Mistletoe Matchmaker. Lissa Manley
for her business.
Worse, a town the size of Moonlight Cove wasn’t exactly a hotbed of computer repair options. Far from it. There was one guy who was good, and it was common knowledge he was scheduled weeks out. No help there.
She chewed on her lip. Maybe she could ask Computer Man Grant to help…no, no, he was busy with his own work and wouldn’t be able to spare the time. Drat.
Just when she was about to spontaneously combust from anxiety she heard the buzzer on the front door go off, signaling the arrival of a customer. Glad for the distraction, she headed out front to relieve Gena. She closed the door to the back room, leaving Peter and Parker napping there.
Molly’s eyebrows shot up—and so did her heart rate—when she saw the unexpected pair who’d just walked in.
She turned to Gena. “I’ll handle this one. Why don’t you go take a break.”
Gena shrugged, grabbed her purse and went out the front door, her brunette ponytail swinging.
Molly headed to where Grant stood by the front counter. He was trying, in vain, to contain a wild Jade, who was acting pretty rambunctious, jumping up and down, woofing.
“Jade, sit!” Molly commanded, her dog training instincts kicking in.
Jade sat.
Molly grabbed a treat from her jeans pocket. “Good girl,” she said, giving Jade the treat. She cocked an eyebrow, then looked at Grant. “Is it my imagination, or is she particularly wild today?”
Grant rubbed his jaw, shaking his head. “Wild isn’t even the word. It hasn’t been a good morning.”
“I’m with you there,” Molly replied. “It’s been a rough morning here, as well.” Normally she was a good business problem solver, but today…well, not so much. She was a people person, not a computer whiz.
Grant studied her, his eyes alight with concern. “What’s wrong?” His gaze dropped to her bandaged finger. “Is your cut bothering you?”
His worry about her injury touched her. “Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
“Oh, good.” He drew his eyebrows together. “Then what’s up?”
“The thing is…I’m having a major computer problem,” she said sheepishly.
His ears perked up at the word computer. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, I’m being audited the day after tomorrow, and I can’t find the files I need for the IRS agent on my computer.” As she talked, she bent down and unhooked Jade from her leash. “They’re just…gone.”
He instantly went into techie mode. “Where are your backup files?”
“Um…I didn’t exactly back up my stuff.”
Classic rookie mistake. “Why not?”
“I forgot?”
Sighing, he said, “Bet you’ll back up from now on, won’t you?”
She made an X with her fingers over her heart. “I promise.”
He looked at his watch. Where had the day gone? “You want me to take a look?” He didn’t really have time, but the thought of leaving her floundering with the IRS breathing down her neck didn’t sit well with him.
“Oh, no, I know you’re on a tight schedule.”
“I can spare some time,” he said. Not exactly true, but close enough.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her green eyes starting to glow with hope. “I hate to impose.…”
“I’m sure,” he said. “I can probably track down the files in a half hour or so.”
“You think?” She touched his arm. “Oh, that would be great. And I tell you what. Since you’re doing me a favor, why don’t I take Jade off your hands for the next few days? She can hang out here with me, Peter and Parker during the day.”
Relief shot through him, taking his mind off the warm spot on his arm where she’d touched him. Dog problem solved. “That’d be great.” Definitely worth an hour, tops, of his time.
“You have time to take a look now?” she asked.
He gestured to the back room where he’d seen her desktop computer yesterday. “Lead the way.”
Just as he started to follow her back there, the door buzzer went off again. He and Molly turned in unison, and Jade let out a happy woof and ran to greet their visitor.
Phoebe walked into the store. She bent down and gave Jade a good ear scratching, then straightened and headed their way, waving colored papers in her hand.
“Hey, Phoebs,” Molly called. “I bet you’ve got flyers, don’t you?”
“I sure do, all made up for our Christmas specials,” she said, handing him and Molly each a bright red piece of paper. An impish grin took over Phoebe’s mouth. “In honor of the holiday, our flavor of the month is Candy Cane, and it’s really good. Buy one scoop, get one free through the end of the year.” Phoebe gave Molly a wide-eyed, unblinking look. “Maybe you two could stop in together sometime soon.”
Molly pursed her lips and glared at Phoebe. “Or maybe Grant could stop by and you two could have ice cream together.”
“I’d be working,” Phoebe said matter-of-factly. “No time for socializing.”
“Oh, and I have unlimited amounts of time for hanging out and eating ice cream?” Molly retorted, flipping her hair, her green eyes flashing like emeralds.
Grant hesitated, puckering his forehead, his gaze swinging back and forth between Phoebe and Molly. What was going on?
Then they both spoke at once, their words mixing up until he couldn’t understand either of them.
“Whoa, whoa, ladies,” he said after a few seconds of verbal mayhem, holding up both hands.
They both abruptly stopped talking and swung their gazes toward him.
“What’s up?” He put his hands on his hips. “I feel as if there’s some weird subtext playing out here that, frankly, I don’t really understand.”
Neither woman spoke. Instead, they just kind of glared at each other, their mouths tight.
Finally, Phoebe huffed, flopped the flyers down on the counter with a whap and said, “I guess I’ll warn you, since Molly will strike before you know what’s coming.”
“Warn me? Strike?” He grimaced. “What in the world are you talking about, since I doubt we’re on the subject of war games here?”
“Molly’s our resident matchmaker, and she’s quite good at it.” As she spoke, Phoebe unbuttoned her coat. “If you’re not careful, she’ll have you and me talking china patterns by the end of the week.”
Cold-edged surprise bounced like a rock through Grant. He turned to Molly, his jaw tight, his brow line raised so high he doubted he had eyebrows. “Is this true?”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze and remained suspiciously silent. Just tongue-tied? Or guilty as charged?
He was confident it was the latter.
Despite the store being kept at a very temperate seventy degrees, burning warmth flared in Molly’s cheeks as she tried to look anywhere but at Grant’s accusing stare.
Uneasiness poked her. Maybe her matchmaker idea hadn’t been a good one, after all. Or maybe she should have told him about her plan, even though that wasn’t usually the way she worked.
“Yes. Yes, it is true,” Molly answered honestly. Lying had never been her style. “I’m a matchmaker on the side.”