by Josie Kerr
“Well, Nolan is responsible for most of this. You know I would probably still be living out of boxes.”
The arrival of the rest of the DS Fight Club team and their families delayed any further conversation, and soon the little Craftsman house was full of laughter and chattering conversation. Bridget leaned back against the wall and surveyed the group, ruminating about how different her life was from just a few months prior. Back in Boston, she didn’t really have a place on a fighter’s roster because she was too big for the traditional women’s weight classes. Now, with the creation of a new featherweight division, she didn’t have to starve herself, and that was definitely a relief.
Nolan lifted his chin to her from across the room where he stood chatting with Tobias and Colin’s older brother, Mick.
Nolan.
The man was . . . a perfect partner for her. They shared everything—highs and lows, triumphs and defeats. Thankfully, there hadn’t been too many low points. Both Bridget and Nolan had had enough of those, personally and professionally. Even Bridget’s mother was coming around to her shacking up with the burly Southerner, though he’d definitely looked spooked after Caitlyn Doherty pulled him aside for one of her “friendly discussions” when Nolan met her mother for the first time at an out-of-town fight. Nolan wouldn’t tell Bridget what they had discussed, only that they’d come to an understanding, and all Bridget knew was that her mother had been all smiles and support since. It was fantastic but completely unnerving.
“What do you suppose those three are cooking up?” Bailey slipped up next to Bridget and nodded her head at the group of men.
“With those three, who knows? I know Toby’s planning on doing to some session recording with Mick, and I think the big man has some sort of scheme to get steel guitar onto a Skankin’ Janey Mac track, regardless of whether Toby or the guys want it.”
Bailey laughed. “There’ll be steel guitar on that record. Mickey’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, and that includes his baby brother.”
“Speaking of brothers, where’s yours?” Bridget frowned. DS Fight Club’s newest member had gotten off to a rocky start, merely due to serendipity and circumstance. What were the chances of Bailey’s long-lost brother showing up as a matchmaker?
“He’s dropping off Lucy at her mother’s. He said he’d pop by afterwards.”
Bridget whistled through her teeth. “Oh man, he’s going to be in a great mood.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. He’s very easy going until he’s not, and unfortunately, Lucy’s mom pushes every single one of his buttons. Oh, speak of the devil . . .”
Bailey’s brother, Buddy, the man who was now responsible for setting up matches for the fighters of DS Fight Club, followed his daughter through the door of Bridget and Nolan’s home.
“Uh-oh,” Bridget whispered.
“Well, shoot. That’s not a good sign.” Bailey cleared her throat. “Hey, you two. Lucy, Maude’s helping Nolan decorate the table, do you–”
Lucy squealed and took off for the kitchen.
“Well, that answers that,” Bailey said with a chuckle before turning back to her brother, who looked to be spoiling for a fight. “Do I dare ask?”
“That . . . woman . . .,” Buddy sputtered before sucking in a breath. “Bailey, we need to have a serious talk. Not now, because this is supposed to be a party and what I need to tell you will kill any happy vibes you’ve got.”
“Not to be melodramatic or anything.” Bridget’s grin turned to a grimace when Buddy shot her a poisonous look.
“Fuckin’ A, I wish I was being melodramatic.” Buddy balled up his hands and growled. “Goddammit. Fuckin’ bitch.”
Bailey whistled low. “Buddy, you don’t need to bad mouth–”
“Fuck you, little sister, you have no idea–whoa!” Buddy stopped short when Colin’s big paw grabbed his shirt and pulled him close.
“Come again?” All conversation instantly ceased as Colin and Buddy stood nose to nose in Bridget’s living room. “You wanna repeat what came out of your goddamn mouth, Thomas?”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Bailey. That . . . was uncalled for. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re goddamn right it won’t. If it does, or hell, if you speak to anyone in my gym like that, you’re gone, and I will make sure you never match up another fighter again in any venue.” Colin let Buddy go with a jerk and a grunt. “So get a grip, Thomas.”
Buddy glared at Colin and then turned to Bailey. “We need to talk, tonight. I’m gonna go out to the backyard to cool off for a few minutes.” Buddy cracked his neck. “See y’all in a few minutes.”
