Читать книгу Make Me A Match - Cari Lynn Webb - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

“HOME SWEET HOME.” Coop opened the door for Nora and stepped aside.

Nora had been giving Coop points for a nice truck. No rust-eaten side panels. No dented fenders. No crumpled fast-food wrappers. And he’d driven competently on the snowy roads and through the storm.

But the house...

A dark and dated mobile home. Subtract ten points.

Duct tape across the foyer carpet and on the transition to kitchen linoleum. Subtract twenty points.

The shabby, sagging furniture and dreary lighting, the bigger-than-big-screen television, the mess of boots and shoes by the door, the stack of empty soda cans next to the sink. Subtract forty points.

Her backpack dropped to the ground. If Coop lived like this, how could he afford child support?

“That you, Cooper?” A scratchy, sleepy male voice erupted from the back at loudspeaker volume.

Zoe startled, jerking against Nora’s torso beneath her parka. Nora slid the zipper down, preparing to get settled in. What choice did she have but to stay?

“Yeah, Pop. I brought home a guest,” Coop shouted. He shoved a workout bag beneath a storage bench, nudged a jumble of shoes and boots against the wall, hung up his jacket and another that was on the carpet. “My dad moved in a couple years ago. He couldn’t live alone after the accident.”

The floor creaked in a back room. Coop’s father appeared in the hallway, leaning heavily on a cane with a hand that had no fingers.

Nora gave Coop all his dark-mobile-home, worn-living-room and bad-housekeeping points back.

The older Mr. Hamilton had short, peppery hair and the spotted, leathery complexion of a fisherman. His steps were stilted—he walked with his gaze on the carpet in front of his feet—and he spoke like a ringmaster whose microphone had died. “If it’s Gideon, I didn’t get the dishes done today and the week’s recycling is still on the counter. Got busy watching my shows and—”

“Pop—Brad, this is Nora,” Coop said at baby-waking volume. He stopped cleaning. Stopped moving. Stopped looking like a man who made the world go around with his smile. He looked like a boy about to tell his father he’d been in a playground fight and broken his best friend’s nose. “She’s, um...”

Nora tried to shrug out of her parka so she could remove a stirring Zoe from the baby carrier. Coop helped her get free, allowing Nora to slide the carrier straps to her elbows and cradle Zoe.

“Well, I’ll be,” the older man said as he slowly worked his way to her. He laid the hand with a complete set of fingers on Zoe’s head. “She’s got the Hamilton nose.” His sharp green gaze turned on Coop. “Haven’t seen these two in K-Bay before.”

“Me, either.” Coop managed to sound both rebellious and repentant at the same time.

Nora resented them talking about her as if she wasn’t standing there holding the next generation of Hamilton genes. “I’m from Anchorage.”

“Forgiving my son and movin’ here, I hope.” Brad smiled, making Nora realize where Coop had gotten his forgive-me-any-sin smile. For some reason on the older man it didn’t seem so slick. “Family should stick together. It’s hard to raise a child on your own. I should know.” He moved with a hitching gait toward a recliner.

“Paternity hasn’t been proved.” Coop cinched the bag of kitchen trash and tossed it out a side door.

“Have you seen this baby’s nose?” Brad waved his arms, sending the chair rocking.

Nora gave Coop twenty bonus points for having a decent dad. But she had to be firm about things. “It’s his, but I’m not moving here.” She had a life in Anchorage: a secretarial job at a high school, benefits, brothers, friends.

“It’s too early to say that. Newborns are easy. Wait until she’s two.” Brad sat in a grubby tan recliner with a breath-stealing, free-fall backward style. “Prepare the extra room, Cooper.”

Coop had already disappeared down the hallway.

“Sit, Nora, and tell me all about my grandchild.” Brad spoke so loud that Nora suspected he was hearing impaired.

She took a seat on the couch near him, placing the carrier next to her, and said in a loud voice, “This is Zoe. She’s five weeks old.”

