Mr. Match: The Boxed Set

by Delancey Stewart

"We did win."

  "Good on ya, lad. Excited to start your new adventure then? San Diego's a long way out." No one in my family had ever been to San Diego. Few of them had actually left the rocky crag we called home.

  I sighed. "It's a distance, yeah."

  "Told her yet?"

  I turned to look at him as he drove. Charlie had a way of picking up on my thoughts that I wasn't overly fond of. I pretended to have no idea what he meant. "Who?"

  "Have you told Sophie you love her? It's as plain as day this last year or two. You owe her that much before you go. For what it's worth, I think she loves you back."

  My heart launched itself to the top of my chest, smashed into my skeleton and then fell, thrumming back into place. "I've been a coward."

  "It's not like you don't know the girl," Charlie pointed out. "You've grown up together. She's practically your sister, though most of us try not to think about that now."

  "Most of us?"

  "Hamish, we all see what's happening here. We've known since high school you loved her, but the two of you are the slowest-moving human beings in the highlands, apparently." He blew out a breath, mirroring the frustration I'd felt since I realized how much I cared for Sophie, how much time we'd probably wasted if she cared for me too. "Have you even kissed her?"

  I dropped my eyes to my lap.

  I'd wanted to. God, I'd wanted to so many times. "I worry about it," I said, and Charlie gazed at me for a long second, encouraging me with his eyes before turning back to the road. "If something went wrong—if I was too forward, assumed some things between us. If I did something she didn't want and it made her decide she should keep her distance...well, she doesn't have anyone except us. And I don't want to ruin that for her. Especially because I'm leaving. What if I ruin everything, and then I go to America and Sophie does't feel like she can come around the family because I've been a horny dolt and embarrassed her?"

  "That's what you've been worried about?"

  "That and the obvious."

  "Which is?"

  "I go to kiss her and she doesn't kiss me back."

  "You're shit at reading people, you know? She's in love with you, Hamish. I'd bet every sheep in the royal flock on it."

  His words wrapped themselves around my fears and soothed me. Could he be right? Somewhere deep inside I knew he was. And I determined to act on it. To finally tell the girl how I feel. "All right then."

  "You going to get some balls now?"

  I glared at him. "Balls are not my problem."

  He lifted a shoulder. "Could've fooled me."

  We arrived home an hour later, and Mam announced she'd invited everyone home to celebrate the end of my university career and send me off properly to America. Everyone, naturally, included Sophie.

  The second I laid eyes on her, all wild red curls and bright blue eyes, nerves zinged around inside me until I practically couldn't speak.

  "Hey Soph," I managed, crossing the room to welcome her as she stepped into the house.

  "Hey," she said, smiling up at me, her eyes liquid and warm.

  It was a full two and a half weeks before I could push down my fecking nerves enough to have the conversation I needed to have with the girl I loved. And it was the night before I was to leave.

  "Why do you look so worried?" She asked me as we walked outside after dinner, our feet finding long-worn paths through the fields at the back of my family's land. Our time together had changed over the years, from the reckless wild play of our youth—which always included at least one or two of my siblings—to this quieter thoughtful conversation. I could feel that something deeper had grown between us, something conscious and alive. But I was still afraid to acknowledge it. The wind blew soft that night, and the air was as warm as it gets in Durnland, washing our skin and giving me courage.

  "It's hard to leave," I told her.

  She nodded, her head dipping and the line of her neck illuminated by the watery moonlight. Her hair was up, soft tendrils escaping around her face, down her neck. I wanted to twine my fingers into those ringlets, but I kept my hands speared firmly in my pockets. "It would be hard to go," she agreed. "Your family will miss you so much. And I'll miss you," she added, her voice almost a whisper.

  Hearing her say those words nearly broke me, I was so on edge. I turned to face her. It was time. "Soph, I hate leaving you."

  "It's hard to leave everyone, I'm sure," she said, offering me an escape from my true meaning.