Bailey rubbed her temples. “He always did have a temper,” she mumbled and then threw her hands up and shrugged. “Let’s just let everyone cool off, and it’ll be fine. Just fine.”
“Here, darlin’. This will make things better.” Nolan held up a plate with a single perfect piece of cake.
“Is that . . . ?”
“It is. You were talking about it last week, and well, I thought it’d be perfect, so . . .” Nolan grinned at Bailey and handed her a fork and the plate.
Bridget’s mouth watered as she watched Bailey cut into the cake. She’d already designated this weekend as “cheat-end,” so a iny piece of piña colada cake wasn’t going to make a difference.
“Nolan—oh!” Nolan wiggled his eyebrows, and Bridget laughed as he held up another piece of cake – her piece of cake – airplaned a fork full of the delicious dessert into her mouth.
“How did you know?” she mumbled through a mouthful of cake.
“I’m psychic. Plus, another little birdie named Caitlyn might have sat me down with the family recipe books.”
“Oh God. Leave it to Ma.”
“Oh, no, she left it to me.” Nolan pulled Bridget close. “She trusts me to take care of you. And she trusts you to take care of me. Oh God, Bridget.”
Bridget swallowed hard at the soft look in Nolan’s eyes. No one had ever looked at her like he did, and it both scared her to death and thrilled her to pieces.
“Fuck it.” Nolan took a deep breath and lowered his big body down onto one knee.
“Nolan Harper, are you going to make me remember this piece of piña colada cake for the rest of my life?” Bridget’s voice shook as much as the plate did.
“Bridget, I know it’s soon, but in a way, I knew as soon as I laid eyes on you that you were going to change my life. And you did. You gave me the courage to be me and to live the life I was meant to. And hopefully, you’ll be willing to share that life. But I promise you one thing: you’ll never, ever have to share a piece of cake unless you want to. Bridget Therese Doherty, will you marry me?”
Bridget stared at Nolan for a few long moments, and then she turned to Bailey. “Hold my plate, doll.”
Bailey barked a surprised laugh when Bridget practically threw the plate at her so she could launch herself into Nolan’s arms, toppling him over. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on each cheek, his mouth, his chin, and then his mouth again.
“Is that a yes?” Nolan quirked an eyebrow at her, but Bridget just nodded her head. Nolan sighed and pressed his lips to hers.
“I love you, Bridget Doherty,” he whispered against her lips.
“And I love you, Nolan Harper. I’ll be honored to share your life with you. And, babe, I will always share my cake.”
The End
Bridget & Nolan’s Playlist
Sweet Caroline — Neil Diamond
D-I-V-O-R-C-E — Tammy Wynette
Slow Hands — Niall Horan
Think a Little Less — Michael Ray
A Guy With a Girl — Blake Shelton
Somebody Else Will — Justin Moore
Kiss Me, I’m Shitfaced — Dropkick Murphys
Small Town Boy — Dustin Lynch
If He Ain’t Gonna Love You — Jake Owen
T-Shirt — Thomas Rhett
Angel Eyes — The Jeff Healey Band
&
nbsp; Little Wing — Stevie Ray Vaughan
Invincible — Pat Benatar
Pressure Drop — The Clash
You can find this and other playlists on Josie’s Spotify station.
Turn the page to get a preview of Matchmaker, the final book in the DS Fight Club series.
Preview from Matchmaker
Chapter 1
“Wait just a minute, Daddy.”
“Sure thing, Lucy.”
Buddy Thomas stood beside his daughter as she mentally prepared herself to go into the crowded entryway of the elementary school. He watched Lucy adjust her crossbody bag to where it sat just so, and then straighten her shoulders. She inhaled, nodded her head once, and then took his hand and they headed toward the cluster of students and parents gathered around just on the other side of the propped open steel doors.
The first grade rosters were tacked toward the front of the hall, right after those of the pre-kindergarten and kindergarten. Buddy lifted Lucy up to his hip and they perused the lists of names. Lucy spied her name before her father did and let out a little squeal.
“Daddy, Maude’s in my class!” She clapped her hands in delight and grinned at her father.
