Matchmaker Mayhem

If Ava had known how the evening would end, she would’ve shown up to the cooking class wearing full body armor. Instead, she was in a crisp white blouse—her professional problem-solver uniform—and standing between a scowling vegan and a hunter cradling a cooler of raw venison like it was a beloved pet.

"Let’s all take a deep breath," Ava said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "We’re here to make connections, not—uh—conflict, okay?"

The vegan, Tara, crossed her arms. "I can’t believe you thought he was my match. Do you know what he has in that cooler? It’s murder."

"It’s dinner," the hunter, Chad, shot back. "I don’t see you complaining about the cucumbers you murdered for your salad."

Tara gasped. "Cucumbers don’t have faces, Chad!"

Chad rolled his eyes. "Neither does this venison. It’s already dead."

Ava clapped her hands, stepping between them. "Okay! Let’s all focus on the cooking class, shall we? Maybe food can bring us together. Isn’t that exciting?" She sounded desperate, even to herself.

Both of them glared at her, and for the first time that day, Ava wondered if Mei’s advice to send them to a cooking class had been a bad idea.

The instructor, Chef Paolo, was a tall, lanky man with a thick Italian accent and the energy of someone who had definitely not signed up for this kind of chaos. He clapped his hands and addressed the group of mismatched couples.

"Welcome! Tonight, we will create love through food. Cooking is about passion, about connection, about—"

"About not murdering animals!" Tara interrupted, shooting a glare at Chad.