“Wait a second.” Brad held up his fingerless hand and bellowed, “Cooper?”

“Yeah?”

“I had a phone call earlier. What’s this nonsense I hear about you being a matchmaker?”

Coop? A matchmaker? Shades of her father.

“It’s not nonsense, Pop.”

“What you know about love could be written on a postage stamp.” Brad turned to Nora, his expression apologetic. “Best you know the truth, missy.”

“Preaching to the choir,” she murmured.

Zoe blew out a frustrated breath, perhaps sticking up for her father but more likely demanding Nora’s attention since her little arms waved with rock-concert fervor.

“I’m not as clueless about love as you think.” Coop appeared in the hallway, arms loaded with folded sheets and bed pillows. “I know you and Suzy Adams have a thing for each other.”

“That’s not a thing.” Brad wrestled with the recliner’s footrest handle, moving nothing. “It’s a weekly lunch and occasional movie.”

Coop cocked one dark eyebrow. “Do you pay?”

“What kind of a man do you think I am?” Brad let go of the handle long enough to shake his fist at the heavens. “Of course I pay.”

“It’s a thing.” Coop went into the other room.

“It’s not a thing,” Brad shouted louder than usual, finally moving the footrest out.

“It kind of sounds like a thing,” Nora said apologetically.

Zoe made excited puffing noises of agreement.

“I can’t have a thing. Just look at me.” Granted, Brad was reclining, but he looked fine to her. He looked more than fine when he pulled out that Hamilton smile. No wonder he and Suzy Adams had a thing.

The heater kicked on with a house-shaking, window-rattling thud, reminding Nora of her father’s run-down home and that, no matter how charismatic the Hamiltons were, this was no place for her baby.

* * *

“WE NEED A game plan,” Ty said to Coop and Gideon the next morning at the Bar & Grill.

Coach was open for Saturday breakfast to the citizens venturing out in the inclement weather. The blizzard had abated to heavy snowfall and the town’s sole plow had been busy since the early morning. Many people in K-Bay regarded snowstorms as no more than an annoyance in their otherwise regular routine. Businesses that were open—including matchmaking—were going to get customers.

Coop and Gideon had wisely waited for Ty to finish his first cup of coffee before beginning the matchmaking strategy session. But that left Coop thinking about Nora and her baby.

Nora, who’d gotten more attractive since he’d last seen her, was nice to Pop and watched over that baby like a mama polar bear over its cub. She’d made a face when he’d first brought her home, but she hadn’t complained or put down the place. Still, Nora hadn’t said a word about what she wanted from him other than a reference to money. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be looking for a wedding ring. Because marriage didn’t fit with Coop’s lifestyle; the one that made it easy for him to pick up and leave.

Just last year, Becky Riney had turned up pregnant and demanded Wally Spitacker marry her, even though they’d never been serious about each other beyond being friends with benefits. That marriage lasted about two seconds and cost Wally a used minivan sold to him by Coop, a couple grand for the wedding reception and a couple grand in legal fees. Until Coop was 100 percent certain it was his kid, he didn’t want to talk child support or his visitation or...well...anything.

“I think we should ask people questions about what they want in a mate.” Gideon tugged the buttoned collar of his polo shirt down as if he missed his uptight banker’s tie.

“Can we not use the word mate?” Coop said, thinking of Nora.

“Significant other? Person of interest?” Gideon sounded testy and looked as if he hadn’t slept well.

Coop couldn’t cast stones. He hadn’t slept well, either. Was he finally getting out of town? Or was this chance going to slip through his fingers?

“We need six matches.” Ty’s eyebrows had a grim slant. “Six, not three. For the life of me, I can’t come up with a plan.”

“Your plans weren’t always good ones.” Coop referred to choices Ty had made at eighteen that had scarred him for life. “When I want to get a sales boost at the car lot, I park the flashiest, most expensive car right next to the street. Doesn’t matter if they don’t buy it. Chances are if they come to look, I can get them to buy what they need. And the flashiest woman in town is—”

“Tatiana.” A slow grin appeared in the depths of Ty’s beard.

