Strike a Match (No Match for Love Book 1)

by Lindzee Armstrong

  This isn’t about Beau, she reminded herself. This is about me.

  As Kate worked on entering the last patient notes into the computer, the overhead lights flickered off, leaving only the emergency lights on. The clinic was officially closed.

  Liza flopped into the chair next to Kate. “You’re going, right?”

  Kate’s heart might pound out of her chest, but she nodded. “Yeah. I’m going.”

  “Good.” Liza flipped the top on a can of soda and took a chug. “Make sure they set you up with a nice man. Someone who will be sensitive to your unique circumstances.”

  If anyone was insensitive, it was Kate. What kind of wife was glad her husband was gone? Maybe she didn’t know how to have a healthy relationship. Maybe she was incapable of being attracted to someone who wasn’t all wrong for her. But she owed it to herself to at least try.

  “I’m sure they know what they’re doing,” Kate said. She saved her last note and shut down the computer. “I’m off.”

  Liza eyed Kate’s red and white scrubs with the black Mickey Mouse ears. “You aren’t changing?”

  Kate tugged at her top. “There isn’t time, and I’m just meeting with the matchmaker. Is it weird that I’m not dressing up for this?” She ran a hand through her auburn hair, pulled back in its customary ponytail. She’d dyed it back to her natural color the week after Beau died. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “You look great,” Liza said quickly. She grasped Kate’s hand and squeezed. “And I’ll take you shopping before your first date.”

  Kate nodded. She’d lived in scrubs for so long, she wasn’t even sure what else was in her closet. The only nice dress she owned was the black one she’d worn to Beau’s funeral. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Good luck.” Liza gave a little wave.

  Kate swallowed back the nerves and climbed into the used car she’d bought mere days after Beau’s passing. Without the weekly cases of beer and cartons of cigarettes, making the payments hadn’t been too difficult. She pulled into a nearly empty parking lot, her heart beating in her throat until she wanted to throw up.

  A bell tinkled when she opened the front door, making her jump. The lobby was small, with half a dozen empty chairs lined up underneath the picture window. A strong spicy-sweet scent nearly overpowered her nose. Instrumental music played quietly through speakers, and a sleek black reception desk sat empty at the front. A board filled with wedding announcements for happy, smiling couples lined one wall—a pretty good advertisement, Kate had to concede. She quickly picked her coworkers invitation out of the collage.

  Kate walked toward the desk, hands clasped together to hide the trembling. At least no one sat in the lobby to scoff at her scrubs. She must be the last appointment of the day.

  She shifted from foot to foot, then checked her watch. The room was uncomfortably quiet except for the music. She peered down a short hallway that obviously led to somewhere, but didn’t see anyone. The desk didn’t have a bell to ring.

  It was a sign. She should run right out that door and never come back. Kate took a tentative step away from the desk, glancing at the door, then stopped.

  No. She’d already paid the first month’s subscription, and leaving would mean letting Beau win. It would mean admitting he’d broken her.

  A woman walked into the room, several manila files stacked precariously in her arms. She let out a gasp, her eyes widening as she stared at Kate. The scrubs had definitely been a mistake. Next time, she’d dig in the bottom of her closet for a pair of jeans and T-shirt at the very least.

  “Hi,” Kate said.

  The woman lurched forward. The unexpected movement upset the delicate balance, and files tumbled to the floor, their contents spilling everywhere.

  “Crap,” the woman said, struggling to crouch down in her restrictive pencil skirt.

  Kate dropped to the floor and started gathering up the files. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  The woman was young, perhaps still in college, with sparkling green eyes and a friendly expression. “No, it’s my fault. Things have been a little slow lately, so you surprised me, that’s all. I was going to add older paper charts to the computer system.” She clamped her lips shut, as though she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

  Kate picked up the last folder and rose, handing it to the woman. She was dying to ask why business was slow—and what that meant for Kate’s dating pool at Toujour—but it didn’t seem polite. “I have an appointment with Brooke.”

  “Right. I did see that when I went over the schedule this morning. I’m Lianna.” She dropped the file folders onto the desk and bent over, clicking on the computer screen. “I’m usually really organized, I promise. Yes, I see we’ve got you down. I should’ve checked the calendar, but I was only gone a moment.”

  “I didn’t mind waiting.”

  “I’m sure Brooke is expecting you. She’s the best matchmaker at our firm. Let me show you to a Parlour, and I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  Kate followed Lianna down the short hallway, which opened up into a room with cubicles in the center, doorways on each side, and a glass conference room at the back. Posters of happy couples with inspirational quotes hung on the walls in between doors.

  Lianna stopped at the first door and held it open. “I’ll send Brooke right over,” she said, white teeth gleaming as she smiled.

  “Thank you.” The room—or Parlour, as Lianna had called it—was small, but cozy. Two black armchairs framed a coffee table, and a vinyl-lettered quote splayed across one wall. Kate clutched at her purse strap, her palms slick with moisture. She’d been in love a few times in her life, and each had ended more disastrously than the last. Her grandmother always said Kate had a nurturing spirit. All that seemed to translate into was falling into codependent relationships that left her soul bruised and battered.

