Little Matchmakers

by Jennifer Greene

“I wouldn’t have made that kind of decision without Pete. He knows we can’t keep the kittens. He’ll likely be extra glad if you can take a couple, so he’ll have a chance to see them now and then.” She brought out bowls, then the ground round, then assembled the rest of the ingredients. “Now…I need you to wash your hands really good. No dirt under the fingernails. No forgotten spots. Because I need you to knead all the ingredients together into the meat. It’s a messy, icky job, but—”

  “Hey. It’s okay. I like messy, icky jobs.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” he assured her.

  By the time they pulled into Tucker’s drive two hours later, Garnet’s upbeat mood had taken a complete nosedive. There was no chance of this barbecue competition working out. None. For once the temperature was below ninety, but a hot, testy wind shrieked off the mountain, beating up branches and hissing around corners. She parked behind several other vehicles—one SUV, one brand-new town car, one dirt-crusted Jeep. She stepped out only to have the wind slap her face like a burn, her reasonably tidy hair whipped into a froth. The plan was for Will to help her carry the coolers from the back, but that intent fell by the wayside when Petie charged out of the house, yelling to Will, “Me and your dad are going to whip you guys’ butts!”

  “Oh, yeah. So you think.” More bodies showed up in the doorway. “Dad! I thought cooking was for girls! Instead it was so fun! Even though I can’t tell you what we did to our burgers because it’s a secret. And we’ve got another secret besides that one. Grandma! Grandpa! Hi!”

  Garnet braced. The stampede out the front door was boisterous and noisy, the sounds distinctive to a loving, connected family who enjoyed being together. Thankfully she already knew Ike and Rosemary. Her gaze homed in on Tucker, but beyond his “About time you got here!” she was too swallowed by the group to get near him.

  His parents were the surprise. She’d hugely worried about meeting them, partly because Tucker’s face and voice always changed when he mentioned his mom and dad. Instead, they weren’t remotely terrorizing. Walker McKinnon looked like an older version of Tucker—he was ultra tall, with the same keen eyes and gentle tenor. He greeted her with an affectionate hug, and insisted she call him Walker.

  Tucker’s mom, June, was just as warm. She wore a MacKinnon Breakaway T-shirt and shorts, and had glossy cinnamon hair and her son’s extraordinary blue eyes. She charged over to introduce herself, and immediately won fifty million brownie points by commenting on how smart and interesting and well-mannered Petie was.

  Garnet kept trying to zigzag over to Tucker, but the rest of the group kept engaging her in conversations. The whole MacKinnon clan had a surfeit of energy, never stopped talking and laughing—and the grandparents doted on the kids, her Pete getting as much attention as their Will. They didn’t ask the same old how-are-you, what-grade-are-you-in, but instead steered conversation toward the kids’ interests. June asked Petie to change the ring on her cell phone, as if she couldn’t do it herself. Walker engaged Will in a hair-raising golf-cart run—where Will was allowed to drive, to his joy and his father’s consternation.

  Ike and Tucker were still in the process of setting up two separate barbecues—the goal being to locate them back-to-back, so the competing chefs were facing each other. Garnet had no idea how they were going to grill anything in this crazy wind, but she joined with the women on setting up picnic tables. Rosemary carted out pitchers of lemonade and iced tea. Garnet hustled to empty her coolers, starting with a massive bowl of fresh fruit and trays of garnishes.

  Finally, the contest was announced—with some fancy fanfare. The boys produced two trays of burgers, one with a red flag, one with a blue one. Tucker and Pete were given royal blue aprons to don, while Garnet and Will opted for red. Everyone else had bright yellow name tags with JUDGE spelled in capital letters. Rosemary came through with red and blue spatulas for the chefs. Grandpa MacKinnon, alias Walker, blew a whistle.

  The judges settled at a long picnic table, cheering and egging on the competitors. The boys held the platter of meat. Tucker and Garnet took up stations behind their respective barbecue units and started plumping down the prepared burgers, creating hissing sounds and whispers of smoke and the enticing aroma of dinner—at least the potential of dinner.

