Make Me a Match

by Melinda Curtis

  “Only the pretzels are ready.” Tilda dunked a pretzel into a bowl of melted butter and shook her head. “I can’t believe no one has taught you how to have fun.”

  Kelsey squeezed the wide shoulder strap on her tote. She knew how to have fun. She just didn’t have time for fun. Hello, big difference. Her focus had to be on her career. Fun would come later. And if it never came, so be it. She’d had fun, in a once-in-a-blue-moon memory kind of way. In a different time. On a different ice rink. With a different boy. Her gaze found Ty. “The city is fun.”

  “Oh, my little lost lamb, fun isn’t sitting on your balcony alone, watching the crowds rush in and out of the bars and restaurants on the street below.” Tilda dropped the hot pretzel into another square pan and used the tongs to smash it into the salt. “Sometimes you just gotta let go, dive in and let the fun stick to you.”

  She’d tried that before and ended up just plain stuck. Now she let go in her columns and kept herself safe. “Thanks. As terrific as this has been, I’m going to find Ty and see if there is anything else he needs from me. I’ll come back for that hot chocolate.”

  Ty waited behind the counter in the skate bay beside the snack bar, holding on to several pairs of skates. Of course. Was there anything he didn’t do?

  Kelsey stepped around several of the women seated on the benches, removing their boots, and moved to Ty’s station. “I don’t need those.”

  “Right. You already missed the free skate portion. And besides, broomball is more fun without skates.”

  Ty’s tone brought Kelsey up short. Because he wasn’t being short with her. He sounded almost...glad to see her.

  There was something wrong here. “I’ll pass. I’d rather hear the story behind Trinity Matchmaking.” Kelsey crossed her arms over her chest.

  “After the game.” Ty held out a broomstick to her, handle first, with the bristles duct-taped.

  Kelsey didn’t move. “You never mentioned anything about a broomball game.”

  “You don’t need a ref for free skating,” Tilda called out from behind the soda fountain. “See my Clarence out there?”

  “Have you forgotten how to play?” Ty nudged the broomstick closer to her.

  “If I’m honest and say no, can we please forget about my participating?” She could blend in with the crowd during free skate. But broomball meant teams. She’d always been picked last for teams.

  “Why? Don’t city girls skate? Don’t city girls have fun?” Ty scratched his beard. “Did the city take your laughter, too, K.J.?”

  Kelsey grabbed the broom handle and gestured toward Ty. “The city didn’t take anything I hadn’t already lost here in K-Bay.”

  “Maybe it’s time to find some of those things again.” There was a challenge in his voice, as if he was testing her.

  “There’s nothing in my past I want found,” she said. Nothing she wanted found by Ty.

  “Then, we understand each other. The past remains where it belongs...in the past.” He released the broom. “Women against men. One game. Drinks and appetizers by the fire pits after the third period.”

  “And then we talk?” That had to happen first before she would decide where the past belonged.

  “If you brought new women interested in making real matches.” Ty tipped his chin toward the stick she held. “If you participate. Oh, and one more thing. If you’re going to write an article on us, we insist you take our matchmaking survey.” He handed her a paper and pen.

  Kelsey scowled. “Let me get this straight. No broomball, no interview. No survey, no interview.”

  His smile broadened enough that she could see his white teeth. “Now we’re on the same page.”

  Grumbling, Kelsey filled out the survey. No, she didn’t know the time she wanted her wedding to occur. Anytime from dawn until dusk when she could get the groom to meet her at the church would be ideal. That answer wasn’t an option. No, she hadn’t given much thought to pets before or after children. That would imply she’d planned... That was the next question. No, she didn’t know at what age she wanted to have her first child. Anytime after her upcoming June birthday and before menopause sounded about right. Again, that answer wasn’t listed. She glanced through the next page, checking boxes at random. Surely the guys didn’t really believe these questions would help them pair folks into happy couples?

  She pushed the pen and paper across the counter and asked, “Aren’t you playing, too?” Ty loved being on the ice almost as much as he loved to have fun.