  That’s why I’m here, she reminded herself. The professional matchmaker might just succeed where Kate had failed.

  The door swung open, and Kate quickly stood. The woman before her was barely older than the receptionist, probably only in her mid-twenties. She was of average height and slender, the fitted skirt and jacket giving her a professional air. She held a laptop in the crook of one arm and extended a hand.

  “Kaitlynn, I’m Brooke. It’s so nice to meet you.”

  “You as well,” Kate said, taking the hand and giving it a quick shake. Brooke sank into a chair, looking vibrant and at home. This was a woman comfortable in her own skin. Kate slowly sat down, tugging at the hem of her Mickey Mouse scrub top.

  Brooke opened up the laptop, her loose brown curls bouncing with the movement. She swept her hair back over one shoulder. “I went over your profile yesterday in preparation for our meeting. Thank you for being so detailed in your answers. It helps me make the best possible matches for you.”

  “Of course.” Kate twisted the strap of her purse, cheeks heating at the compliment. She’d felt like an idiot filling that profile out, answering all sorts of personal questions about herself and what she wanted out of life. But she’d forced herself to be honest. Nothing she’d done in the past had resulted in a successful relationship. If she wanted to find someone to share her life with—and remain happy in the process—she’d have to step outside her comfort zone.

  “I’m so sorry about your husband.”

  Kate’s hand froze on the purse strap. The questionnaire had asked about past relationships, and she’d felt it would be dishonest to leave out a prior marriage. She’d given the barest of details, not mentioning how conflicted she felt over being a widow. Kate realized she was nodding frantically. She tensed her neck muscles, forcing the movement to stop. “Thank you. It’s been a year and a half now, and I’m ready to move on.”

  “I think you’re very brave. It can’t be easy to get back out there after such a traumatic loss, but I’ll do everything in my power to make your journey a positive one. You’re going to find love again. And I’m going to
help you.”

  Love—Kate wasn’t even sure if she knew what that word meant anymore. Had she ever truly loved Beau? She’d thought so once upon a time, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  “I appreciate it,” Kate said. “I’m excited” —make that terrified— “to start this next chapter of my life.”

  “Good, because I’ve already found a few guys I’d like to set you up with. Three, actually. I thought we could talk about each of them, and then decide which one would be the best choice for your first date.”

  Brooke turned the laptop around, showing Kate the screen. Three photos were pulled up. The man on the right had a receding hairline but looked clean-cut and professional in a business suit. The man on the left wore a button-down shirt that was open at the collar, his mouth turned up in a half smile. But the photo in the middle caught her attention more than the other two combined. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt. His skin was California tan, his face covered in just enough scruff to be sexy. Biceps strained the fabric of his shirt, and an easy smile seemed to declare I’m a fun, happy-go-lucky guy. He was definitely attractive—no sign of a beer gut on this guy—and if the photo was any indication, he cared about things like personal hygiene.

  “Ah,” Brooke said, a smile on her lips. “Which one has caught your attention?”

  Kate hesitated, then pointed to the man in the middle.

  “That’s Taylor,” Brooke said. “The two of you listed a lot of the same values on your profiles. You both ranked traits like kindness, self-reliance, and loyalty very highly. I’m actually his matchmaker, too. He’s been with Toujour about two months, and I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. He’s incredibly compassionate, which I think is something you probably need in a partner right now. But he’s also strong and capable—a true gentleman in every sense of the word.”

  Kate’s heart pounded in her chest, and she struggled to control her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Too soon. This was too much, too soon. She hadn’t really expected to leave with a match today.

  But something about those eyes …

  “Kaitlynn?” Brooke asked gently.

  Kate blinked, the name jolting her back to the present. Beau had always called her Kaitlynn. In the beginning she’d loved that he used her full name, but by the end it had grated on her nerves.

  Brooke set the laptop on the coffee table and leaned forward, her arms braced on her knees, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

  “Sorry,” Kate said, her voice croaking on the one word. She cleared her throat. “I’m here because you’re the professional, and I don’t have the best track record when it comes to picking men. I trust your judgment.”

  “Okay.” Brooke’s smile brimmed with compassion. “Want me to tell you about the other two guys as well?”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.” She’d almost forgotten about them.

  Brooke pointed to the man in the suit. “James is a financial planner and very focused and driven. I thought you two might be a good match since you both value loyalty and hard work very highly. Roderick is a bit of a free spirit, but I think the two of you could balance each other out. He’s adventurous, but also patient and very sensitive to others needs.”

  Kate tried to really look at the other two men, but her eyes kept drifting back to Taylor. The cleft in his chin reminded her of someone.

  Brooke laughed. “I can tell which man intrigues you the most. I’ll speak with Taylor today and see if we can arrange a date for sometime in the next week. Conflicting work schedules may present a challenge. Are you free this weekend?”

  This weekend. Kate wasn’t sure why, but she’d assumed this would take more time. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her breathing. She wanted this—needed this. “I’m usually off work at six on Fridays, and I’m available all Saturday.”

