He stared at the orange shag carpet, focusing on the black fur wedged between the fibers from the family cat. He could tell her the truth and she’d stop giving him flak for being late. But it wasn’t worth seeing the pain fill her eyes until it spilled over. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Mom sighed, picking up the box in her lap and carefully sliding a finger under the tape holding the wrapping paper in place. “You’re here. That’s the important thing. Now, what have you brought me?” She tore the paper away, her mouth falling open at the contents. “Taylor,” she gasped.
“I found it on the internet,” Taylor said. “Bought it from some guy in Canada.”
Mom’s eyes glistened with tears and she carefully pulled the porcelain figurine out of the box. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Taylor nodded, giving his mom a tight hug. She’d been searching antique shops for months in an effort to find the figurine and complete her collection. Hopefully it would make up for both her children missing the party.
“That’s real thoughtful,” Dad said, his voice gruff. “Now you’ll be sure to make it to the barbecue on Memorial Day, right? That’s less than two months away.”
“I’ll be here,” Taylor assured his father. And with any luck, Amy would be, too—sober and clean.
“Will you be coming alone?” Mom asked.
Taylor rolled his eyes. He knew she wasn’t talking about Amy. “Yes, it’ll just be me.”
The silence stretched between them, but Taylor didn’t want to get into it. He definitely wouldn’t tell his parents he’d spent the past two months being set up by a professional matchmaker. He’d only signed up with Toujour because Corey, his best friend at the station, had suggested they join together. Taylor figured it couldn’t hurt to have an expert’s opinion—he always picked women with more baggage than a Boeing 747. So far, he hadn’t found anyone through Toujour that he wanted to date more than twice.
An hour later, Taylor escaped his parents. They offered him leftovers, but he declined—this craptastic day called for takeout from his favorite Italian restaurant. He walked in the door of his condo and dropped his duffel bag, letting out a groan of relief. He could collapse into bed right now and sleep for an entire day. But the smell of Vinny’s sample platter convinced him to stay awake just a little longer.
The click of nails sounded across the laminate flooring, and Ember trotted into the room, her tongue wagging in excitement. Taylor set his takeout on the counter and dropped to his knee, chuckling as she licked his face. He rubbed the border collie behind her ears. “I missed you, too, girl,” he said. She was the one person in his life who didn’t judge him.
Ember let out a happy bark.
“I promise we’ll do something fun over the next forty-eight hours, okay? It’s supposed to be beautiful tomorrow. How does the park sound?”
Ember jumped up, letting out another bark.
“I agree,” Taylor said. He’d planned on spending the day driving Amy back to San Diego. At least that was one good thing about her finding her own ride home.
Taylor ate his takeout while watching Ember play in the small fenced-in yard. His phone rang, and his stomach dropped. Surely Amy wasn’t calling him from jail again. She couldn’t have been home more than an hour.
But it was Toujour’s number that flashed across the screen. Brooke must’ve found him another date.
“Hey,” Taylor said, already heading back inside to the desktop computer he kept in the spare bedroom.
“Hi, Taylor. Are you busy, or is this a good time to talk?” Brooke asked.
“You caught me at a good time.” Taylor wiggled the mouse to wake up the computer screen.
“Great. I have another match for you. She’s available for a date Friday evening or anytime Saturday, if you’d like to meet her. I just sent an email over with her basic information.”
“I’m opening my inbox now.” Dread welled up inside Taylor. He’d been on five dates in the past two months, but hadn’t clicked with any of the women. Maybe he should tell Corey he was on his own. Taylor wanted a girlfriend, sure. But this was painful.
“Her name is Kaitlynn Monroe. You two have a lot in common—she loves hiking and dogs, and is a really caring and compassion person. Her husband passed away a year and a half ago, but she’s eager and excited to reenter the dating world.”
Taylor clicked on the email. A widow? That sounded like way more baggage than he wanted to deal with, although it also meant she probably had more depth than most of the women he’d dated. His mind flicked back to the woman from his first fire. Had she started dating again?