  "Yes," I agreed, pulling my hands from my pockets so I could take hers. I wrapped her cool fingers in my own, marveling at how right her hands felt in mine. "But it's harder to leave you."

  Her brows lowered, as if she was considering this information, not making sense of it. "Oh."

  "I don't want to push you," I told her. "And if the feelings aren't reciprocated, that's okay." I forced myself to hold her gaze. "But dammit, Sophie, I believe I've loved you for most of my life, and there's nothing I want more in the world than to kiss you."

  She sucked in a soft breath, and for a minute, neither of us moved, and I swear, the wind stilled at our backs. And then a bare whisper came, making my heart soar again. "I feel the same."

  It was all I needed. I pulled her into my arms, and I lowered my head to kiss her.

  Two hours later the moon had moved across the sky and it was late and dark and cold, but Sophie was wrapped in my arms and my heart, and for a moment anything seemed possible.

  "Come with me, lass."

  She looked up into my face with a sad smile. "You know I can't."

  "Why not?" I had an idea why, but stubbornness made me want to defeat whatever reasons she had.

  "I can't afford the trip right now, Hamish. And where would I live? With you?"

  "You've been working down in that bakery for years now. I'll pay whatever extra you need."

  She shook her head. "Wouldn't be right, and my stepfather—"

  "I don't care what he thinks, the soggy wank."

  Her giggle was light and made my heart lift again. "I've saved a fair amount," she said. "Maybe I can visit soon."

  I sighed. "I'll miss you," I said, uselessly.

  "You'll be home again soon?"

  "I don't know when," I said honestly. I'd been told to expect tournament play during holidays, and the off season had games too. As a rookie, I wouldn't be able to miss long stretches of practice, and a trip to Durnland was no overnight affair.

  She stared up into my eyes for a long minute then, and I couldn't fathom what was going on inside her head. I kissed her again, not wanting to hear how difficult things were about to become or to think about how much time I'd wasted.

  The air had turned cold, and soon enough we were on our feet again, holding hands as I walked Sophie home. "See me off tomorrow?" I asked.

  She nodded and kissed me one more time.

  And that was the last time I'd seen Sophie James.

  Chapter 87

  Girls. With Torsos and Heads.

  Hamish

  She was here. In San Diego. Working in a damned bakery like it was nothing. Greeting me like we saw one another every damned day and like the fact we were both here, seven thousand miles from home, was insignificant.

  And almighty heaven, she was more beautiful than I could have imagined. Sophie had grown up since I'd seen her.

  Don't get me wrong—I'd loved the lass as a child, when we were both innocent wee ones, pudgy limbs carrying us through green fields and over sturdy boulders. And I'd loved her differently as a teen, and after I returned from college, when we both began to realize what might be possible between us, when we'd explored our feelings and hopes with a kiss—the kiss that had changed everything. But I found I loved her differently now, as a fully realized woman, with her face thinned out just a bit and her eyes carrying the wisdom of the years during which we'd been apart. She was a hair taller now, and her limbs seemed leaner, more defined—while her perfect round hips appeared slightly rounder and her breasts, well... I couldn't let mys
elf think much about that and still carry on a conversation.

  I examined her like a scientist, as surreptitiously as I could, but there was a part of me that felt it was my right to see how she'd changed, to evaluate what I'd missed. Because while we had been apart, and I knew now that was a mistake, there was no mistaking one thing. Sophie James was mine.

  I just needed to remind her.

  She walked just a foot ahead of me on the sidewalk, making it impossible to talk to her, and I wasn't enough of a dolt to pretend I didn't see the anger in her posture.

  She pulled open the door to Starbucks and placed an order before I'd even gotten to the counter, pulling a few bills from her pocket.

  "I'll take care of this, Soph," I said softly, leaning down. "I interrupted your day. It's the least I can do." I smiled at the boy behind the register, who took my order and my money, and when our drinks were ready, we sat at a little table by the window, and for the first time in much too long, I felt my heart settle.