Tatiana Michaels was just back from college and in training to be the town queen bee. Men either ran to please her with the knowledge she’d chew them up and spit them out, or they ran from her because they valued their wallets and their pride. Either way, she was the flashiest, most notorious single woman in K-Bay.

Coach slid three plates loaded with campfire scramble specials in front of them. “Tatiana isn’t going to ring that bell.” The bar owner called out a greeting to Derrick before disappearing into the kitchen once more.

“Coach is right.” Gideon peppered his food. “Isn’t using Tatiana bait and switch?”

“If Tatiana agrees to sign up for matchmaking, who’s to say one of our male clients wouldn’t be the perfect match for her?” Coop really needed to believe his own sales pitch. “Once we let it be known Tatiana signed up, men and women will come to us in droves.”

“K-Bay doesn’t have droves of singles.” Ty set down his egg-loaded fork, back to looking grim. “At least not singles I’d consider eligible.”

“Work with me here.” Coop needed his friends to jump on board. Granted, Ty had more of a reputation at stake than Coop or Gideon, but they needed to choose a direction and go for it, not snipe at each other. “Once they sign up, Gideon can give them his love survey.”

“I wouldn’t call it a love survey,” Gideon mumbled. “Or even a survey at this point.”

“Regardless—” Coop shot them with a look that had sent many a new hire racing out to sell a car “—we need to make a list of all the singles in town and get them down here. Now. Today, while nothing else is going on.”

“Does Mary Jo count as single?” Ty nodded toward the door where the bus driver was entering. “Her divorce isn’t final.”

“Put her on the list.” They needed all the single and nearly single females they could recruit. “How soon can you print up a survey, Gideon?”

“I need to do a little research.” Gideon reached down and produced a stack of magazines from his computer bag. “These seem like a good place to start.” He dropped them on the bar. “But if Nadine at the grocery store gives me any more grief about buying them, I’m going to say I was shopping for you two.”

“I hope you told her what we’re doing. She’s single.” Ty picked up the magazine on top. His grimness disappeared behind a wide grin. “Five Things He Wants You to Do in the Bedroom. Are you sure this is the right research material?”

“I’ll work on it.” Gideon swiped the magazine back.

“I have complete faith in your vision and geekiness.” Ty’s grin gave Coop hope. Short-lived as it was, because Ty excelled at poking holes in a plan. “Let’s just assume we have a list of singles interested in finding The One and a survey that helps us match them to potential soul mates. How do we get our clients to realize they’ve found true love in the same dating pool they’ve had available for years? I mean, they have only three weeks to fall in love and ring the bell.”

“Impossible.” Coach cheerfully refilled their coffee mugs. “You boys are going to lose.”

The three fell silent. Gideon pushed eggs around his plate. Ty sought answers in his coffee mug.

Coop clutched his fork, refusing to go down without a fight. Matchmaking couldn’t be harder than selling cars. With the right vehicle inventory, he could sell anything to... “We’ll draw from the neighboring towns and the university.” People drove for miles to find the vehicle they wanted. Why wouldn’t they drive miles for true love? “And then we’ll have the dates take each other for a test-drive.”

Ty nearly choked on his coffee. “We’re not running an escort service.”

“I don’t mean that kind of test-drive. I mean forcing them to spend time together.” That didn’t sound romantic at all. Coop squished his eggs into a chunk of potato.

The bar was slowly filling up.

“People lead busy lives,” Gideon said. “Arranging these dates could take more time than we have. Unless...”

Ty and Coop turned to their friend expectantly. Being buddies since elementary school meant they knew better than to interrupt Gideon’s thought process.

“We organize group activities. Preplanned. Pair people up in advance.” Gideon had a gleam in his eyes that indicated he was on to gold. “Activities like a... I don’t know. A boat trip?”

