by Jane Graves
Tom opened one eye. “I think he’s perfect,” he said, then closed his eye again. “She’s going to love him.”
“Come on, Tom. I need your opinion.”
“You’re the matchmaker. So make a match.”
“This is Alison we’re talking about. I think I have the right guy for her.”
Tom’s eyes slowly came open again. With a stretch and a yawn, he sat up and opened the file.
“Okay. Let’s see. Hmm. He owns a uniform-manufacturing business? That’s exciting.”
“Not exciting. Just lucrative. He’s pretty well off.”
“Background check?”
“Clean as a whistle.”
“Nonsmoker…never been married…where’s his photo?”
Tom flipped a page over, revealing the photo, and made a face of disgust. “What’s that he’s wearing?”
“A sweater vest.”
“That’s really dorky.”
“It’s not permanently stuck to him. If Alison doesn’t like it, she can dress him herself.”
“Good point. Otherwise I suppose he’s okay looking.”
Tom flipped back to the questionnaire. “Says here he’s from a big family and wants a big family. Alison should like that.”
She would. Justin Moore had two brothers, and both of them were married with kids. Brandon pictured those Christmas mornings Alison wanted so badly, the ones filled with warmth and family. She’d be right in the middle of things, decorating and cooking and playing with the kids.
So why hadn’t he already set him up with her? Justin had first come to him last week. He’d had plenty of time to do it.
Oh, hell. Who was he kidding? He knew why. In the last week, he hadn’t considered anyone for Alison, with the possible exception of himself.
“What was your feel for the guy when you interviewed him?” Tom asked.
“He was smart. Motivated. Successful. Average looking, but Alison doesn’t care about that. A little dry, but that may have just been a first impression. Sharp businessman, but socially awkward. He has a lot going for him, but he needs help getting things kicked off with a woman.”
“So set them up. What have you got to lose?”
Alison. That’s what I have to lose.
But the truth was that she wasn’t his to lose. She never had been, and she never would be. Set them up, and do it now.
He took the file to his office, where he sat down at his desk and dialed Justin’s number.
“Just three quick questions,” he said when Justin came on the line. “Have you ever had anything to do with drugs?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you have an ex you’re dying to get back with?”
“Uh…no. Why would I go to a matchmaker if I wanted to get back with an ex?”
“Are you sexually conflicted in any way?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever had a desire to be anything but a man with the equipment God gave you?”
“Hell, no!”
“Then I have a match for you,” he said, forcing himself to say the words. “And there’s no doubt about it. You’re going to love her.”
* * *
On Tuesday morning, Alison checked for any co-workers who might be loitering near her cubicle. When she saw none, she headed over to Lois’s desk. No matter what had happened between her and Brandon, she’d promised him a yard sign, so she needed to put Lois to work.
“Hey, Lois.”
Lois turned around, and Alison discreetly held up the unmarked bag. Lois whipped back around to stare at her computer, denying, of course, that she’d seen anything at all.
“What’s the job?”
“I need a design for a yard sign.”
“Same branding as the business card?”
“Yep.”
“What do you want on it? “
“Logo. Business name. Phone number. I’ll send you the dimensions. You give me the design, I’ll order the sign.”
“Time frame?”
“ASAP.”
“I’ll have the design for you tomorrow. But it’ll take the sign itself a while to come in.”
“I understand.”
Lois turned her back to Alison and opened her lower desk drawer. Alison dropped the unmarked bag into it and walked away.
Just then she heard her phone ring. She hurried back to her desk and looked at the caller ID.
Brandon.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping deep in her heart that no matter how final he’d made things between them on Saturday night, no matter how much he’d professed that nothing would ever happen between them again, he was calling to tell her how wrong he’d been and that he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.
With a trembling hand, she hit the talk button. “Hello.”
“Hi,” he said. “It’s Brandon. I just called to tell you I have another match for you.”
Alison felt as if the floor beneath her feet had opened up and the ground had swallowed her. Please tell me he didn’t say that.
But he had said it. And it was her fault for thinking it was possible he was going to say anything else. He’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want her, and not because of matchmaker ethics. That was just something she’d made up, and he’d used it so he could let her down easy. She’d been an emotional wreck. What else had she expected him to say?
“I think you’re going to like him,” Brandon said, sounding friendly and upbeat and very professional. And she hated it.
She swallowed hard. “So tell me about him.”
“He’s nice looking. Has a good job. A big family. And he wants to get married.”
“That sounds…wonderful.”
“I’ll e-mail you some more information. Then you can get back to me to tell me if you’d like to go out with him.”
“Have you told him about me?”
“Yes. And he’s really excited about meeting you.” There was a long pause. Then Brandon said the one thing she should have been thrilled to hear, but instead it sounded empty and hollow.
“Alison, I really think this man may be the one you’ve been waiting for.”
