Make Me a Match

by Melinda Curtis

  Nora stood outside the Bar & Grill, shading Zoe’s eyes from the bright morning sunshine.

  Time to get this show on the off-road. “I need everyone in the Suburbans. Ladies, you need to sit with one of the men Gideon brought to your attention.” Coop had taken two large SUVs off his lot and rented two large trailers, which he’d filled with every two-seater ATV he could borrow or rent in town.

  The day wasn’t all about matchmaking. He was hoping to sell a Suburban to Mike. It was large enough he could take all his fishing buddies in the eight-seater. Coop was also hoping for a kiss for luck from Nora. One without strings.

  He had a better chance of selling a Suburban.

  “What time will you be back?” Nora asked when Coop came to say goodbye.

  “Worried about me?” The wind whistled between the buildings. Coop adjusted Zoe’s stocking cap more firmly around her little ears.

  “I’m a mother. I worry about everything.” At his frown she added, “I worry this matchmaking thing is going to blow up in your face. And I’m worried someone out here is going to get their feelings hurt.”

  Mine. When you leave and take Zoe.

  He had a thing for her. Couldn’t she tell? The wind reached its cold hands inside his jacket and shook the material, covering up Coop’s shock at the increasingly strong sentiment that he didn’t want Nora and Zoe to go.

  “If you and your friends are serious about matchmaking, you should charge for these things.” She half turned away from him, sheltering Zoe from the wind.

  “We’re serious.” About winning the bet and getting out of Alaska. “This kind of work can open doors for us.”

  “I hope you don’t mean bedroom doors.” Her smile sparkled as bright as sunshine on a snowdrift.

  Would Nora want to leave? To go through that open door with him? “Have you ever thought about moving away from Alaska?”

  “No.” Her brow furrowed. “Why would I? My older brothers live here.”

  The hopes he hadn’t acknowledged fell. Nora wanted to stay. He wanted to go. Yet he couldn’t quite let loose the idea. “What if there was a job waiting for you in another state?”

  Her gaze turned suspicious. “I thought you were serious about the matchmaker business, about building something and...”

  “I am, but I’m also not close-minded about better jobs elsewhere.” And then he made a tactical error. “We made a bet with Coach about the matchmaking and if we win...”

  “You made a bet involving a job?” Clouds of frost emitted from her mouth and chilled him. “Is this a game to you?”

  “No. Keep your voice down.” He took her arm and walked away from the vehicles. “These are my friends. I want them to be happy.”

  “But there’s a bet involved.” Her face pinched, and not from the cold.

  “Coop, let’s get this show on the road.” Ty climbed into the passenger seat of the lead Suburban.

  Suddenly, Coop was all too aware that the clock was ticking on his and Nora’s time together. “You’ll be here when I get back? I’ll explain everything then.”

  “Of course I’ll be here. Mary Jo is going with you.”

  “Good.” He leaned in and kissed Zoe’s nose.

  And then he kissed Nora’s, telling himself it wasn’t a final kiss goodbye.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “WE’RE GOING TO LEAVE, Zoe, and that’s that.” Nora fastened the baby’s diaper tabs in the Bar & Grill’s bathroom a few hours after the matchmaking group had left. “Your father may not be exactly like my father, but he’s still a flake.” Matchmaking on a bet? “Who needs him?”

  Unfortunately her heart wasn’t on the same page as her declaration. She enjoyed Coop’s company. She wanted to talk about hockey and politics and Zoe’s future with him. She wanted to dance and kiss and laugh and smile with him.

  “But I want chocolate, too,” she cooed to Zoe. “And I don’t keep that around the house.”

  “I shaved my legs for this?” Mary Jo traipsed into the restroom, followed by a group of women. “I have mud up the legs of my jeans and down my backside.”

  Tatiana followed her in, took one look at her reflection in the mirror and shrieked. “I have helmet hair? Why didn’t someone tell me?”

  Nora snapped Zoe into her pink, footed jumper. The guys must be devastated. Not that they didn’t deserve some devastation for playing with people’s hearts. “I guess the trip didn’t go well.”