“It’s dead of winter,” Ty said before Coop could.

“Hiking? The views from the mountains are romantic.” Gideon’s cheeks colored slightly. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Again, dead of winter.” Ty, Mr. Glass Half Empty.

“A test-drive...” Gideon’s gaze turned distant. “Of course! An ATV excursion. Who doesn’t love riding through the mountains on an ATV?”

Tatiana came to mind. But someone on the team had to be positive or they might just as well start listing reasons why they loved Alaska. “Awesome idea, Gideon. We could come to the bar afterward for—”

“If you say karaoke, I’ll slug you.” Ty pushed his plate away, scowling.

“A mixer.” Coop gave Ty’s shoulder an encouraging shake, hoping to get rid of some of his own doubts. “You said you wanted a plan. Now we have one.” When Ty’s scowl didn’t lessen, he added, “We’ve always said we can do anything together.”

“Coop’s right.” Gideon raised his coffee cup for a group toast. “Here’s to our sunny, snowless future in the Lower 48.”

Coop raised his mug. “What do you say? Are you in, Ty?” They’d be sunk without him.

“This is crazy.” Ty blew out a breath. “Okay, I’ll try not to let you down.”

They clinked mugs.

“We’re all in.” Coop took a sip of strong black coffee, feeling more confident than he had since they’d made the bet. “Now, about that list of singles...”

* * *

“I’M RALLYING THE TROOPS!” Pop entered the Bar & Grill with an unsteady shuffle, a gust of wind and Nora. “Since the snow’s not letting up, I decided it’d be easier to create a baby command center here.”

“Pop.” Coop made a turn-down-the-volume gesture with both hands. “What is a baby command center?” And why did Nora show up every time Coop felt as if his dreams were within reach?

“The storm ain’t moving. And my grandchild needs things.” Pop tottered to a booth and claimed it with his usual fast, plunk-his-butt-down MO.

Almost immediately the door to the bar opened and married women began streaming in as if it was Black Friday at the mercantile. The invasion silenced the bar’s regulars. They brought clothes for Nora and the baby, bassinets and car seats, curiosity and advice. Lots and lots of advice, which quickly turned to stories that made Coop’s stomach turn.

“My baby had the worst colic,” one woman said. “He screamed so loud the neighbors thought we were torturing him.”

“Talk about screams.” Another built upon the building drama. “My Frank had an impacted tooth. Ruptured his gums like a seam ripping on my husband’s pants. I thought he’d bleed out before we made it to the doctor.”

Nora’s smile looked strained. And who could blame her? This was just like the time Coop hired Bobby Evans to help him sell cars. Bobby knew a lot about cars and engines and manufacturer reliability records. He knew nothing about when to shut up. The only car Bobby had sold in his four-week tenure was to his mother.

The tension in Nora’s expression, combined with the way she held the baby protectively to her chest, unleashed boundary-making, protective instincts Coop didn’t know he had.

He crossed the bar and began negotiating a path through the crowd of perfumed women in parkas. They barely budged. At this rate he’d reach Nora by Valentine’s Day.

There was nothing like a baby to attract a lot of women. It was like flies being drawn to honey. “Ladies, please step back. I’m a man who needs to see a baby.” He very carefully didn’t claim Nora’s child as his own.

Worked like a charm. The crowd melted away like room-temperature butter for a hot knife. The women oohed and aahed and patted Coop’s shoulder as if he’d done something truly wonderful.

Kind of made him feel like a cad.

“Cooper wants to hold his baby.” Mrs. Begay topped her statement with a romantic sigh. She’d bought a SUV from him last summer and, on his advice, had special ordered the expensive snow tires that had no doubt carried her here.

Mrs. Harrison, who’d never bought a car from Coop, was a grandmother of five and had been his third-grade teacher. She moved slowly out of his way, watching him from behind cat-eye glasses as if he was still a troublemaking third-grader. “About time someone caught you doing something naughty.”