“That’s great, Sweet Pea.” His baby girl, an extremely shy and anxious child, had been fretting for weeks about the uncertainty of her new school. Buddy sent up a mental prayer of thanks that her cousin and best friend ended up in the same classroom. “You ready to head down and meet your teacher?” She nodded enthusiastically and when Buddy set her on her feet she practically pulled him along behind her.
Lucy came to a screeching halt once she reached the classroom threshold.
“Lucy? You good?”
Lucy looked up at Buddy, her mouth in a tight line. “I think so. Come on, Daddy.”
No sooner than she stepped into the classroom, Buddy heard a high-pitched squeal and a curly-haired little girl pounced on Lucy, who immediately hugged the pouncer.
“Come meet Miss Mayhew, Lucy – come on.” The curly-haired girl tugged on Lucy’s hand. “Oh, hi, Uncle Buddy. Bye, Uncle Buddy.”
“Hi and bye, Maude.” Buddy chuckled and sauntered behind the two little girls. Maude clasped Lucy’s hand and talked a mile a minute as she led the other girl toward three adults, one of whom Buddy assumed was the teacher, as the two others were his sister, Bailey, and her husband, Colin. Colin had the younger of his two daughters balanced on his on his forearm on her belly. He eyed several careening children warily before giving Buddy a nod.
“Hey.” Colin Carmichael was a man of few words. Buddy’s sister and their older daughter made up for his taciturnity.
“Buddy – there you are.” Bailey stretched up on her toes and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Have you met Mrs. Mayhew yet?”
The teacher had Lucy’s hand in hers, and was listening raptly to the little girl.
“This is my daddy. His name is Baylor, but no one calls him that,” Lucy said by way of introduction. “Daddy, this is Miz Mayhew.”
Buddy grinned at his sister’s rolling eyes at her niece’s correction. He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Mayhew.”
“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. . . .”
“Thomas. Buddy Thomas.” Buddy appreciated the fact that this teacher didn’t assume they had the same last name. It showed that she was conscientious of non-traditional situations. Buddy would be sharing Lucy’s own non-traditional situation as soon as possible. Forewarned was forearmed, especially when it came to Natalie Rabineaux.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Thomas,” the teacher greeted him warmly. Her voice was rich and soothing, the kind of voice that was made for reading books aloud. Buddy immediately liked the woman. “I have to say, I would assume that Maude and Lucy were sisters, not cousins. You’re obviously the ones who are related.” Ms. Mayhew looked from Buddy to Bailey and back. Buddy snorted. He and his sister looked very similar, but Bailey got her father’s strawberry-blonde hair, where Buddy’s was more of a sandy blond. Buddy and Bailey, as well as their daughters, all had Leigh Thomas’s grey eyes, though Buddy secretly hoped that was the extent of what his child inherited from her paternal grandmother.
A bell sounded over the intercom, and the principal announced the availability of refreshments in in the cafetorium.
“Cafetorium? What the hell, er, heck is that?” Buddy wondered aloud.
“It’s the lunch room. There’s a stage at one end. Cafeteria plus auditorium.” Ms. Mayhew leaned in conspiratorially, as if to whisper something to him, but then seemed to think better of it.
Buddy wrinkled up his nose. “It sounds like vomitorium, which, no. Ugh.”
Lucy’s teacher clapped her hands in delight. “Yes, exactly. Oh, my goodness. I thought I was the only one.”
Ms. Mayhew’s cheeks pinked up and her eyes sparkled, and Buddy found himself glancing at her left hand.
No ring.
The two of them locked eyes, and Buddy had the insane urge to ask Lucy’s pretty teacher what she was doing after the open house.
“Daddy! Come on!” Lucy pulled at Buddy’s hand, breaking the spell. “It’s refreshment time!”
Buddy grinned, and took his daughter’s hand. “Lucy . . .”
The little girl halted. “Are you coming for refreshments, Ms. Mayhew?”
“I don’t think so, Lucy. I have to make everything’s ready for your class.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll see you soon, then, Ms. Mayhew. Come on, Daddy!” Still with a firm grip on his hand, Lucy set off.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Mayhew,” Buddy called, as Lucy pulled her behind him.