“I was thinking bowling would be a nice date,” Brooke continued. “It’ll give you plenty of time to chat, and it’s a relaxed and low-stress environment. You could grab dinner or dessert afterward if you feel things are going well, but all I’ve mentioned to her is bowling.”
“I like bowling,” Taylor said noncommittally, scrolling through Kaitlynn’s profile. She was the same age as him, loved Italian food, and enjoyed cooking. Well, at least they had that in common. But the widow thing was more than he could handle. He’d tell Brooke he wasn’t interested and to keep looking. Or maybe he’d just tell her he was done.
His hand froze as he scrolled down, revealing the picture of Kaitlynn. He leaned forward and squinted.
No way.
His mind flew back to pink scrubs and a sobbing woman. She’d been beautiful even then. The Kaitlynn in the photo wore the lightest touch of makeup, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail just like she’d worn that night. Her eyes held the same sadness in their depths. He couldn’t forget her face if he tried. She’d haunted his dreams for eighteen months.
“Taylor, are you still there?” Brooke asked.
“Yes, sorry.”
In the dark, he’d assumed her hair was brown, but it actually held an auburn tint that fit her somehow. Same cheekbones, same oval face, same arched eyebrows. It had to be her. The timeline fit.
“Did you tell Kaitlynn about me?” he asked.
“Yes, I showed her your picture and we talked. She was really drawn to you.”
Surely she’d recognized him. Maybe there was something she wanted to tell him and that’s why she’d asked for the date. Maybe she simply wanted to spend a few hours in the company of someone who had also been present on that horrific night.
“Would Friday or Saturday be better for you?” Brooke continued. “Or are you not interested?”
“No, I’m definitely interested.” That night had haunted him, too. “Let’s say Friday night. Maybe seven-thirty?”
“Excellent,” Brooke said. “I’ll confirm the details with Kaitlynn and get back to you tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”
Taylor said goodbye and hung up the phone, still reeling. He’d thought about Kaitlynn a thousand times since that night. He’d wondered how she was doing, if she really had no friends or family to help her through the grief.
And now he would get to meet her. On a date.
Kate could totally do this.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Her forehead rested lightly on hands that clutched the cool leather of the steering wheel. Air from the vents blew toward her, fanning hair away from her face.
She’d arrived at the bowling alley twenty minutes early, years of punctuality an unbreakable habit even in the face of stress. But she hadn’t been able to force herself out of the car.
It’s just a date, she reminded herself. Nothing has to come from it. But it’s good to get back out there. That’s all she needed from tonight—an easy, uneventful foray back into the dating world.
She focused on her breathing, forcing air in through her nose and out through her mouth in slow, even pulses, just like she coached frighten patients on the verge of hyperventilating.
You can do this, Kate.
“I can do this,” she said aloud. She raised her head and forced herself to look at the building. It was fairly standard—stacked cinder block painted a deep blue. She co
uld just make out the logo on the front door, which advertised laser tag, miniature golf, and bowling. A bright neon sign hung on one of the windowless walls. Just a bowling alley, like the half a dozen other bowling alleys she’d been to her in lifetime.
Slowly, Kate removed her keys from the ignition. The car would quickly fill with heat now that the A/C was off, even if it was only early April—a good incentive to get out of the car and walk inside. If she didn’t go now, she’d be late, and that was an impression she didn’t want to make. Taylor might be the type who was easily annoyed by tardiness. Her first date in eight years would be awkward enough without the silent treatment added in.
She flipped down the sun visor and glanced at her reflection in the small mirror. The makeup Liza had convinced her to buy looked nice—subtle, but still there. Liza had urged Kate to go with darker eyeshadows and a red lipstick, but Kate had uncharacteristically stood her ground and gone with more nude shades. She hadn’t worn makeup since the first year of her marriage, and she would never make it through the date if she felt that self-conscious in her own skin. Best to ease back into things slowly, so hopefully the changes would stick.
Kate opened the door and placed one foot on the pavement. She’d balked at the price of the shoes—nearly fifty dollars—but Liza had assured her the colorful wedge sandals, which made her calves look amazing and made Kate want to stand tall, were a steal. They were way outside Kate’s comfort zone of flip-flops on her days off and comfortable tennis shoes for work, but she figured since she’d played it safe with the makeup, she could afford to take a risk on footwear, even if she’d spend most of the night in ugly bowling shoes.
She took a deep breath, then placed her weight on the sandals and stood, her feet protesting at the unfamiliar heels. She brushed invisible lint away from her new flowy white blouse. Her brand new jeans fit like a glove, the fabric softer against her skin than she’d known denim could be.
Kate gave the car one last fleeting look then locked the door, looping her purse over one shoulder. Hopefully Taylor wouldn’t be able to tell every item of apparel she wore was new. Liza had assured her men never noticed those types of things, but Kate didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard—or not hard enough. She was second-guessing everything.
Beau would’ve hated the jeans, hated the sandals, and hated the blouse. He would’ve criticized everything about her appearance, from the way she’d teased her hair to the silver hooped earrings that had been a high school graduation present from her grandfather.
The cool air of the bowling alley and scent of greasy pizza and nachos blasted Kate in the face. The loud beat of the music vibrated her bones, along with the loud clack of bowling balls hitting pins. Kate shrank back against the door, wishing more than anything she was home in her pajamas.
And then she saw him. His head was turned away from her as he watched a little girl enthusiastically push a bowling ball down a ball roller. Taylor wore a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows and dark blue denim jeans that hugged his hips. His gelled hair was a dark brown, the color similar to that of her morning coffee. Why was there something so familiar about his profile? He was more built than in his photo. She took a step forward, then hesitated.
Maybe it wasn’t Taylor. His face was mostly hidden, and his profile could belong to any number of handsome men—strong jaw, prominent nose, nice cheekbones. He probably only seemed familiar because he looked so similar to Hollywood heroes in romantic comedies. Maybe it was a different man, waiting for a different date. If she went forward and introduced herself, only to find out it wasn’t him, she’d die of embarrassment.
She reached back with her hand, feeling for the straight push bar on the door behind her. He wasn’t here. She should leave. The only thing worse than going on her first date in eight years would be getting stood up on it.
The man turned, and his eyes locked onto hers, eyebrows lifting in recognition. Definitely Taylor. He waved a hand in acknowledgment and took a step forward. There was something about his eyes that stirred memories deep inside her.
She couldn’t walk away now, no matter how much she regretted this date. Kate forced herself across the black carpet with bright neon designs, heart pounding in her chest. She could do hard things. This date was the right choice for her. She imagined herself shoving Beau’s snarling voice into a dark corner of her mind and locking it away. He wouldn’t ruin this for her.
“Hi,” Taylor said, giving her a full smile of sparkling white teeth that had her stomach doing somersaults. He stuck out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Kaitlynn.”
Kate. I go by Kate. But she shook his hand and kept silent. No need to rock the boat in the first five seconds. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“I’ve already got lane seventeen reserved. We just need to grab our shoes.”
“Okay.” Kate fell into step beside Taylor, struggling to relax. She was on a date. Giddiness warred with nausea.
They grabbed shoes from the attendant and Taylor led her to their lane, where Kate pulled a pair of socks out of her purse and they both started slipping on their shoes. Kate was overly conscious of her every movement, aware of the man sitting beside her. Taylor seemed nice so far, and his casual attire made her feel better about her own clothing choices. Maybe this wouldn’t be awful after all.
She was on a date. An actual, honest-to-goodness date.
Taylor’s skin was tanned, veins and sinews popping in his hands as he finished tying his shoe. So different from the pasty-white complexion and slightly doughy appearance Beau had always sported.