  “I’m working.” His lips disappeared within his beard again, but his scowl was there in his tone and the stiff set to his shoulders.

  Again, Kelsey had the feeling that something was wrong. “I don’t imagine there’ll be much matchmaking required while the game is in progress.”

  “I don’t skate anymore.” He pressed his thumb like a fingerprint against his temple. “Haven’t in years.”

  Seven, she’d bet.

  “Can’t or won’t?” Her hands tightened around the broom handle; her breath quieted. And yet her blood pounded in her eardrums, and her nerves sparked as if she’d just received an injection of pure caffeine. The reporter inside her imagined sharpening her pencil. Some called it a hunch, others a gut reaction. Whatever it was, Kelsey paid attention. And she knew, like she knew the Sunday edition of the Beat went to bed at midnight every Saturday, that the real story hovered in the silence between them like a pin against a balloon. “Because of your injuries?”

  She let her gaze drift over Ty’s strong shoulders. She had yet to see him rub his neck as if it was sore. She’d bet if she could run her fingers beneath his pullover, she’d count a six-pack. And he hadn’t limped, not in the parking lot when they’d first met, not in the bar and not now. Only that subtle wince, the press of fingers to his head and the thin scar on his right cheek gave away that he’d been injured.

  His cheek tensed. The edges of his eyes narrowed.

  Story gold revved, zooming through her. “Why deny yourself the only thing you ever loved?”

  “I’ve loved more than one thing.” His voice dropped low into that deep rumble that came from somewhere inside the chest, close to the heart. But he didn’t move; his hands fisted at his waist, his feet remained spread apart. He was braced as if anticipating her attack. As if waiting for her to probe. Waiting for her to find his secrets.

  Because he had secrets.

  She was so excited, she could barely keep from hopping over the counter and grabbing on to his coat lapels. “Why don’t you skate anymore?”

  “Ty, I’m ready to trade skates for a broom.” Stacey Logan stepped up to the counter in her pink socks and set her skates on the counter.

  “Sure thing, Stacey.” Ty took her skates and disappeared into the storage bay.

  So close. Kelsey had been so close to him giving her the info that could make this feature fabulous.

  Stacey leaned her hip against the counter and smiled, unaware of her poor sense of timing. “Thanks for inviting me.” Stacey had a soft voice, a kind smile and a casualness about her that would make it easy to call her a friend.

  “Sorry about broomball. I didn’t know participation was a requirement.” Obviously. Although Kelsey was curious whom she’d be matched up with.

  “I think it’s going to be the best part.” Stacey was another one of Kelsey’s intentional finds. She was the daughter of Ty’s physical therapist. And a potential story source. “I wouldn’t have had the guts to come alone, but I’m glad I’m here.”

  “Maybe you could persuade Ty to join in. That is, if he’s still physically able...”

  “I did my ice time years ago.” Ty had returned with Stacey’s hiking boots. “Speaking of years ago, Stacey, you were in our freshman class, right?”

  “Yes. Kelsey and I had precalculus and British literature together
with Mrs. Bristow.” Stacey touched Kelsey’s arm. “You haven’t forgotten Bad Breath Bristow, have you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Remember, we took up a collection and gave her a jar of mints for Christmas.” Stacey was as sweet as those mints. If she knew anything about Ty’s recovery years ago, she’d never tell.

  “Right, and she claimed she was allergic to peppermint.” Kelsey shook her head. “She never touched the jar.”

  “Sounds interesting.” Ty laid a broomstick on the counter and started duct-taping the bristles. “But it’s not the freshman memory I like to recall. I have many, but one in particular is my favorite.” Ty flipped over the broom and chuckled. “It was at summer training camp.”

  The rich, deep sound of Ty’s laughter curled through Kelsey like spiked hot chocolate, warming and delighting in all kinds of forbidden ways. He did still hold a fond memory of her.

  “Remember the time camp was closed to the public?” Stacey fluffed her hair. “I know because I had a crush on Nathan Daniels and I wanted to bring him lunch or a snack or even water, but I couldn’t.”