  "Sophie," I said, because her name was a pleasure, and seeing her here in front of me was like a dream. "I've missed ya. I'm so happy to see you." This wasn't about my sister's call, it wasn't about being a prince or hanging on to my legacy. It had nothing to do with my family's ultimatum that I take a bride. This was about us. Me and my Sophie.

  She raised an eyebrow at me, and the anger simmering inside her was alight in her eyes, the ruddy spots in her cheeks. It might have been years, but I knew my Soph, and I was definitely in for it. She said nothing, just sipped her drink and watched me as if she expected me to surprise her with a song and dance, or get up and suddenly run.

  "I spoke with my sister Marigold. A couple days ago. And she told me you'd come here. Years ago now." Each short statement was like a question, and I paused, hoping she'd start talking, but when she didn't, I went on. "I wish I'd known you were here. I started looking for you—Mari said she hadn't heard a word since you first arrived. I couldn't find ya, Soph. I searched your name everywhere I could think—death records even. And worse, marriage records." I pressed a hand to the tabletop, looked at the green tabletop between my fingers, trying to find the words that would make Sophie speak to me. "Soph...You've been here all this time and you didn't come find me. I don't understand."

  She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Protecting herself, I thought. Sophie was hurt. What had I done? "You don't understand," she said.

  She was right about that. "Were you angry I left? After that night? You knew I was going to go. I had to, and I did call, Soph, but you were never there and you didn't call me back. And I emailed you..." But as soon as I'd left Durnland, it was as if Sophie had dropped off the face of the earth.

  "I needed some time right after you left," she said. "Because I knew I was too young to feel the way I did, and I thought time and space would make it go away."

  That hurt a bit. Had she stopped talking to me because the feelings here were one sided? Had she banished hers? "Did it work?"

  She blew a frustrated breath out and rolled her eyes, leaning forward and slapping the table. "No, it didn't work. I ended up following you here, didn't I?"

  I didn't say anything, didn't ask the million questions on the tip of my tongue. She was talking. I wasn't going to interrupt.

  "I followed you here. Three months after you left, I'd saved up enough money, had the fight with my stepfather and followed. I wanted to surprise you. My plane landed, I checked into the room I'd rented, and I went straight to the bar where everyone said the Sharks went out after games. You'd played while I was on the plane, your team had won, and I knew you'd be out celebrating. And indeed you were."

  I shook my head. "What?"

  "You were there. In the bar downtown. Wearing your kilt with a girl on each knee and a grin on your face bigger than I saw the day you managed to roll that sheep down the hill."

  That had been a good day. Not for the sheep, probably. But for me. It was part of the Durnish games, and sheep rolling took a lot of strength and skill. It had taken me years to master. "Girls?" I said, like an ape.

  "Yes, girls. Two beautiful thin blond things with..." she made a motion in front of her chest and another around her head.

  "Torsos. And heads?" I suggested helpfully.

  "Bosoms and hair!" she practically yelled.

  "And I stood there, fresh off a twenty-three hour trip, looking like a sad little rag washed in off the sidewalk—short and dumpy and pathetic. And I understood everything right then and there, like the sun coming up and shining a beam on it all. And then one of them kissed you, and I knew for sure."

  "What?" I asked, shock echoing through me. "You knew what for sure?"

  "That you had come here to find something better. To find someone better. You were moving on, and you didn't feel the same about me as I did about you." She sniffed, and I realized she was close to tears, her back straight like a Durnish Pine and her lip tightening to stop the quiver. "And I've done just the same, Hamish. I've moved on." She nodded her head once, firmly, as if closing the topic.

  "Sophie James," I said, my voice a worshipful whisper. How could she ever think I'd forget her? How could she believe there was anyone better than her?

  "That's another thing," she said, lifting her chin. "It's Sophie MacMartin. I gave up that alcoholic son of a goat's name as soon as I could. Took back my ma's."