  She didn’t know why she suddenly looked up. Tucker was in the middle of laughing, saying something to Pete. Only out of the blue, he stopped talking…and his eyes met hers.

  He seemed to freeze up, go still. So did she.

  The night they’d made love was suddenly there…as if the space between them suddenly glowed with those memories. The wonder of touch. His touch. The textures of him, the smell of him, the tastes of him.

  There was something about him. She couldn’t hold back from Tucker. Couldn’t hold back anything. She’d been as vulnerable as she’d ever been in her life—he’d taken that vulnerability, he’d demanded it—but he’d also protected it by giving back everything he had, everything he was. He’d been as vulnerable as she’d been.

  And she wanted him again.

  From the dark sheen in his gaze, she knew he wanted her, too. Now. Immediately. Forget everyone else, everything else, forget sense and priorities and work and life and everything else.

  When he looked at her that way… But that was just the point. No one ever looked at her the way Tucker did.

  No one ever made her feel the way Tucker made her feel.

  Sudden shrieks of “Mom!” and “Dad!” yanked her gaze away from Tucker.

  Smoke billowed from her barbecue…and his. She’d never noticed the smell, noticed the smoke, until their sons yelled at the top of their lungs.

  The adults at the judging picnic table were cracking up—not with alarm, but laughter.

  The first batch of burgers—from both teams—went straight to the trash.

  The boys insisted on cooking the next batch, and because neither Tucker nor Garnet thought it was a good idea for their sons to handle the fires alone, the adults took no end of teasing, razzing and grief.

  Eventually enough burgers had been cooked—perfectly, as the boys repeated endlessly—after which, Tucker and Garnet got a new round of joshing from the adults at the picnic table.

  At one point, she looked at Tucker for the first time since that bonfire moment, and said, “Boy, this is really fun. I’m so glad you invited your family.”

  Which made them crack up more. Ike was laughing so hard, he had to hold his stomach. “She fits right in,” he gasped to Tucker.

  “I’m still trying to figure out why we’re getting all this grief, when y’all are getting a free dinner. Not to mention the best burgers on the planet.”

  “They are,” Walker agreed, and with a glance at the two boys added, “Did you two sample each other’s burgers?”

  Both boys nodded.

  “So which do you think is the best?”

  “The ones I made with Mrs. G.,” Will said promptly.

  “The ones I made with Mr. T.,” Pete said at the same time.

  “Uh-oh,” Rosemary murmured under breath.

  “I’m glad it’s on the rest of you instead of us who has to judge this,” Tucker said. “So which team wins?”

  “Go wander away,” Ike told the boys. “We’ll vote and then call when we’ve got the results.”

  “Can we can go as far as the creek?” Will asked his dad.

  “Sure. No sweat. Don’t be gone forever, though. A half hour at most.” Tucker glanced at Garnet to see if she was okay with that timing. She nodded.

  She’d been so wary of coming to this barbecue, so sure Tucker’s family would judge her the way her own family did. Tucker had never suggested they were snobs. She just expected that they’d fret over who she was, what she did, her lack of education—all that kind of rigamarole—if they thought she was involved with Tucker. Fa
mily protected each other. It was just human nature.

  Instead, they were easy to be with. Really easy. Until they were nearly finished with dinner, and the votes on the winning burger team were being discussed.

  “I think it’s cut and dried. Will and Garnet’s burgers were by far the best, with some kind of interesting flavors I’d never…” It was Walker speaking, when his cell phone set off a drum roll.

  His wife’s cell jangled at the same time.

  Both senior MacKinnons immediately rose from the table, with regretful apologies, and quick hugs. But that fast, they were gone, their car zooming out of sight before Garnet could draw a breath or ask a question.

  For a few minutes, the group continued as if the senior MacKinnons’ leaving didn’t matter. The voting discussion on the burger competition finally reached a conclusion. Will and Garnet were announced the winners, with the prize being the same that Petie and Tucker had won in the kayak competition.

