.”
He lingered until a customer behind him cleared her throat, then he said, “You, too,” and turned to go.
Jo watched until he reached the door, where she noticed her mother, Lila Domani, standing right inside. Mom smiled at the man, then eyed Jo with that telltale sparkle in her eyes.
Jo kept the groan to herself and helped the next customer.
When the store had emptied and Andrew, Jo’s only employee, had flipped the sign to Closed and headed to the back to sort packages, Mom stepped to the counter. “Busy day?”
“Busy few minutes anyway.”
Mom turned toward the door, then turned back, fanning herself despite the November chill seeping in through the old windows. “That man. Ooh-eee, what a looker.” Her Louisiana accent was especially pronounced when she got excited. Her words were dripping with it right now. “And he seemed quite taken with you.”
“He’s just a customer.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
As if anybody could have missed the guy. He looked like the blue-collar equivalent of GQ. “Do you need something?”
“I do.” She hoisted her giant yellow purse onto the counter, slipped out her laptop, and opened it. “I was looking over that dating site, the one you supposedly joined.”
“I joined. I said I would, didn’t I? And anyway, what are you doing on a dating site?”
Mom unwound her red wool scarf and brushed her silver hair behind her ears. “Maybe I was thinking of joining too.”
“Were you? Oh, Mom, you should. It’s been five years since Daddy died.”
“As I’m well aware.” Mom navigated to a website. She shifted the screen for Jo to see. “As far as I can tell, this is you. It says Josephine Domani.”
Jo crossed her arms. “What’s wrong with my profile?”
“Where’s your photograph?”
Jo lifted her hair as if to push it away from her face—a nervous habit that should’ve fallen away when her hair had. The short strands slipped through her fingers, and she dropped her arm to her side. “I decided to skip—”
“You promised your friends you’d join a dating site.”
“I did.” She pointed to the screen.
“Without a picture you’ll never get a single date. No picture, and all the men will think you have a big wart on your nose.”
Whatever. Who wanted to date a man that shallow, anyway?
“Having a photograph increases your shot of finding a date by eighty-three percent.”
“You made that up.”
“And your chances of getting married by ninety-seven percent.”
“Did you pull those numbers out of your hat?”
“I’m not wearing a hat, darlin’.”
Online dating. The idea had sounded fun back in August when she and her friends had agreed to it. And Angela’s escapades earlier that fall had been hilarious, though she’d never tell her friend that. But Angela’d dealt with a lot of rejection, and Jo couldn’t handle that. She was barely holding it together as it was.
She circled the counter. “We’re closing. I’ll take you to dinner, if you promise not to talk about this anymore.”
“I’m not sure I can promise that.”
Jo stepped behind the computer and tried to pretend the conversation didn’t matter. “Suit yourself.”
Mother slipped the laptop back into the bag, then hefted it over her shoulder. “I have a number of lovely photographs we can use.” She tapped the side of her bag. “I brought ’em with me. I thought—”
“G’night, Mom.” Jo escaped to her office and shut the door. She hated to be rude, and she’d love to eat dinner with her mother, but not if it meant enduring another lecture about getting on with her life.
What did Mom think Jo was doing here, anyway? She’d bought a franchise. She owned her own business. Now, she just had to figure out how to make money. She’d been in business less than a year. It took time to turn a profit. Christmas season was creeping up, and more locals would stop in, if for no other reason than to avoid the lines at the post office. But she’d need to attract more local businesses. Otherwise, she’d have to dip into the dwindling trust fund her father’d left for her to pay the bills this year. There was only so much left.
So the future looked not grand, perhaps, but not bleak. Not like her past.
Her mother kept telling her she had to put the past behind her.
She ran her fingers over her short hair. Every time she saw her reflection in the mirror, the past stared her down like an outlaw in a bad western, daring her to draw.
She tried that once, hadn’t she? Tried living her dreams, and life had smacked her down hard for the effort. She was a small-town girl, and any dreams to the contrary had burned away with each drip of the IV, leaving her with nothing but aching emptiness and new dreams that would never be realized. A man to share her adventures with, children to raise and love. Funny how she hadn’t considered that last dream until its possibility was snatched from her grasp.
After she finished closing for the night, she turned to the giant map she’d hung on the office wall. She searched the image of China while she thought about the man who’d visited there, the way his icy blue eyes had danced in amusement. A man like that… She ran her fingers through her short hair and remembered why there’d never be a man like that in her life.
She grabbed a thumbtack and stuck it in the word Shanghai. One more dream she’d never realize.

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