“Are you a fan of bowling?” Taylor asked.
Kate jerked her gaze upward, feeling a blush work its way into her cheeks. She’d been staring like a high schooler on her first date. “It’s been a few years since I’ve played,” Kate said, skirting the question. “I’m only an amateur.”
Taylor grinned, making heat flash through her.
“Excellent,” he said. “I was worried I’d be embarrassed when you were this bowling pro and I barely manage a spare every third turn.”
“It seems like we’re evenly matched.” The words registered half a second after they left her mouth, and her face burned. “I didn’t mean …”
Taylor laughed, waving it aside. “I knew what you meant. So, how’ve you been?”
Kate squinted, the feeling of familiarity sweeping over her again. It’d been so long since she’d been on a first date that she couldn’t remember if this was a typical conversation. “Um … Good, I guess.”
“Good.” Taylor nodded, as though genuinely relieved by her answer. “That’s great. I’ve always wondered.”
Her stomach rumbled with nerves while her palms grew clammy. Something was very wrong with this date. “I’m sorry,” Kate said, the words taking all her courage. “Do we know each other?”
Taylor’s eyes widened, making her stomach tremble even more. “You mean you don’t recognize me?”
Something about his eyes pulled at her, but she couldn’t place them. She was usually really good with names and faces, but his alluded her. Her first date in eight years, and it was with someone she knew but couldn’t remember. Panic clawed at her throat as she fought to keep her composure. The new variable that had been introduced to this equation had frayed her already raw nerves.
“You look familiar, but I thought you just had one of those faces,” Kate said. “I’m really sorry …”
“Oh man.” Taylor rubbed a hand over his strong jaw. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this. I assumed you knew and were okay with it. I recognized you from your photo almost immediately.”
Kate should’ve given in to her fear and never stepped foot outside of the car. This was beyond humiliating. Embarrassed tears prick at her eyes and she forced them back. “You’ll have to forgive me. I don’t usually forget people like this.”
Taylor’s smile turned pained. “We met the night of the fire.”
The s
ounds of bowling balls smacking against pins dimmed as his blue shirt and jeans morphed into full fire gear, a hat and jacket obscuring most of his features. Bile rose in her throat and she clasped her hands together tightly to hide the shaking. Out of all the men she could’ve been matched with, Brooke had found the one Kate had never expected to see again.
She should’ve recognized him immediately. A wife shouldn’t forget the face of the man who informed her she was a widow.
Her entire body grew flush with heat as her vision blurred. She swayed, the bowling shoes pinching her feet with the movement and bringing to mind the raw blister she’d had on her foot that night. Taylor quickly wrapped his hands around her forearms, steadying her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She collapsed into the swivel chair around the small bowling table, her legs wet noodles. All she’d wanted was one normal date, but the universe seemed determined to refuse her even that small request. Beau was probably laughing as he watched her suffer. Maybe he’d even orchestrated this whole thing. It would be just like him to make her miserable, even from the grave.
A bottle appeared on the table in front of her, and Kate looked up, blinking slowly.
“Drink,” Taylor said, sliding into the chair across from her.
She hadn’t even realized he’d left. She broke the seal and took a long, slow swallow, her mind whirling. Taylor had known who she was and still agreed to the date. Why?
“Thank you,” Kate ground out as she screwed the lid back on the bottle. This had to be some kind of joke to him—a fulfillment of a morbid curiosity about what she’d gone through the past year and a half. But it wasn’t a joke to her. It was her life.
“I thought you knew,” Taylor said.
Kate let out a hollow laugh. “Not a clue.”
“Oh.” The word was filled with meanings she couldn’t decipher. “So, uh, why did you agree to a date with me?”
The humiliating question made something inside of Kate snap. Taylor wasn’t Beau. She didn’t have to worry about going home to him every night and dealing with the silent treatment, or rage, or whatever else he wanted to deal her.
Strike a Match (No Match for Love Book 1) Page 3