  “That’s what I was referring to, Stace. The camp was closed after a particular freshman crashed our practice.” Ty’s tone conveyed a shared secret.

  If Ty said one more word, Kelsey was going to kill him.

  Kelsey desperately motioned toward the rink. “Isn’t the game about to start?”

  “When I blow the whistle,” Ty said. “And besides, we have one man down with faulty equipment.” He smiled at Stacey.

  “You’re almost done with her stick,” Kelsey said, trying to sound as if Ty’s detour through the back alleyway of high school memory lane was no big deal. “I’m sure Stacey wants to get ready. Maybe find a man out there to bring water to.”

  Stacey leaned against the counter, content to let Ty finish repairing her broom at his own pace. “Wait, I remember a rumor about a freshman flashing the hockey team.”

  It hadn’t been the team. Team implied multiple players. It had been only one. The goalie. Ty. Kelsey was certain the red dye in her scarf had leaked into her cheeks.

  Not that Stacey had a clue. She’d body blocked Kelsey out of the conversation as if she was no longer necessary. This was why Kelsey didn’t join in.

  “But that was high school lore. A myth.” Stacey reached out to Ty, wide-eyed. “Oh, no way. Did it really happen?”

  “It’s burned in my memory as if it happened yesterday,” Ty said.

  “Wonder what that girl was thinking,” Stacey ventured.

  She’d been thinking she wanted Ty Porter’s attention. She’d been thinking she wanted him to see something other than a puck. She’d been thinking if she let go and embraced the spontaneous, she’d discover a different life. Instead, she’d been grounded through hockey season, listened to Tilda’s bangles after school every day and eaten jawbreakers.

  “It’s in the past.” Ty handed the stick to Stacey. “Could be I’m remembering it all wrong. Maybe that’s what I wanted to happen.”

  “Ty Porter, you’re making me want to gossip like a teenager again, which is just fine. I need something to talk to the nurses about when my treatments start up again in a few weeks.” Stacey laughed, cradling her boots in one hand, her broomstick in the other. Ty squeezed her arm. Stacey stretched her smile wider, shook her head. “Tonight isn’t about that. Tonight we beat the boys.”

  Stacey bumped her hip against Kelsey’s as she passed. Kelsey glanced down at Stacey’s pink socks, noticing for the first time the familiar ribbons printed all over them. Unfortunately the Beat didn’t want an article about the nearest clinic being a hundred miles away. Or what it was like to drive home from chemo in a snowstorm. And Kelsey wanted Stacey’s insider information on Ty, not her real-life story, even if it was one that needed to be told.

  Ty stopped Kelsey from leaving with a hand on her arm. “K.J., you don’t have any Mardi Gras beads stashed in your pockets, do you? I want this to be a fair game. No talismans. No tricks.”

  Kelsey wanted to swat his touch away with her broomstick and brush off his hopeful-sounding voice. “If I had any now, I’d use them to wipe out your memory.”

  “Hey, I was an impressionable young man.”

  “And I left an impression,” Kelsey muttered.

  “Indelibly.” When Kelsey leaned across the counter to try to slug his shoulder, Ty jumped away, threw his head back and laughed. This time his whole body was involved—it was that rare, unguarded kind of laughter released only in the safety of trusted friends.

  A warmth swirled through Kelsey along with the bitterness from questioning whether she’d ever let go like that. If she’d ever been that secure. Perhaps once. With Ty.

  But all they shared now was distrust and bylines.

  And she wasn’t here to change history. Or even repeat it.

  Kelsey pulled her phone from her back pocket and snapped a picture of Ty before he frowned at her. She knew without reviewing the photograph that she’d captured the money shot for the feature. Ty Porter: chin tilted up, head tipped back, openmouthed grin, laughter in the lines fanning his eyes. Pure pleasure. Pure joy. One carefree moment captured and later twisted.

  Kelsey strode over to the bench, away from Ty’s laughter and her memories of him.

  She uploaded the photograph of Ty to her social media app, adding beneath the caption, Should your #matchmaker wear #skates? Do credentials and history matter in your matchmaker choice? Or are looks enough? Inside scoop Sunday. Then she hit the publish button.