* * *
The next Saturday evening, Alison met Justin Moore at a coffeehouse in the high-rent district of West Plano. It had mismatched chairs and tables, oddball art on the walls, and offbeat employees behind the counter. Strange, then, that every patron in the place had laptops flipped open and iPhones beside them, dressed as if they’d stepped out of a boardroom. They were the kind of people who prided themselves on embracing cutting‑edge weirdness, then went home to half-million-dollar houses with Lexuses in every garage.
Justin spotted her first and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around, she couldn’t say it was exactly love at first sight. He was slightly geeky, with glasses perched on his nose and his hair falling down over his forehead, but if she squinted a little, he looked kinda cute. And because he wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, he probably didn’t spend his entire day looking in the mirror and marveling at how irresistible he was. And it also probably meant that he wasn’t expecting a woman who looked like a supermodel. In other words, he was a man who had substance over style. She repeated that to herself a few times and decided she liked the sound of it.
“Cute place,” she said after they got their coffee and sat down at a cozy table for two.
“I come here sometimes on the way to work,” he said. “I thought it would be a nice place to get to know each other.”
As they sipped their coffee and talked, she started a mental list of pros and cons. There was the matter of the way he dressed that went along with the geek thing—polyester slacks, a plain white dress shirt, and wingtip shoes with everything tied down and buttoned up tightly. Con.
He had a nice haircut and smelled good. Pro.
She told the candy pusher joke. He didn’t seem to get it. Con.
He was intelligent. Pro.
Which he demonstrated by telling
her about the intricacies of the machinery his employees used to create a janitor’s uniform. Con.
Unfortunately, the pro-con thing didn’t seem get her anywhere. By the time their date was nearly over, the pros and the cons had pretty much balanced each other out.
Then he started talking about his family, and things took a turn for the better. He had two brothers who lived within a few hours of Dallas, and they were both married with kids.
“I’ve spent the past fifteen years building my business,” Justin told her. “I guess I’ve pretty much ignored anything else. But I’m getting older, and it’s time for me to take that next step. I want what my brothers have.”
I want it, too, she thought. She actually felt a tiny surge of excitement as she imagined the possibilities that might lie ahead. He seemed a little shy, but first dates were hard under any circumstances. She decided he just might be exactly what she’d asked for. A nice, reasonably attractive man who was financially responsible and wanted a family, who had the ability to eventually utter the words “I do.”
Later, he walked her to the parking lot. They reached her car and stood there with classic end-of-first-date awkwardness.
“You like antiques, right?” Justin said.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Brandon told me.”
Brandon. Of course he would know that since she loved his house so much. And he’d seen her furniture. And she’d gushed over the period clothes in his grandmother’s wardrobe. And—
Forget Brandon. It’s Justin you’re interested in.
“I can get tickets to the Dallas Antique Show at Market Hall,” Justin said. “Would you like to go to the opening night preview party?”
Alison just about had an orgasm on the spot. That was a big ol’ charity event where posh antique galleries displayed zillion-dollar pieces and charged through the nose for rich folks to come look at them.
“Those tickets have to be really expensive,” she said.
“They are. Five hundred apiece.”
Well, don’t tell me, she thought, even though she was impressed that he had the money and didn’t mind spending it when it was something he knew she’d be interested in. It beat the hell out of the date she’d once had with a guy who took her to dinner at Golden Corral because he had a coupon for two dollars off the all‑you‑can‑eat buffet, and it was crab legs night.
“Yeah, I’d love to go.”
“Good. I’ll get the tickets.”
They said good night, and Alison got into her car to go home. She played the date over in her mind, and one word kept coming to mind. Nice. It distressed her a little that she couldn’t come up with a better adjective than that. Then again, when some of her first dates could have been described in terms far worse than that, she decided to count her lucky stars.
Later at home, just as she was turning out the light to go to sleep, her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID.
Brandon?
She fingered the button without pushing it, her heart suddenly beating faster and her mouth going dry.
Oh, will you stop freaking out? Just answer the damned call.
She rolled to her back, her head on her pillow, and hit the button. “Brandon. Hi.”
“Hi, Alison. I’m just calling to see how your date with Justin went.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “Good. It was good.”
“I didn’t get a knock on my door, so I figured it must have been okay.”
She wasn’t sure if he was going for an inside joke and she was supposed to laugh. In the end, he didn’t, so she didn’t either.
“I talked to Justin,” Brandon said. “He really liked you, Alison. And he says you’re going on a second date.”
“Yes. He’s taking me to the Dallas Antique Show next week.”
“That’s perfect. You should like that, right?”
You should know. You put him up to it. “Yeah.”
A long silence stretched between them.
“If things don’t work out between you and Justin—”
“I think they will.”
“Good. Maybe he’s the one, huh?”
“Maybe he is.”
Another long silence.
“Well,” Brandon said. “Keep me posted. And let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
“I will.”
That damned silence again.
“Well, good-bye,” he said finally.
“Good-bye.”
Alison clicked her phone off and tossed it to the bed beside her. She stared at the ceiling, telling herself that if she’d never met Brandon, she’d think she hit the jackpot with Justin, so it was time to put thoughts of him behind her. He wasn’t her future, but Justin might be. And from this moment forward, he was the one she was going to be thinking about.