  And that was all hunky-dory, Garnet thought—except that the whole mood of the gathering had suddenly and drastically changed. No one was laughing and ribbing and talking over each other. Silence infested the group. Tucker’s face looked wooden. Smiles looked glued in place. All the energy and enthusiasm in the group had popped like a punctured balloon.

  As if emphasizing the bewildering change of mood, a clap of thunder suddenly echoed in the west. The wild wind was pushing in fat clouds. Leaves hurled in the air, bringing the first spatter of raindrops.

  Everybody jumped to their feet. Tucker hustled toward the truck, headed for the creek to pick up the kids. Ike aimed for the barbecues to shut them down, and Garnet joined Rosemary to scoop up food and picnic debris as fast as they could. They’d made the first trip into the house before another crack of thunder shook the trees, and the spatter of fat raindrops turned into a hissing, soaking deluge.

  By the time Tucker’s truck pulled in, they were all soaked, and the sky had turned blacker than midnight. Garnet searched Tucker’s face when he stomped in the door—but his expression looked as wooden as it had before. He pushed off shoes, made the boys push off theirs. The only people talking were the boys, who chattered nonstop about the cool thunder and the minnows in the creek and what a great day it was.

  “Mom,” Pete asked her, “we need to stay a little longer, okay? Because Will and I wanna talk about how to spend his money.”

  “You really think he needs help with that?” Garnet asked wryly.

  “He does. In lots of things, he’s better at stuff than me. But not about money. He’s not a finance kind of guy.”

  Garnet suppressed a chuckle at Pete’s earnest tone, but she excused the kids to head for the den and the TV. The adults clustered in the kitchen, putting things away, making trash disappear. Garnet tried to make conversation, but she could barely take her eyes off Tucker.

  He hustled around them all, filling in, doing his share—he squeezed Rosemary’s shoulder, exchanged a quiet glance with Ike. Garnet already guessed there was some serious family thing going on, but she wasn’t worried about his brother and sister. Tucker looked…locked up, as if he’d turned a key on some emotional door and bolted it.

  Outside, the storm screamed and blew, rain battering the windows like orchestral drums, the lights flickering more than once.

  “I’ve got a generator,” Tucker told them all. “And you all know there are enough bedrooms in the place to sleep an army. But it looks as if it’s going to blow over. Clearing in the west.”

  Rosemary stood in the west window, hands on hips. “Clearing? Where? You’re dreaming.”

  “I’m your older brother, remember? I know everything. You’re just the brat.”

  Rosemary slugged him. Ike said, “I do think it’s letting up.”

  “That’s because you men always side together! Garnet! Get over here. Tell me if you see an ounce of clearing in the west.”

  “I don’t have to look. I’m on Rosemary’s side. Whatever she says is right,” Garnet called from the kitchen.

  “That’s it. You have to marry my brother. Take Ike if you won’t marry Tucker. It’s the only way I’m ever going to get a balance in this family. We need more female votes.”

  Tucker’s eyes shot to hers. Hers shot to his right back. It was the marry word that created a bolt of lightning between them. Right in the living room. As if the storm had abruptly moved inside. As if the household had disappeared except for the two of them.

  Thankfully, they were the only ones that seemed to notice. Ike was praising Rosemary for not “biting” when their parents brought up her broken engagement. Rosemary praised him right back for their parents suggesting Ike could be a better surgeon than either of them were, instead of doing the “kind of doctoring” he’d chosen.

  Tucker disappeared for a few minutes to check out the generator in the lean-to behind the cabin. The downpour was starting to lighten up, but that didn’t mean clear sailing for certain. They could still lose power. Trees could be down anywhere because of the wind. Mountain storms often blew up hot and fast in the summer.

  Within an hour, though, Ike and Rosemary were aiming for the door, determined to drive home. Rosemary popped back in to give both Garnet and her big brother an extra hug.