  “Great. I’ll see what works for him.” Brooke tapped away on the keyboard. “I thought a nice, non-threatening first date might be bowling. It’ll give you lots of time to talk, but also something to focus on.”

  “Sounds great,” Kate said. Beau had taken her bowling a few years after his accident and taunted her every gutter ball, then pouted when she actually hit the pins.

  “Okay then. I’ll let you know in the next day or two when and where the date will be.”

  Kate nodded and rose. Taylor had one of those faces—she’d probably met someone who looked like him once upon a time. She thought back to the picture and tried to imagine laughing with him in a dimly lit bowling alley as they exchanged life stories. Her stomach churned.

  You want this, she reminded herself. It’ll be good for you.

  For better or worse, she was back on the market.

  Taylor raced up the cracked concrete steps of his childhood home, desperately hoping he wasn’t too late. The afternoon beat at his back, causing sweat to bead along his hairline. Or was it from anxiety? His parents would never let him hear the end of it. Just because there were no cars lining the curb, no music or laughter emanating from the house, didn’t mean he’d missed the party completely. There could be no cars because people had chosen to walk. There was no laughter because everyone was busy eating.

  He tucked the present under the crook of his arm and swallowed hard, bracing himself for the disapproval he knew would soon rain down on him. But late was better than not showing up at all. Amy had needed him, whatever his parents claimed.

  Taylor raised his fist and knocked. Was that the hum of the television? The sound muted, then he heard the creak of an armchair and heavy footfalls against the thick shag carpeting. Crap. He’d definitely missed the party if his dad was watching the game instead of manning the grill. The door swung open and Taylor wilted under his father’s glare like he was seventeen instead of twenty-seven.

  “You’re late,” Dad said.

  “Sorry.” Taylor slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. The click of the latch echoed in the quiet living room. A garbage bag leaned against the wall in the hallway, bulging with paper plates and cups.

  “You missed the party,” Dad said. “Your mom’s near heartbroken that neither of her children were there.”

  “Amy wanted to come, but something came up.”

  Dad pierced him with a stare, then gave a knowing nod. “Uh-huh.”

  It had taken a straight month of begging before Amy agreed to come to the party. Taylor had driven to San Diego yesterday and picked her up since her car had been repossessed yet again. But when he got home from work that afternoon, Amy was gone. He tracked her down at a bar mere moments before a friend showed up to take her wasted self back to San Diego. But he couldn’t tell his parents that. It would kill them to know Amy could’ve come and hadn’t.

  Taylor shifted from foot to foot, wishing he could just go home to his apartment and Ember, his dog. This whole day had royally sucked. “Where’s Mom?”

  Dad let out a grunt, sinking into his armchair. “She went outside to start a load of laundry. It’s not every day your mother turns sixty, you know.”

  Taylor’s hands tightened around the wrapped box he held. “I know.”

  “Her friends worked real hard planning that surprise party for her.”

  “I wish I could’ve been here.”

  “Are you so sure you couldn’t have been?”

  Taylor sighed. “Amy needed my help.”

  “What was it this time?”

  “She wanted to come to the party, but it was too much for her.” Amy had run away only days after Taylor graduated from high school and she didn’t. She’d been arrested on a DUI—her first time as an adult instead of a minor—and their parents had refused to post her bail. But Taylor couldn’t turn his back on his twin so easily.

  The creak of the back door silenced them both. “Don’t mention it to your mother,” Dad said, his voice low. “Amy has hurt her enough.”

  “Forgot we’re out of detergent,” Mom said from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the wall separating the two rooms. “We’d better run to the store, Ha
rold. I need to do one more load tonight.” She appeared in the hallway, looking pretty in a light purple dress with the pearls Dad had bought her for their thirtieth wedding anniversary strung around her neck. She paused, eyes darkening. “Oh.”

  “Happy birthday, Mom.” Taylor lurched forward, holding out the present like a peace offering.

  She took it from him reluctantly, her brow lowering in a scowl. “Party ended a half hour ago.”

  Don’t flip out, Taylor coached himself. Not on her birthday. He caught his dad’s pleading look and gave the barest of nods. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here in time,” Taylor said.

  Mom grunted, sinking into the love seat next to Dad’s recliner. Taylor slowly lowered himself to the couch across from them.

  “So, who needed help this time?” Mom said.

  The frustration welled up in Taylor, but he forced it back. “A friend.”

  “Did some firefighter guilt you into taking his shift?” Mom prodded. “Or were you just extra busy?”

  The shift had been relatively uneventful, with only one small blaze that had easily been contained. Nothing like the blaze Taylor had encountered on his first day at the station. He’d grown bored with his job as a high adventure tour guide and picked firefighting as a second career. Eighteen months later and he still thought about that first blaze all the time. He could still see the horrified look on that woman’s face when he told her she was now a widow. Her pink scrubs had looked almost orange in the fire’s glow, a pinprick of light against the dark of the blacktop road as she fell to her knees and sobbed.

  Taylor cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I would’ve still made it on time, but I ran into a situation that I had to take care of.”

  Mom threw up her hands, the present still sitting untouched on her lap. “It’s always something, Taylor.”