  She ignored the roiling in her own gut. This was nothing more than she’d always done. She made headlines.

  At the snack bar, Tilda dropped steaming pretzels into the salt bath, one after another. She glanced at Kelsey, slowed her movements and released another pretzel into the pan. “Time to dive in, little lamb.”

  Kelsey shoved open the door that led to the outdoor rink. She’d join in. This one time. If only to prove it wouldn’t change anything.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KELSEY MOVED INTO the left forward position. She expected a clean game, and instead what ensued was a competitive one with dirty plays and trash-talking. Five minutes into the second period, the coed melee had exploded.

  Kelsey wasn’t certain if it had started when gigantic Trent picked up Summer, or when Jason, the lumberjack, had stolen the ball. Or when Holly had tossed her glove on the ice, bent over with an extra thrust in her chest area to retrieve it, and Charlie, charming because he was clumsy, had tripped over Holly’s stick. Either way, Trent had refused to put Summer down, so Kelsey had swatted him with her broom. Charlie’s stick had slid into the goal, prompting Eleanor to pick it up.

  “All’s fair in love and hockey, boys,” Stacey shouted before she and her new pal, Holly, grabbed Jason’s belt from behind, tugging him away from the women’s goal. He managed to shoot before spinning and wrapping the pair in a bear hug as Ty stepped onto the ice to help Charlie up.

  A shrill whistle finally broke through all the laughter and shouting.

  “Trent, you need to put that girl down. This ain’t a pairs skating competition. You’re in the box for five.” Clarence then sent bear-hugger Jason to the penalty box for interference, followed by Charlie, who’d come out of his goal to join in the chaos. The men protested the loss of their goalie, prompting Clarence, the ref, to point directly at Ty. “You’re in the box in his place.”

  Kelsey set her hands on her hips. “Ty isn’t even playing.”

  “He was on the ice when the penalty occurred.” Clarence winked at her. “You’re in there, too, for hitting, and you can take your goalie’s time with you.”

  Kelsey walked to the women’s penalty box. “Whose rules are these?”

  “Mine.” Clarence chuckled before blowing the whistle to begin play.

  Ty jo
ined Kelsey in the women’s penalty box.

  “Your box is over there.” Kelsey jabbed her broom handle across the ice.

  “No room.” Ty dropped onto the bench beside her and stretched out his long legs, crossing one ankle over the other.

  “How long are we in here for?”

  Ty stacked his hands behind his head. “Until Clarence lets us out.”

  “Aren’t there time standards? Two minutes? Five?” Kelsey leaned her broom against the wall and wrapped the fleece blanket that someone had left on the bench around her legs. “Those were minor penalties.”

  “There was holding, hooking, tripping and high brooming that I saw.” Ty’s breath came out in long puffs. “And I believe at one point Eleanor held two brooms and the ball. Add those together and you’re here for more than ten minutes.”

  “I only hit Trent to get him to put Summer down,” Kelsey said, enjoying their banter more than she should.

  “And he’s over there in our box,” Ty said. “Punished, as well.”

  “Holly dropped her glove. It wasn’t her fault Charlie—the smoothy—did a somersault over her broomstick when she went to get it.” Kelsey tucked her hair up inside her hat. “I suspect he’d trip on flat pavement with no one around.”

  Ty chuckled. “No doubt.”

  “But Holly got his attention.” Kelsey smiled.

  “As planned, I’m sure,” Ty said. “Like you planned to get my attention at training camp.”

  “I was young. Stupid,” she said. “One very bad decision that is in the past. Forgotten.”

  “So you forget bad decisions and move on?” he asked.

  “I try not to repeat the mistake,” she said. “I don’t know that I ever forget.”

  “There’re things I can’t forget,” he said. “And things I don’t want to forget.”

  “That’s rather convoluted.”

  “Not really. I don’t want to forget that afternoon. One of the few times I witnessed you embrace your free spirit.” Ty’s voice had lost all its teasing. “And all for me.”