So there it was. Brandon had done it. He’d finally sent Alison on a first date that had been a success. And that meant he was a success for matching them up. He knew that should make him happy.
So why didn’t it?
Get over it. You gave her exactly what she wanted.
He tried to focus on the TV show he’d been watching before he called her, but his mind wandered all over the place. Pretty soon he was thinking about Marco and Delilah, whose first date was tonight, too. With luck, he’d be as successful with them as he’d been with Alison.
Assuming you could call what he’d done with Alison a success.
She hadn’t really sounded like a woman who was enamored with the new man she’d just met. But hadn’t she told Brandon that she didn’t expect fireworks? That if she wanted a family man, she’d have to settle for a little bit of ordinary? Yeah. That was exactly what she’d said.
And he’d told her that was bullshit.
But if really was bullshit, why had he matched her up with Mr. Ordinary?
Because that was what she said she wanted.
Damn it. His mind was going in so many circles it was making his head hurt.
Finally he gave up on the TV show he was watching, grabbed a beer, and went out to the front porch, where he sat down on the swing. He’d turned off the porch light, telling himself that lately it had drawn too many bugs, but the truth was that he wouldn’t mind catching a furtive glimpse at Marco and Delilah when they returned to her house after their date.
He didn’t have to wait long.
He heard the low hum of an engine, and a few seconds later, Marco’s truck pulled up in front of Delilah’s house. He got out and opened her door for her. He took her hand, a little awkwardly, and helped her out. Then she took his arm and he led her toward her front porch.
Marco was being a gentleman. Brandon had expected nothing less. But was there more going on between them than just that? What had their date been like? As they climbed the steps and stopped at Delilah’s door, both of them looked so uncomfortable that he started to think things hadn’t gone well at all.
Then Marco turned around to walk away.
No, no, no! Talk, smile, laugh, do something. I have to know. Don’t leave me wondering!
And then Delilah opened her door and was going inside, and Marco was walking down the porch steps. Damn it. It was over, and Brandon still didn’t know how things had gone between them.
Suddenly he imagined the phone call he was going to get from Marco, the one where he berated him for setting him up on a date that had been excruciating for him. And Delilah. How was she going to feel about the evening? As if one more man was rejecting her?
Then suddenly, halfway down the steps, Marco stopped. Apparently Delilah heard his footsteps stop and wondered why, because she turned back around and tilted her head to listen. Marco looked over his shoulder at her. His indecision hung in the air between them, and it seemed as if an eternity passed before he finally turned around and went back up the steps. He came to a halt in front of Delilah, and she tilted her head up at him expectantly. He leaned in and said something to her. She smiled and looked away. After a moment, he put his f
ingertips beneath her chin and tilted her face up again.
And then he kissed her.
Just a soft, gentle kiss. The barest brush of his lips against hers that lasted only a few seconds. Delilah put her hand against his arm, resting it there as lightly as a butterfly landing. When Marco pulled away, she put her hand against her chest as if to calm her beating heart.
Marco backed away, but before he could leave the porch, Delilah reached out and caught his arm. Brandon watched, holding his breath. Slowly she coaxed Marco back again, sliding her hand down his arm to take hold of his hand. Then she turned around and led him inside, and the man who had to be reminded to smile was smiling ear to ear.
As the door closed behind them, Brandon felt a rush of pure joy. He pumped his fist in the air. Yes, yes, yes!
Marco and Delilah desperately needed somebody, and he’d helped them find each other. He didn’t know if it would lead to anything permanent, but at least for one night, maybe the pieces of their hearts that had been iced over for so long would finally begin to thaw.
God, that felt good.
A three-quarter moon cast a soft glow around the neighborhood, surrounded by a clear, star-filled sky. Brandon drained his beer and set the bottle down on the porch, then started to swing again—back and forth, back and forth—as he listened to the night wind rustling through the trees. And in that moment, the most surprising thought crossed his mind.
Life is good.
Then he thought about Alison, and his heart twisted with regret. He only hoped she and Justin were as happy as Delilah and Marco were right now, no matter how miserable he felt about that himself.
It’s for the best, he thought. For both of us.
The next weekend, Justin took Alison to the antique show. It was spectacular in every way, just as she’d expected it would be. Then they went on a third date to dinner and a play at the Eisemann, and when he took her home from that, he actually got up the nerve to kiss her good night. It wasn’t half bad, really. Way better than Randy, who had a tongue like a piece of raw liver.
But not one tenth as good as Brandon.
Over the next few weeks, they occasionally spent time at Justin’s house, a soulless McMansion in West Plano that was very pretty to look at but no different from the twenty other houses on the block. At her condo, the cast of I Love Lucy was having a hard time warming up to him, mainly because he had never had cats and was mildly afraid of them. She gave him points for trying, but when Lucy took up residence on the sofa behind his head one evening and started batting at his hair, it was all he could do not to run screaming.
