Make Me a Match

by Melinda Curtis

  He knew what Nora wanted: a dependable man to help raise Zoe. Someone who wouldn’t hurt her child the way Nora had been hurt. That hadn’t changed. And in her eyes, he still didn’t fit the bill.

  But something had changed.

  Inside him.

  Coop turned to Gideon, who was talking to a fully bearded Ty about the several hockey farm teams Coach owned in the States. Coop should be excited. He should jump into the conversation about the up-and-coming Portland team. He should be looking ahead to a life filled with everything he’d dreamed of: a career in professional hockey!

  Instead, his gaze was drawn to Nora and Zoe.

  Gideon interrupted his thoughts. “It’s not working. Half the couples are leaving. And not as a couple.”

  Coop had a lifetime responsibility to Zoe. But his commitment to his friends had a deadline looming in two weeks. “You’re wrong, Gideon. Not everyone is leaving.”

  Three women stayed to marvel at Nora’s baby and perhaps dream a little.

  And suddenly Coop knew. “We’ve been working the wrong angle,” he told Gideon.

  * * *

  “NORA, YOU LOOK BEAT,” Coop said that afternoon after they’d returned home and the baby had been fed and changed. “Why don’t I take Zoe while you get some rest?”

  A grateful smile flashed across her face, only to be quickly replaced with a suspicious one. “You’re smiling. What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.” He tried to look innocent when in fact he was guilty. Zoe was the motivator to matchmaking, not clean-shaven faces or lipsticked lips.

  “No, thanks.” There was disappointment in her eyes behind the weariness. Disappointment in him.

  He wanted to see something very different in her eyes. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I was going to take her to the Shop and Sack. We need bread and milk.” At her questioning gaze, he added, “Can’t a man take his child to the grocery store?”

  “You want to show her off?”

  “No. No.” He tried to look innocent again.

  “Let the man have his moment,” Pop said. “You look as if a northern wind could blow you over. Can’t be good for you or the baby to be so tired, Nora.”

  “Okay.” Nora relented. “But take her diaper kit and her car seat and her favorite bumblebee pacifier.”

  Coop grabbed the bag and lifted Zoe into his arms. “I’ve got this.”

  “I... You...” Nora looked lost.

  “I’ll be careful with her.” Coop leaned in to kiss Nora’s cheek when he’d much rather kiss her lips. “Get some sleep.”

  She wasted no time heading for the spare bedroom.

  Pop trailed after Coop, following him outside. “What are you really up to?”

  “Bread and milk, Pop. Bread and milk.”

  * * *

  “I FEEL LIKE SCUM,” Gideon said beneath the speaker playing pop music at the Shop and Sack. “What if Nora finds out what we’re really doing with Zoe?”

  “We’re grocery shopping. Just...remind me to buy bread and milk,” Coop said firmly, but he stared down at a sleeping Zoe propped in her car seat on the shopping cart and worried the same thing. “And if we run into some single ladies accidentally while shopping...”

  “On purpose.” Ty stroked his whiskers.

  “Do you have to do that?” a clean-shaven Gideon snapped. No truer indication of his stress level existed than annoyance in Gideon’s tone.

  “What?” Ty tried to play the innocent, but he couldn’t quite stop a smile.

  “You know what.” Gideon crossed his arms.

  Coop tried distraction. “Did I hear a woman’s voice?”

  “No,” they both said, exchanging the most reluctant smiles known to man.

  Zoe stirred and made a mewling sound.

  Coop put a finger to his mouth. “Don’t wake her.”

  “I need to be back at the skating rink in thirty minutes for Pee-Wee league,” Ty said in a whisper as he glanced at a display of cereal. “Remember when they used to put a toy inside the box? Life used to offer the promise of a toy inside.”

  “It’s still offering a prize,” Coop said. “That’s the point of the bet. And Zoe.”

  “Just so you know, I’m not going to the bar tonight,” Gideon said matter-of-factly. “You’re going to have to deal with Nora on your own.”

  “I’m okay with that.” As long as he and his friends didn’t abandon each other now, in the trenches. Movement at the end of the coffee aisle caught his eye. “It’s Shawntelle Kingman. Come on.”

  “We’re going to burn in hell for this.” But Gideon followed.

  Coop stopped pushing the cart long enough to grab hold of Gideon’s shoulder. “That’s not true. I offer sales incentives all the time, same as you. I gave away microwaves with purchases last month. You offered a free toaster to anyone opening an account at your bank last summer.”

  “This is different,” Gideon insisted. “Dads shouldn’t use their kids like this.”

  Coop felt sucker punched. He shook his head. “Don’t say that.” He stroked Zoe’s cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “I’m not a bad dad... I just... Don’t say that.”

  “We lost Shawntelle,” Gideon said, obviously relieved.

  “She went to the beer aisle.” Ty looked as if he’d rather have kept that a secret.

  “I know this seems like a dumb idea, but we’re here. Let’s play it out.” Coop pushed the cart into the beer aisle, flanked by his friends, who pretended great interest in the snack-food displays.

  Another target appeared. Shy, single Eleanor Clambert crossed the center aisle and headed toward the dairy section. She was on their singles list, too.

  But first things first. Coop approached his target. “Hey, Shawntelle. Picking up something to watch a game? Isn’t wine more romantic?”

  “Romance?” Shawntelle looked up and then did a double take. “Wait. It isn’t March, is it? Your beards...”

  “We shaved.” Coop stroked his chin. “Along with several other single men in town.” No thanks to Ty.

  “Did you lose a bet or something?”

  “You have no idea,” Ty muttered and stroked his beard.

  Her gaze caught on Zoe. “I’d heard you had a baby, Coop. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” Would you like one of your own? “And you know what? She’s winning the hearts of every bachelor in town. Love is in the air.”

  “Get outta here.” But Shawntelle didn’t look away from Zoe’s sweet, sleeping face. “You and that crazy matchmaking business.”

  “Hey, we crazies got eight bachelors in town to shave.” That wasn’t a disapproving glare Coop sent Ty’s way. “People are talking.”

  Gideon handed Shawntelle a stapled survey. The list of questions had gotten longer. “This is our way of identifying what you want in a man. It’s still rough.”

  “But we’ve had success with it.” Fibbing, Coop gestured to the sleeping baby.

  Shawntelle stared at the survey in her hand as if she couldn’t remember how it had gotten there.

  Bearded, burly Darryl Whitefeather turned the corner, saw them and made a quick U-turn. Coop bid Shawntelle goodbye and hunted Darryl down, leaving Ty and Gideon behind.

  “Picking out some vegetables, Darryl?” Coop pulled his cart alongside the macho, muscular machinist. “Way to stay healthy. The ladies like that. I bet they notice you work out.” More likely they’d notice he was so bulky he had to live at the gym. What kind of woman found that appealing?

  Zoe began to fuss, drawing her knees toward her chest. Again? Coop only had a few minutes before he’d have to change a truly dirty diaper for the first time. He picked her up, hoping a different position would slow the process.

  “Listen, Coop.” The big man gave him a hard look. �
�I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m in Alaska because I want to be alone.” His gaze fell to Zoe’s face and his lips twitched enough to make him look less intimidating.

  Coop glanced down. “Hey, she’s smiling.” He laughed. “Look at my kid. Gideon! Ty!” He pushed the cart back the way he’d come. “Sorry, Darryl. Come by the Bar & Grill if you change your mind.”

  Gideon skidded around the corner, Ty close on his heels. “What? What happened?”

  “Look at her. Look at Zoe. She’s smiling.” She was smiling. At Coop. His chest swelled with love.

  And then Zoe tensed. A familiar noise came from her. A foul smell filled the air.

  “That’s my cue to leave.” Ty headed for the door.

  “Coward,” Coop called after him. He adjusted Zoe in his arms and tried to ignore the slam of trepidation in his gut. “Have you ever changed a diaper, Gideon?”

  “No.” Gideon had his hand over his nose and mouth. “And I’m not about to.”

  Zoe tensed again.

  My cup overfloweth... It never rains, it pours.

  Stop with the platitudes!

  “How hard can it be? We need the diaper kit and a flat surface.” Coop walked swiftly to the front of the store. “I left the kit in the truck. Can you get it for me?” He tossed Gideon his keys as they reached the checkout stands. “Nadine, where can I deal with a diaper crisis?”

  Nadine barely lifted her false eyelashes enough to look at Coop as she bagged Old Man Higgans’s groceries. “There’s a changing table in the ladies’ room, but men can’t go in there. It’s against regulations.”

  Old Man Higgans squinted through thick lenses at Coop, sniffed and high tailed it to the exit on skinny, bowed legs.

  Zoe started to fuss, whimpering and squirming. She did not like poopy pants.

  “I’m not going to change my daughter’s diaper in my truck when it’s thirty freezing degrees outside.” Coop pulled a wool, checked blanket off an endcap display and tossed it on the checkout counter. “I’ll take this. Open it up and put it on the conveyer.”

  Gideon came running back inside with the diaper kit, dumping its contents on the checkout counter. “What do you need?”

  “You can’t do that,” Nadine protested. “It’s against regulations.” She fixed Gideon with a false-eyelashed glare. “You’d know store policy if you read the signs and not women’s magazines.”

  “I told you,” Gideon said through limit-testing, gritted teeth. “I bought them for matchmaking purposes.”

  “Nadine.” There were bigger issues at hand. “I either change her here or I go in the ladies’ room. Either way, regulations will be broken.”

  Nadine had never looked so indecisive. Not even in the eighth grade when Coop and Ty had showed up on her doorstep at the same time to ask her to the same dance. She’d ended up going with Gideon, who didn’t dance, not even the slow songs.

  Coop couldn’t wait for Nadine to make up her mind. Zoe was a ticking time bomb when it came to dirty diapers. “Nadine, that truck you’ve been driving has been in too often for service lately.” Coop managed to unzip the plastic around the blanket with one hand and unfold it a time or two on the counter. “If you let me change Zoe’s diaper here on this blanket I’m buying, I’ll give you a good price on a low-mileage truck and Gideon will give you a good rate on a loan.”

  Nadine brightened. “You can change her here as long as you understand it’s a one-time thing.”

  “Nobody plans on accidents, Nadine.” Coop put the changing pad on top of the blanket and laid Zoe on it. “They just happen. Like life, sometimes.” He set about freeing Zoe’s leg snaps as if he might break something. Instead, his controlled unsnapping sent all the material on one pant leg free.

  Zoe startled. Her face crumpled. A frail cry filled the air, a precursor of bad things. Very bad things.

  “No, no, no. None of that, missy,” Coop said in his best daddy-loves-you voice. “Your dad needs a little patience here.”

  “First diaper?” Nadine asked.

  “Of this sort.” First kid. First nasty pants. First love.

  First love?

  Ah, yes. It was love. Why not admit it? He loved both Nora and Zoe. Nora was everything Coop wasn’t—brutally honest, brave and beautiful to her core. He cut corners. He fudged facts. And he certainly wasn’t brave. If he had been, he would have left K-Bay long ago. Ty’s accident... Pop’s disabilities. They were excuses.

  He couldn’t let Nora leave tomorrow. Darryl pushed his cart within a safe viewing distance. “This I’ve gotta see.”

  “Viewing comes at a price.” Gideon lurched past Coop. “You’ll have to sign up for matchmaking services.”

  “And shave.” Ty appeared in the doorway, shoulders dusted with snow. “Sorry, Coop. I panicked.”

  “I’m only signing up if Coop changes that diaper himself.” Darryl smirked.

  “This may be my first messy-pants change.” Coop kept with the day-care-daddy tone of voice. “But it won’t be my last.”

  “Bravo,” Nadine said.

  Shawntelle came up behind Darryl, surveyed his cart and then compared it to hers. “You’re making me feel guilty about junk food and beer, Darryl.” She smiled in a way that said she didn’t feel incredibly guilty. “Here, Gideon. I filled out the matchmaking paperwork.”

  Darryl peered at the contents of her cart. “You’re making nachos for the game tonight?”

  Zoe shrieked, dragging Coop’s attention back to the challenge at hand.

  “Easy, girl.” Coop laid a hand on her stomach.

  “Nachos and sports are a must in my house. Hope you change that diaper, Coop.” Shawntelle sounded as if she was smiling. “I’d like to see Darryl without facial hair.”

  “I’d like to see you eat a vegetable,” Darryl quipped.

  “I put peppers on my nachos,” she shot back.

  While Gideon handed Darryl a survey and Ty provided a pen, Zoe’s lip quivered at the slow, inefficient style of Coop’s diaper change.

  Coop had adjusted carburetors and changed air filters in big-rig engines with the motor running and the drivers irate. He’d sold three vehicles at one time when he’d had a Christmas in July sale and both his salesmen had hopped on fishing boats the day before. He could change one little girl’s diaper, especially when it was his little girl.

  Gideon returned to the bagger’s station just as Coop released the tabs holding the diaper closed. “Okay, then.” He held out a hand toward Gideon. “Wipe.” When no wipe was forthcoming, Coop glanced at his friend.

  Gideon’s face was a sickly shade of green. He had a hand over his mouth and nose again. “The deal was you change it alone.”

  Sophie Jennings walked in through the main doors. Gideon gripped the counter.

  And wasn’t that interesting?

  Sophie paused, ready to come to someone’s assistance. She was always willing to lend a hand. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re watching history being made.” Shawntelle had her cell phone out. “I’m gonna post this later.”

  “Go on.” Ty’s voice vibrated with laughter. “Take one for the team, Coop.”

  Gideon seemed struck speechless by Sophie’s entrance.

  “If I do this, Ty, you’re visiting the barber,” Coop said, getting down to business. A few minutes later, when he’d finished, he’d drawn quite a crowd. “Tonight, I want to see all you singles at the Bar & Grill. Everybody fill out a survey and everybody shave before you get there.”

  The crowd filled out surveys, even the town recluse, Eleanor Clambert.

  Shawntelle eyed Darryl. Darryl eyed Shawntelle.

  “When Coop said shave, I think he meant you, Darryl.” Shawntelle’s smile was positively wicked.

  “Wrong.” Coop wrapped Zoe in h
er hot pink blanket and strapped her into her carrier, thinking of Nora’s words earlier. “I meant both of you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “THERE’S YOUR BEAUTIFUL MOMMY.” Coop’s deep voice drifted into Nora’s dreams.

  Zoe’s weight came to a gentle rest on her chest. Nora opened her eyes.

  Coop’s face was close to hers, clean-shaven and handsome. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Nora’s forehead.

  “For what?” She pushed herself to a sitting position.

  His hand cradled Zoe’s sleeping head. “For having her.” He kissed Nora’s forehead again. “For bringing her here.” He kissed her nose. “For giving me the chance to be a dad.” And then his lips settled on Nora’s.

  So tender. So gentle. So right. Like the night they’d met, but without the crazy spur-of-the-moment urgency. He kissed her as if they had all the time in the world and he’d be content kissing her until the end of time.

  Nora wanted to slip her hand to the back of his neck, wanted to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss. But she had to think of what was best for Zoe.

  And a father who picked up women at bars and played at matchmaker wasn’t her idea of reliable.

  And so she ignored her heart, heeded her head and drew gently away. A cold knot formed in her chest, loosely tangled loops of regret and sorrow.

  Coop gazed into her eyes with all the warmth and tenderness she’d expected from him that disastrous morning after, with all the promise in his eyes that she’d ever dreamed of.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she forced herself to say.

  The warmth and tenderness drained, replaced by a cool expression she hadn’t seen since she’d first walked into the bar over a week ago.

  He stepped back. One step. Then another.

  With each step she felt the ends of the knot in her chest tighten.