  I nodded, understanding washing through me. No wonder I couldn't find a lick of evidence of her here. She'd come here as Sophie MacMartin, but the girl I'd known was Sophie James. I didn't blame her. Her father had died when she was a tiny thing, and her ma had remarried poorly. The man had lost himself in the bottom of a bottle after Sophie's ma died when she was ten. In some ways I had to thank the man. He was the reason Sophie spent all her time at my house growing up. But if I ever saw him now, I wondered if I might not do something else altogether to him for leaving a little girl who'd lost her mam to grow up on her own. Something that might involve twisting off his balls and... well, you get the idea.

  "I don't blame you," I said.

  For a few minutes we just sat there, and while I did my best to learn every new thing about the woman in front of me, to catalog the changes and remember them to consider later, I had the distinct impression she was doing the same.

  "I know what you saw that night, Sophie," I said after a while. When she began to shake her head, I rushed to correct her assumption. "But there's never been anyone else. Not for me."

  "I saw you kiss that girl, and it was the kind of kiss that I'm certain led to something else later on." Her expression was furious, her eyes squinting and her nose wrinkled up. It was adorable.

  I reached across the table and took the hand that was resting on the table's edge. She pulled back at first, but then I felt her fingers relax inside my own. "Listen, please," I said. "Girls follow the team, that's true. And when I first arrived, it was overwhelming—that a lad from a tiny country no one had ever heard of was suddenly some kind of celebrity in a place like San Diego. Well...it went to my head, I suppose."

  "Both heads, I'm sure," she muttered, almost inaudibly.

  "But Sophie, nothing's ever happened. I've never stopped thinking about you."

  She rolled her eyes and snatched her hand back, standing up before I could finish.

  "Don't go," I pleaded.

  "I have a full day, Hamish. I'm glad to see you're well. I think it'd be best if you don't come back to the shop." She turned and left the coffee shop at a quick clip.

  I followed her down the sidewalk back to Cake Me Up, wondering what to do. I stepped inside the shop after her, feeling very much like a trespasser. I was just about to approach the counter she'd slipped behind and try to convince her to give me another chance, to let me explain, when the two college-aged girls who'd been peering down at the the little cakes in the cabinet glanced back. Their gazes lingered too long. They recognized me.

  Oh no. Oh shit. Oh for the love of everything holy, not now.

 
"Aren't you...?" One of them said, gripping the other one's arm and pulling her nearer. "Oh my God. It is." She turned to her friend. "This is the Hammer! From the Sharks! Oh my God!" Her voice had risen several octaves and now she and her friend were both talking fast, in high-pitched voices, and one of them had dropped a hand on my arm.

  I caught Sophie's eye over their shoulders to see her shaking her head, and as the girls asked about selfies and whether I was dating anyone or if I knew Max Winchell, Sophie slipped back through the kitchen door, taking my heart with her.

  Chapter 88

  Destined for Cats

  Sophie

  I thought six years had made a difference. I thought I had gotten past my childhood obsession with Hamish MacEvoy.

  But sitting across from him this morning and telling him to leave me alone was the hardest thing I've ever done. My heart did not agree one whit with the words coming out of my mouth, and every one of them was a struggle. Every second of sitting there was loaded with the potential for my body to revolt and throw itself headlong into his arms. The thing was, I'd been ready to do it once before, and the universe had taught me that while Hamish might have been my first love, he wasn't my anything now. I'd moved halfway across the world to have my heart broken painfully, and while I might have gotten a beautiful new life in the process, it still hurt to think about.

  The girls who were in the shop when we returned did me a huge favor. Because if he'd approached the counter, if he'd said any more words, I might have crumbled. But seeing those pretty young girls fawn over him reminded me of what he had become and of the ways in which he had moved far beyond the Durnish highlands and the ruddy-cheeked naive girl he'd kissed one time by mistake.

  "Why do you look like you're going to cry? Or dissolve altogether?" Anna eyed me with concern.

  "There are customers," I told her, ignoring her question.