Matched. Kelli Ireland

each one hitting him with surprising, almost crippling force. Admittedly, his own imagination was likely far crueler than the simple truth. Without making a conscious decision, Isaac suddenly found himself filling in the possible blanks out loud, though in a low voice.

      “I assume, based on your reaction, that your friend decried me as evil. Or am I perhaps corrupt? Has she found my name on some government watch list? Did she tell you I’m cold? Callous?” All truths—things he’d been called or labels that had been attributed to him at one time or another—that he didn’t want her to have heard. Surprised at his outburst, the shock of it caught him just below the diaphragm and made him suck in a short, sharp breath. Forcing himself to slow down, to regain control of himself and his runaway mouth, he offered a more lighthearted response. “I can confirm for you I’m neither evil nor corrupt, but the watch-list thing? Odds are pretty good she’s right.”

      “Cold and callous?” she asked, her voice oddly soft.

      “Depends on where you sit on any given issue, but yes. I’ve been called both. I even earned it once. Maybe twice. Okay, fine. Three times. But that’s all I’m copping to.”

      “Fair enough.” She sighed and made a show of tucking her phone back into her clutch. “In the interest of full disclosure, you should know I’ve been called psychotic, a ball-busting bitch, heinous, criminally motivated, a ladder-climbing whore and a few other things that make me a potentially unsavory individual to be seen with.”