Ava had dealt with difficult clients before—clients who thought their zodiac sign was more important than their personality, clients who refused to date anyone who didn't own a yacht, and even one client who demanded a partner "fluent in sarcasm." But Jenna and Max Calder? They were on a completely different level.
"Nothing could have prepared me for these two," Ava groaned, pacing her office as Kelly sat on the edge of her desk, eating pretzels out of a crinkling bag. "It's like trying to referee a cage match. Except the fighters are smarter, pettier, and have no problem pulling me into the ring."
"You signed up for this," Kelly replied, crunching loudly and thoroughly unhelpfully. "Matchmaking's messy. You match people with love; I match people with snacks. Both are noble professions."
Ava shot her a glare. "You're not helping."