  As the door closed, Garnet suddenly felt edgy and odd. It was just…they’d said goodbye to the guests as if they were an old married couple, and now they were distinctly alone. Before Tucker could say a word, she announced, “I’m going to track down my Pete, and we’ll be out of your hair lickety-split, too.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Her plan was to escape faster than the speed of light. She had her bag and van keys in hand when she went searching for Pete. She found him.

  And that fast, her escape plan took a nosedive.

  She hadn’t seen the den in Tucker’s house before. The room was dark, with a giant TV dominating one wall. A pair of old couches nested at angles, with a thick rug in between.

  Both boys had undoubtedly planned to stay up all night, but Will was sprawled on the rug with a pillow, buried under a light blanket. And her Petie was sleeping just as hard, burrowed into the couch with only a foot peeking out from under a blanket.

  “Don’t wake him.” Tucker’s voice came from just behind her, an intimate whisper. “They can sleep right here. Why wake Pete for nothing?”

  “But—”

  “I can either bring him over in the morning. Or you can stay here, too.”

  She turned around so swiftly she almost hit her head on the doorjamb. He raised an eyebrow. “Hey. There are a half-dozen spare rooms here. I wasn’t suggesting monkey business. I was saying…there could be trees down after a wild storm like that, problems with cars stalled on the road. Why not wait to drive home until daylight?”

  She looked again at Pete, who was sleeping so soundly. She rubbed her arms, looking back at Tucker again, still indecisive.

  “Now, I know you trust me,” he said, in a voice no woman would trust. “So I’ll tell you what. My room’s at the far right on the second floor.” He motioned to the wide staircase. “Will normally sleeps at the room at the top of the stairs.” Again he motioned. “There are three spare bedrooms over to the left. Two of them have attached bathrooms.” Another motion. “You can pick any one of them. Back when this was a lodge for family gatherings, we set up the rules—fresh linens and blankets in the closet, no point in making up a bed until we know someone’s staying. In the meantime, we’ll leave the downstairs lights on for the kids. I’ll head up first, so you’ll know I’m all tucked in and you’re safe as church.”

  “You’re sounding a little patronizing,” she said irritably.

  “That’s because I think it should be a real easy decision to make on a night like this.”

  “Now you’re being honestly annoying.”

  He threw up his hands,
in the classic male what-can-you-do-with-women gesture. Really, Garnet thought, it was amazing women hadn’t killed men off a long, long time ago…or maybe it was just Tucker who could be this insufferable.

  He went upstairs first, just like he’d said. She turned off their TV, turned off a few lights, put a couple of glasses in his dishwasher. By the time she stood at the bottom of the wide staircase again, there was a light under a closed door upstairs. His bedroom.

  She took two steps up, then hesitated. She didn’t have deodorant or toothpaste, nothing to prepare for an overnight stay. But darn it, Tucker was right. She was exhausted. Petie was settled. It would be downright dumb to take off this late. She’d undoubtedly crash the instant her head found a pillow.

  She tiptoed up, crossed the hall to the farthest room, groped for a light and then…inhaled. It was a corner room with big old windows, a four-poster bed with an old-fashioned quilt and feather pillows. Adorable. An armoire held bedding—old, soft sheets, spare towels and blankets.

  The adjacent bathroom was done in white tile with red towels; a white terry-cloth robe hung from a hook. Basic toiletries filled a wicker bowl—nothing fancy, just a toothbrush, small tubes of toothpaste and shampoo, miniature deodorant. The shower and sink had white ceramic handles, and the hardwood floor was covered with a big, plush red rug.

  Everything was tidy—like Tucker. Very unlike her. Still, it only took her five minutes to destroy the place—throwing off clothes, making up the bed, steaming up the bathroom in a nice, hot shower. While she was drying off—wearing the white terry-cloth robe—she had the bad, bad feeling that the evening wasn’t over yet.

  She still had time to show very poor judgment. To make an impulsive decision that had frightening and difficult consequences. To act before she’d thoroughly considered the repercussions.

  She was so good at doing those things that she readily recognized the signs. The way her heart was pounding. The way her jaw looked stubbornly set in the mirror. The way her nerves were even more jittery than before.