  “Go well? Did you see my hair?” Tatiana pointed to the flattened hair above her ears with a comb. She began teasing it back to life. Soon it looked more like a lopsided dove’s nest than a swanky hairstyle.

  “Look at my jeans.” Mary Jo showed Nora her mud-covered and unidentifiable-debris-spattered backside. “These were brand-new.”

  “My mascara iced over and my eyes nearly froze shut.” Nadine rubbed at her eyes and then did a double take in the mirror. “Forget your hair, Tat. Why didn’t you tell me one of my eyelashes fell off?” She held out her sweater, searching for the missing beauty accessory.

  “You sat in the front seat.” Tatiana went to work on the other side of her hair. “I couldn’t see your face.”

  “Ah.” Nora bit back a smile as she picked up Zoe. “That’s what’s on Mary Jo’s jeans.”

  “Ruined,” Nadine muttered, plucking the lash from her friend’s behind. With a sigh, she carefully peeled off the other eyelash. “Can I borrow your mascara, Tat?” Nadine didn’t wait for approval before digging in Tatiana’s purse. “This was stupid. The point of a social is to look good, be social and talk.”

  “With hotties.” Tatiana never paused her mad, fluffing rhythm.

  Mary Jo grabbed a handful of paper towels and wiped at her butt. “A place where you can hear what a man says.”

  The three women stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. And then they all started laughing.

  Nora missed out on the joke. “What’s so funny?”

  Tatiana edged Nadine out of the mirror space. “It was actually kind of nice not to hear them.”

  Nadine pumped the brush in the mascara tube. “All they talk about is fishing and hunting and hockey.”

  “And the weather.” Mary Jo gave up wiping. She threw the towels in the trash. “And the road conditions. And...I don’t know. Boring stuff?”

  “What would you like them to talk about?” Nora asked, rubbing Zoe’s back.

  Silence. More exchanged looks, as if they were afraid to spill some mighty secret.

  “Okay, I’ll say it.” Nadine turned to Nora, hand on hip. “I’d like to talk about me. And hear about him. What did he think of a movie we’ve both seen? What does he think about the roof that caved in from snow at the elementary school? It’s like their conversational skills are buried beneath their beards.”

  The women nodded. Nora silently agreed. That described a lot of men she knew.

  Except Coop.

  “What’s the point?” Tatiana gave up trying to fluff her hair. “The men in this town don’t try. They can’t even be bothered to shave beyond once a year. Ty and Mike don’t shave at all. It’s got to be better in the Lower 48.”

  Nora wasn’t so sure.

  * * *

  “THAT WAS A DISASTER,” Ty muttered, meeting Coop’s gaze in the mirror of the men’s room where Coop was cleaning up at the sink so he could hold Zoe.

  “A mushroom cloud of disaster,” Gideon added, leaning against the wall.

  “I hear you,” Coop said. “I might have salvaged the day if Mike made me an offer for that red Suburban.”

  “Are you giving up?” Ty’s beard practically quivered with anger.

  “No,” Coop said carefully, unable to ignore the gut-twisting feeling of impending failure. “But have you ever wondered if we were meant to sta
y here?”

  Ty’s expression turned mushroom-cloud dark. “You. Of all people.” He flung open the door hard enough to make it bang against the wall.

  “Seriously,” Gideon said. “It’s as though Nora came to town and you lost your edge. We need the shark who can sell a car to a guy who’s got twenty.” He stalked out.

  Had Coop lost his edge? He looked in the mirror. Beard? Check. Flannel? Check. Hadn’t he just taken an ATV through sloppy terrain? Yes, he had. There was no issue with his edge or salesmanship. Except...

  He washed dishes. He changed wet diapers. He had a car seat in his truck.

  It’ll all be worth it if Nora stays.

  His Y chromosome banged a protest in his chest, demanding the return of his maleness, of his drive for his dreams. Coop looked in the mirror. Twenty years he’d had this dream. He wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Did that make him a bad dad?

  Coop went out to face the music: twelve singles who’d complained bitterly about the cold, muddy conditions all the way down Sky Hawk Mountain and two good friends who deserved his all.

  Nora stood by the bar arguing with Gideon and Ty. Zoe lay in the portable bassinet at her feet, cooing softly.

  “She might have a point,” Gideon was saying.

  Ty had the fingers of one hand splayed upward through his thick beard, covering his mouth.

  “What’s up?” Coop draped an arm casually over Nora’s shoulders. She startled, but didn’t shrug him off.

  “She wants all of us to shave.” Eyes wide, Ty curled his fingers in his facial hair. “And it’s not even March.”

  Nora wanted it?

  The urge to say, “Take me to your razor” was almost overwhelming. Instead, Coop said, “All of us?” in a tremulous voice.

  “Yes, all.” Nora shrugged off his arm. “The women shaved. And ironed their clothes. And put on lipstick. What did you and your guys do?”

  “We gassed up the vehicles,” Coop said matter-of-factly, despite a very small voice in his head counseling him to shut up and shave.

  “And?” Nora waited to hear more. When there was no more, she shot them a look of blue-eyed disgust. “My point exactly.” She picked up Zoe and met Coop’s gaze squarely. “Where’s the nearest barbershop? Maybe I can get one of the braver men here to shave, because if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s half measures.”

  Translation: Coop had earned the same loser stamp as Nora’s dad. How many points had that cost him?

  “You mean, you want us to shave now?” Ty looked as though he might faint. His beard covered the worst of his scar. “That’s not how we do things here.”

  “Look around.” Nora gestured to the bar crowd. “The guys are sitting together by the windows and the women are sitting together along the wall. It’s a social. Shouldn’t they be socializing?”

  Three men took in the situation. Three men remained silent. Three men who claimed they’d do anything to win the bet were balking over facial hair. And in Coop’s case, it wasn’t even good facial hair.

  Mike stood, heading toward the door. Had he heard his beard—the longest in town—was at risk?

  “Kiss your matchmaking hobby goodbye.” Nora huffed. “It was all a stupid game to you anyway, but it was serious to your friends. I guess that proves what kind of friends you really are.”

  “We already knew about Coop,” Ty muttered.

  Gideon didn’t speak or move.

  But Nora did. She walked away, carrying Zoe in the bassinet. It felt as if she was leaving for good.

  The bet was demolishing Coop’s friendships and destroying his chance at being a father. If Coop didn’t do something, his friends would never speak to him again. And Nora? She’d walk away tomorrow, taking Zoe with her. Forever.

  “We’re not losing anything.” Coop found his determination, his pride. “Get your parka, Nora. This was your idea.” He raised his voice. “This social isn’t over. Guys, get your coats. Every man is coming with me. Ladies, you stay here until we return.” Coop was on a mission. “Mike, I need you to open the barbershop.”

  “Mike is the town barber?” Nora was flabbergasted. “You’re in more trouble than I thought.”

  “Where’s the baby’s snowsuit?” Coop plucked Zoe from the bassinet. “The men in this town are going to prove just how serious they are about finding their soul mates.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE WOMEN DIDN’T stay at the bar.

  And Nora couldn’t blame them.

  She stood inside the barbershop by the front windows, surrounded by six muddy, flat-haired, skimpy-lashed women. She could feel their excitement—in their hushed voices, repressed giggles and wide-eyed stares. It was unprecedented. Spring was coming early this year.

  Coop was the first to go under the blade. His green eyes sought Nora’s in the mirror. They blazed with a message: Here’s what I’m willing to do for you.

  Nora could barely breathe as Coop’s cheeks and chin were revealed, stroke by stroke. Here was the face she’d fallen for on St. Patrick’s Day, the one she’d cursed when she realized she was pregnant and the one she’d sent thoughts of thanks to when she’d first held Zoe in her arms.

  Mike whisked away the barber’s drape.

  Coop stood, looking as though he’d fit in anywhere in the Lower 48, despite the flannel and the snow boots. Nora found herself in front of him. She touched his smoothly shaved cheek. “I hardly recognized you with the beard. And now...”

  “You’d know me anywhere. Beard or not.” He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

  She should pull her hand away. She should leave the barbershop. She did neither. How could she? She could barely breathe.