Very nice to meet you.
Chapter 2
Molly Mayhew waved at Lucy and her handsome father, and then encouraged the rest of the stragglers out the door toward the cafeteria (She steadfastly refused to call it a cafetorium. Buddy Thomas was spot-on in his assessment. Yuck.) When the last family unit crossed the threshold of her classroom, Molly shut the door and collapsed into a small molded plastic chair next to a kidney-shaped table.
She loved teaching. She loved interacting with the children. Plastering a smile on her face and making small talk with parents? No so much. There was a reason she’d stayed in the lower elementary grades for most of her career.
Molly picked up the school newsletter and examined her photo which was prominently displayed under the banner proclaiming “Welcome New Additions!” All these new teachers looked so young. Hell, they were young – most of them fresh out of college She was the only veteran teacher who was a new hire. Thankfully no one had asked her why she’d left her previous school, because she hadn’t figured out a pat answer that didn’t leave the door open to a more embarrassing line of questioning. She figured that stories would start filtering through the school system grapevine any day now, if they hadn’t already. Once that happened, she could offer excuses and posit alternate justification until she was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t matter; therefore, she was just going to stay mum until she couldn’t avoid speaking up.
She shook her head and sighed, and then decided that she didn’t need to stay any longer because she had all the next day to finish setting up her room. So Molly began to gather up her belongings to head home for the night. She was standing by the door, taking one last look at the classroom, when a spot of sparkly magenta caught her eye. Frowning, she crossed the room and picked up a smallish crossbody purse that was made from the happiest purple glitter fabric she’d ever seen. To add to its sparkle, a sequined letter “L” was emblazoned on the side. Molly had an immediate suspicion as to who the purse’s owner was: Lucy Thomas. While Lucy had on practical denim shorts and a heather gray t-shirt, said t-shirt had a very sparkly magenta star embroidered on the front, and her shoes were tied with glitter shoelaces.
“Well, Miss Lucy. It’s not every day that a student gets something put in the lost and found before even starts.” Molly chuckled, and then exclaimed with delighted surprise upon discovering that the sequined material c
hanged colors from purple to an aqua blue as she ran her fingers over the material.
“How cool is this?” she murmured. “Six-year-old me would kill for something like this. Hell, forty-year-old me would kill for a pencil skirt in this material. Talk about releasing my inner mermaid.”
She heard a soft chuckle and whirled around to see Buddy Thomas standing in the doorway. The man’s amused expression told her he’d heard every bit of her fawning over the shimmery accessory.
“I see you found Lucy’s bag, not that it’s hard to miss.”
Molly felt her face heat, but she just shrugged and handed the purse to Lucy’s father. “Here you go, Mr. Thomas—”
“Please, call me Buddy. Mr. Thomas is someone I’d rather not think about.”
Molly paused at his remark, filing it away for examination at a later time before remarking, “I’m glad it got back to her before the first day of school. She seems like a child who likes her routine.”
The two of them stood in silence, Buddy shifting his weight nervously. He shook his head and sighed. “Aw, hell. I need to talk to you any way. Do you have a moment?”
Molly blinked. Should she be talking with this man, alone, when the school was obviously almost empty? Buddy’s earnest expression convinced her to hear him out. “Anything for a student, Mr., I mean, Buddy.” She inwardly cringed. Her “anything for a student” mantra is partially what got her into such a pickle at the last school. Well, shoot.
He smiled again, but it wasn’t the large, confident smile from earlier; conversely, this smile was tight and a little bit uncomfortable.
“Lucy’s mother is . . . not a consistent presence in our lives. She was supposed to be in town tonight but she didn’t end up being available.” He cleared his throat and gave Molly another weak grin. “Lucy is a child who thrives on consistency and her mother’s lack thereof is . . . an issue.”
Molly nodded. In almost twenty years in the classroom, she’d seen the entire range of parental involvement, everything from deliberate neglect to the worst sort of helicopter parenting. At least Lucy’s father seemed to be diplomatic about his relationship with Lucy’s mother. She waited for him to continue.
