The Littlest Matchmaker. Dorien Kelly
was well past the picket fence when he heard her say good-night. Those words were far from a yes, but at least she was still speaking to him. Kevin felt better than he had in weeks. Now if he could just do the same for Lisa.
Chapter Three
At nearly six the following evening, as Lisa made her way from Shortbread Cottage to Malloy’s Pub, one question stuck in her mind: if this wasn’t a date, why were her palms clammy?
Maybe she shouldn’t have heightened her expectations—and her anxiety level—by changing from her work clothes to a vividly colored sundress, thin cotton wrap and sandals that had a little heel to them. The outfit was undeniably datelike, as was the fact that she had actually put on makeup. While walking to the pub she’d already garnered a teasing comment from elderly Mr. Haughtman, the village’s bookstore owner, about being “all gussied up,” and a “totally hot” from one of her college-aged coffee customers.
Before opening the door to Malloy’s, Lisa drew one last deep and fortifying breath. Maybe she hadn’t been out socially with a man other than James since meeting him over six years ago, but she knew she could do this. She just wasn’t sure she’d enjoy it.
Lisa stepped into the pub. As always, the place was busy. The mingled scents of garlic and grilled steak wafted from the kitchen, and the chat and laughter of the patrons drifted over the background music. She had just begun to look around for Kevin when someone called her name. She followed the voice to its owner, Kathleen Malloy, sister of the pub’s owner, Conal. Kathleen waved her over to where she sat at the bar.
Lisa had known the woman forever. Kathleen, who’d been a few years ahead of her in school and part of the “in” crowd, had become her unofficial big sister when Lisa entered high school. Though their paths had been distinctly different since those school days—Kathleen was now an attorney—they remained friendly.
By the time Lisa had wound through the tables to the bar, Kathleen had stood. The women gave each other a hug.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” she said. “Pull up a stool and have dinner with me.”
“I’d love to, but I’m meeting someone,” Lisa replied, then quickly scanned the diners for Kevin. Sunshine streamed into the bar’s big front windows, leaving her just the patrons’ silhouettes to choose from.
“Is it Courtney?” Kathleen asked. “I bumped into her last night, and she said she’s been angling to get you out into the world again.”
Maybe it was just a symptom of Guilt and Self-recrimination Thursday, but those “Lisa is a hermit” comments were beginning to sting.
“Hey, it’s not as though Shortbread Cottage is a cloistered convent. But, no, it’s not Courtney,” she said, still glancing around for Kevin.
When she looked back at Kathleen, Lisa noted that she was being scrutinized more carefully.
“I think I have it now,” Kathleen said. “You’re too dressed up for dinner with Courtney. It’s a date, right? But with who? You never get out…You must have tried one of those online dating services and now you have to pick out Mr. Lucky from the crowd!”
Conal, who had just finished waiting on the customer next to his sister, joined in the conversation. “Lisa has a Mr. Lucky?”
Lisa winced. “Ew. That sounds flat-out wrong.”
“Lisa’s trying online dating,” Kathleen advised her brother.
Lisa had seen this game before. The Malloys were like terriers. Once they got an idea clamped between their teeth, there it would stay, fiercely held for their own purposes. In this case, she feared she was the purpose.
“I’m not doing online dating,” she said emphatically. “None. Zilch. Zip. Nada.”
As she expected, the siblings disregarded her announcement.
“And so we’re date-spotting?” Conal asked.
Kathleen nodded her head.
“I’ll bet it’s the old codger walking in,” Conal said as he inclined his head toward an eightyish man. “He’s carrying that newspaper so that she’ll recognize him. He’ll need it since in his profile he said that he’s twenty-eight instead of eighty-two.”
Kathleen shook her head in mock dismay. “Damned dyslexia. It’ll get a girl every time.”
She scanned the room, as did Lisa, though with a different intent. Lisa was pretty sure she’d spotted Kevin at one of the two window tables.
“How about the pierced and tattooed guy at the far end of the bar?” Kathleen asked.
“Nah, that’s Harley, and I’ve been saving him up for you, sis,” Conal replied.
Now sixty percent sure she’d spotted Kevin and one hundred percent sure she’d taken enough teasing from the Malloys, Lisa readied herself to move on. “I hate to disappoint you guys, but I’m meeting Kevin Decker, and I think I see him at the windows.”
Conal, who’d been quite the actor in high school, ratcheted his performance up a notch to utterly shocked. “You found Kevin on a dating service when he’s been beneath your nose all this time?”
“Come on, Conal, you know I didn’t find him on a dating service,” Lisa said.
Conal grinned. “But you’re not denying that you’re dating him? Or that you’re on one?”
“I’ll let you make up your own tale, complete with Irish embellishments, which we all know you’ll do, anyway,” Lisa said. “See you two later.”
“Enjoy,” Kathleen said in a cheery—and just a little teasing—voice.
“Take your time, lovebirds,” Conal called as Lisa headed toward Kevin. “I’ll hold the kitchen open as late as you need. Aren’t you glad to have friends in suspect places?”
“Not to mention suspect friends,” Lisa replied over her shoulder. Sure as Conal Malloy was the village’s most popular bar owner, she and Kevin would now be grist for the village gossip mill.
As Lisa neared Kevin’s table, he rose. The nondate had officially begun, and she smiled to mask her nervousness.
“You look beautiful,” he said once she’d joined him.
Thank you seemed the most appropriate answer, though she was tempted to add that he looked pretty darned good, too. Kevin always had a neat appearance, which she found surprising considering the rigorous physical nature of his job. Tonight, though, he looked smooth, perfectly dressed in nice jeans and a white shirt. Her fingers twitched with the impulse to touch his freshly shaven jaw. But touching would be even worse than looking, and she was sufficiently distracted already.
“Did you have fun up at the bar?” Kevin asked. His grin rivaled the one Conal had worn.
“I don’t suppose you considered coming over there to bail me out?” she asked.
“I considered it, but rejected it. Better that Conal grills me like one of his porterhouse steaks when you’re not around to witness my humiliation.”
“Somehow I don’t see Conal getting the better of you.”
He laughed. “Which is why I’ll wait until you’re not here for my grilling,” he said as he held out a chair for her.
Lisa couldn’t recall the last time someone had done something this chivalrous for her. In her marriage, chivalry seemed to have been left on Scotland’s rocky shore. Not that she was incapable of pulling out a chair or opening a door, but given all that she did for herself and others daily, it was nice to have someone offer to do it for her. Lisa settled in.
“So, did you work up an appetite today?” Kevin asked, then shook his head. “That’s an odd question to ask someone who bakes all day, isn’t it?”
Could