  “You knew me when we met in the bar last year,” he said. “You knew me the moment you walked into the Bar & Grill last week.”

  “It was your eyes.” It had always been his eyes, so filled with laughter and warmth and desire.

  “That’s good. That’s really good. Because my eyes don’t get shaggy in winter.” His smile reached past her defenses and made her legs feel unsteady.

  “Uh, Coop?” Mike stood behind the empty barber’s chair. “Next?”

  Every man in the place had a sudden, urgent interest in their shoes.

  “I knew it.” Tatiana rolled her eyes.

  “Gideon? Ty?” Coop searched for his friends in the crowded shop.

  “Ty didn’t come.” Gideon separated himself from the crowd and eyed the chair as if it was a hibernating bear he didn’t want to wake.

  Coop went to Gideon’s side. “Gideon?” The sharp doubt in that one ice-laden word could have punctured the hull of the Titanic.

  It might just as well have been Nora who made the bet. She felt just as defeated as Coop looked.

  A man in the back laughed. And then another. And another. Until the entire shop, with the exception of the matchmakers and Nora, was laughing with bullet-dodging relief.

  Coop’s shoulders sagged. A door seemed to close in his face, closing off his expression, shutting out his smile.

  Gideon saw it, too. He touched the placket of his polo and sat in the chair. “I don’t know what the big deal is. It’s only hair. It’ll grow back next winter.”

  The room filled with a different sort of laughter. Casual, friendly, accepting.

  For the first time Nora believed Coop’s matchmaking would work.

  But the group’s laughter rolled right over Nora. She had a steady, predictable life in Anchorage. She didn’t gamble—not on cockamamy ventures or confirmed bachelor’s hearts. Zoe needed her to make smart decisions, to be reliable, to put Zoe’s welfare over the power of a man’s grin.

  Coop’s laughter drifted from across the room and settled in her chest, near her heart. The same heart that whispered, Stay. He’s the
one.

  Oh, no. What had happened?

  Coop had charmed her. He’d charmed her the way he’d done the night Zoe was conceived. She’d never learn. Even now she could feel the yearning in her heart to go to him. Silly. She couldn’t fall in love with Coop. She couldn’t let him break her heart or Zoe’s.

  Nora returned to the safety of the women, where she watched man after man shed his facial hair. Finally they watched Mike shave himself.

  Tatiana gasped. “Mike hasn’t shaved for years.”

  “He could be hiding something gruesome beneath that beard,” Nadine whispered.

  “Not with those shoulders,” Mary Jo murmured.

  And he wasn’t. Mike was rock-star handsome. All the men were.

  The hair on the ground was swept into drifts. The matchmakers began pairing couples. This time there was no reluctance. No griping from the women.

  And the men? Mike asked if anyone had seen the latest action movie. Derrick and Mary Jo talked about the repairs needed to the school roof. Another couple discussed the upcoming mayoral race.

  Nora stood apart by the windows. Alone, with Zoe.

  * * *

  “IT WORKED.” Gideon slapped Coop on the back when they returned to the bar for the mixer and lunch. “They’re pairing up.”

  “They’re falling in love,” Ty said, somewhat in awe. He scratched his traitorous beard.

  “That’s not love.” Coop watched Nora settle into a booth in the back and adjust Zoe for a late lunch.

  After he’d shaved, she’d stood with him—the same as any couple now—smiling up at him with accepting eyes while she’d touched his clean-shaven jaw. And then it was as if Nora flipped a switch.

  If she loved him, she wouldn’t have been able to walk away. He’d seen a woman walk away before—his mother. He knew what that closed-off expression meant. Nora was packing up feelings. Shutting down her emotions to minimize hurt.

  That was essentially what Coop had done the morning his mother left. And the morning after Zoe was conceived.

  A pit formed in his stomach, the same way it did when he sensed a car buyer was no longer interested in a vehicle. It was the feeling that made him reassess the truth behind the potential buyer’s words. Did they really want the practical truck with snow tires? Had they dreamed of the fully loaded SUV with the tow package? Or deep down was their heart set on an impractical-for-Alaska minivan with the television screen in back?