Make Me A Match: Baby, Baby / The Matchmaker Wore Skates / Suddenly Sophie. Melinda Curtis
tell him. They were getting along so well. Civility would help her negotiate child support. But a small part of her wanted him to know—with certainty—that his leaving had hurt her. “Because the amount of points you lost when you sneaked out the door is astronomical. I just can’t trust a man like that.” But she wanted to.
She expected Coop to release her. She expected him to turn away and scoff. She didn’t expect him to pull her close, to look deep in her eyes or to press his whisker-fringed lips softly against hers.
She hadn’t expected him to poke holes in her resolve to raise Zoe alone. But he did, with one too-brief kiss.
His point deficit was erased. Its use invalidated. The point system broken.
Coop stepped back. “I don’t care about points or the past.” He spoke in a low voice, one that set aside pride to make way for truths. “I’m responsible. And I won’t run scared again. I could be responsible for—”
“Don’t say it.” Despite her words, she backed into the corner of the kitchen, waiting to hear what would next come out of his mouth.
“Stay, Nora.” His gaze was guarded. His words as solemn as a wedding vow. “Stay until you’re due back at work. Being a new mom is hard. Give me a chance to...to...spoil you a little.”
To love you a little.
That was what Nora heard him say.
But she wasn’t interested in loving a little. She’d had that with her dad.
And so she turned away.
But she didn’t turn him down.
“I HAVE AN IDEA for your questionnaire,” Coop said to Ty and Gideon the night after he’d kissed Nora.
The snow had let up but bus service had yet to resume. Nora had said nothing more about staying or going. Coop had told her the short version of his adult life, but he hadn’t confessed the matchmaking was a bet. She’d chalk that up to one more bad behavior he shared with her dad. She’d dock him points. And he needed those points to qualify as dad material.
Coop rubbed his gritty eyes and scanned the bar patrons. “Let’s ask them how they’ve been disappointed in love.”
“Let me count the ways.” Ty stared down a tall glass of ice water. “You’ll blow up Gideon’s program for real this time.”
“I agree with Ty,” Gideon said. “I can’t just ask an open-ended question. I need a check box. A short list of check boxes.”
“Why do you love Alaska?” Coach moved toward the kitchen carrying a tray of dirty glasses and empty snack bowls. “That’s easier to answer than the reasons for a broken heart. And you’ll need to type that up when you lose this bet.”
“He’s right.” Gideon sounded defeated.
“He’s not. We’re not losing.” Coop showed them his phone and an article he’d found online. “Here are ten traits of a heartbreaker.”
Ty leaned in for a closer look. “Too quick to make a connection with you. Doesn’t call back after he scores. Can’t remember your name after he buys you a drink. Doesn’t remember you when he sees you again.” Ty gave Coop an assessing look. “This could be you.”
Coop tried to brush off Ty’s conclusion. “It could be any of us.”
Ty and Gideon shook their heads.
Okay, it was most likely Coop. Self-awareness sucked.
“I can’t predict a man’s behavior,” Gideon pointed out. “And no man will admit to being a jerk.”
“I will,” Coop said, ignoring their dropping jaws. He couldn’t be the only one remorseful about the past. “Where are we with the flyers for this weekend’s ATV social?”
“I put some up at the grocery store and the Laundromat.” Gideon stared at Coop’s cell phone, sounding distracted, which Coop took to mean the wheels in his brain were starting to spin.
“Ice rink. Sporting-goods store,” Ty said. “But they aren’t working other than to bring people in to see what madness we’ll undertake next.”
Coop had no idea what madness they’d do next.
“We’ve had about nine people sign up. Mostly guys,” Gideon lamented. “For this to work, we need bachelorettes.”
Coach came out of the kitchen and stopped in front of them. “I used to enjoy running this place with no one but my cousin Rafe and me. If you’re going to consider this your home base, you need to help out.” He handed Ty a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of disinfectant. “Table four needs a wipe down.”
“Why don’t you hire someone?” The way Ty’s chin was jutting, Coop bet Ty had more to say. He used to trash-talk with the best of them, but the former goalie was being civil.
“Because in three weeks you’ll lose the bet and business will return to slow and steady. You and half the male population in this town will still be single.”
“You might be surprised,” Ty said tightly.
“Highly unlikely.” Coach laughed and returned to the kitchen, but his lack of faith in them hovered overhead like a black rain cloud above Sky Hawk Mountain.
“I’d love to prove him wrong.” Gideon wasn’t one to start a fight. With a scowl and a determined edge to his tone, he certainly sounded ready to finish one.
As did Ty. “And then I’d love the three of us to take over one of his teams.” He pounded a fist on the bar, but he might as well have been pounding his chest. “I’ll make them winners. Gideon will make them solvent.”
“Yep,” Gideon said.
“And Coop will create a plan to sell more tickets than any other professional farm team.” Ty’s fist hit the bar one more time.
Nadine walked by wearing a hot pink sweater, which reminded Coop of Zoe, of Nora, of Pop and what he’d be missing if he left Alaska.
“Together. Right?” Ty slapped Gideon and Coop on the back.
“Right,” Coop said with false enthusiasm.
* * *
“BRAD, WHAT EVER happened to your Mrs. Hamilton?” Nora was settled in the corner of Coop’s couch, a sleeping Zoe snuggled in her arms.
Coop’s father muted the big screen, looking as if he’d smelled one of Zoe’s poopy diapers. “Kathy decided I wasn’t the man for her. Then she decided Alaska wasn’t the place for her. And then she decided being a mother wasn’t the role for her.” There was a coldness in his words that rivaled the below-freezing temperature outside. “I could have forgiven her everything but the last.”
Nora brought Zoe a little closer. Poor Coop. “How old was he?”
“Nine.” The older man cleared his throat. “He’d always been the outgoing, trusting type, but that...that changed him. He was only outgoing after that. Other than Gideon and Ty, he didn’t let people get close.”
“No one?”
“No one.”
And yet he’d asked Nora to stay.
Because of Zoe. It had to be because of Zoe.
But there was that kiss...
The volume on the television went back up. Zoe blew a gentle bubble in her sleep.
And Nora couldn’t stop thinking about a little boy with a broken heart and an infectious smile.
* * *
THE CROWD OF singles for the ATV social was promising: