Burned in Broken Hearts Junction: A Cozy Matchmaker Mystery (Cozy Matchmaker Mystery Series) by Meg Muldoon Page B

smirked.
    “Now I think you’re the one with the wrong impression of me, Bitters,” he said.
    I shrugged.
    “Sounds mysterious, is all,” I said. “Which in my experience, usually means illegal.” 
    “It’s not,” he said.
    “I’m not sure if I believe you. This whiskey isn’t cheap. It’s something a drug dealer might drink.”
    “Well, pardon me saying so, but I think a gal like you should only be drinking the best.”
    I nearly snorted.  
    “And now I know you’re a schmoozer,” I said. “My mother always said to watch out for those types.”
    “That’s a good piece of advice right there,” the stranger said.
    I smiled.
    “What kind of name is Bitters anyway?” he asked.
    I shrugged.
    “One that stuck a long time ago when I started bartending.”
    “Hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin. “You know, I don’t think the name fits.”
    “Maybe you just don’t know me well enough,” I said.
    He shrugged.
    “Maybe,” he said. “But I got a sense about these things.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yeah. And when I look at you, I just don’t see a Bitters .”
    “Well, what do you see?”
    “I don’t know yet,” he said. “But I’ll tell you when I do.”
    Another silence settled in over the conversation. We both stared at the crackling fire. I took another sip of the whiskey.
    Damn, this was some mighty fine stuff.
    “So where’s home, Fletcher?” I asked.
    “All over,” he said, without missing a beat. “Mostly Tennessee, but I’ve never really put stakes down anywhere. You get used to a certain way of living, you know?”
    There weren’t too many jobs that you could do that with, I thought.
    Dealing drugs might have been one of them.
    “But if you want to know the truth, I don’t care much for talking about myself. I’d rather hear about you,” he said. “What do you do for fun in a town like this?”
    I lifted my eyebrows up in surprise, and then looked back at the fire.
    Fun. I didn’t know the meaning of the word lately.
    “Not much to do in a town this size,” I said. “The Cupid was the best thing about Broken Hearts Junction. When I was a kid, I used to go there all the time just to listen to the music. That place used to be magic.”
    I felt a sour expression settling in over my face.
    “Now it’s just a rundown joint in the middle of nowhere.”
    “Well, what else do you do for fun?”
    I thought about my matchmaking for a second.
    That used to be what I did for fun. Nothing made me happier than the thrill of making a match, of bringing two people together who otherwise might have missed each other without me intervening.
    But things had changed. When I thought about Beth Lynn and helping her find her mystery soulmate, I felt dread, not excitement.
    The truth was, I didn’t really like making people happy anymore.  
    I didn’t have much fun these days.
    I shrugged.
    “Maybe I’m just a serious person,” I said, staring into my nearly empty drink.
    He got up, grabbed the bottle and poured me another.
    “I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he said.
    He sat back down in the chair and stared at me a few moments.
    “You were saying something the other night,” he said. “When I dropped you off. Something about some sort of super power you have.”
    My cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t because of the spirits.  
    “I really shouldn’t drink so much,” I said. “I was saying a lot of nonsense the other night.”  
    “You were saying that you can see a person’s soulmate,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “Wasn’t that it?”
    I looked away. Me and my big mouth.
    “And as I recall, you looked at me like I was insane,” I said.
    “I don’t think you’re insane,” he said. “You were a little tipsy, maybe. A little crazy. But not insane.”
    I didn’t see any reason to keep on lying.
    Any harm I’d done to myself I’d already done. And Fletcher Hart was either going to think I was a nutcase, or he was going to have an open mind about