Feeling kindly, Coop said, “You were right, Mrs. H. I was the one who replaced your glue with mayonnaise.”

That brought a smile to her plump cheeks. “I knew it! Do you know? No little boy has caused as much mischief in my classroom as you did.”

“I take that as a compliment.” And he expected her next car purchase to be from him.

Mrs. Tsosie, who ran the local newspaper almost single-handedly and had purchased her last truck from Coop, produced a serious-looking black camera with a lens the size of a bourbon bottle. “I want a picture of this reformed bachelor holding his baby.”

Reformed? That meant he’d be stuck in Kenkamken Bay forever.

“Oh, no.” Coop’s laughter sounded as hollow as his forgotten dreams. “We’re not taking out a mortgage or anything.”

In the booth, Pop frowned. Across from him, Nora rolled her eyes. Someone in the back of the group said, “I told you so.”

Coop clung to his smile and his bachelor’s shallow pride.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Tsosie said. “Now that you’re a dad, we’ll be seeing more of you in church and less of you in the bar.”

Coach’s laughter penetrated the crowd, penetrated Coop’s car-salesman-thick skin, penetrated his normally unshakable smile. Coop resented the implication that his whole way of life would change with fatherhood, resented it with patience-snapping intensity.

But before he could say fatherhood wouldn’t change him, Mrs. Tsosie said, “Go on. Hold your daughter.”

Your daughter.

A small tremor passed through Coop’s biceps and headed toward his hands. Probably, he’d lifted weights too hard yesterday morning. There was no way that tremor and the one that started in his quads and moved behind his knees had anything to do with nerves about trying something new. Coop was always the first one to jump off a bridge on a bungee cord or to test-drive a new vehicle in bad weather.

And yet...the baby in Nora’s arms waved a tiny fist. It was the first time he’d seen the baby move.

Coop’s step faltered. He grabbed on to Mary Jo’s shoulder.

The almost divorced mother of two met his gaze with weary brown eyes. “You’ll be fine.”

Coop’s gaze moved to Nora’s. Her soft blue eyes were also dark rimmed, but there was something else in her gaze, something that caused Coop’s hand to drop and his feet to move forward. That gaze said, “Stay away from me. From us.”

Who was she to keep him away? Kids needed parents. If the baby was his...

Regret did a gut-stomping two-step with defeat, dancing right over his big plans.

Coop took a deep breath, trying to slow the dance, trying to keep the dream alive, trying to shut up the annoying, upstanding side of his character that whispered about accepting responsibility for his actions. Finally, he reached the booth where Pop and Nora sat. “I want to hold her.”

There was reluctance in Nora’s eyes. He hadn’t asked to hold the baby at all yesterday and now she didn’t trust him. That look. She’d almost shot him down with it the night they’d met. She’d been hard to get—no playing. She’d made him work at winning her over, claiming at first that she only wanted to share some laughs and dance. But the more they’d laughed and danced, the more Coop had wanted. More conversations, more kisses, more Nora.

“Sit.” She nodded toward the bench beside her. “If you must.”

He sat, feeling weak and light-headed once more. Had to be the press of bodies and the four-inch-wide camera lens aimed his way. “I’ve never held a baby before.”

“I’m beginning to think I raised you wrong,” Pop announced loudly, as if Coop sat at the bar and not four feet away. “Playing the field all the time and not even knowing how to care for one of your own.”

“Pop, please shut up.”

Nora’s cheeks were as pink as the baby’s blanket. “It’s easy. Bend your arms as though I’m handing you a football. Hold them a little higher than your breadbasket.” Nora jiggled the baby so he could see how to position his arms. Her instructions were softly spoken, but her eyes... Her eyes warned of dire consequences if he dropped the ball—er, baby.

Mrs. Tsosie snapped a picture.

Coop held out his arms. “Football metaphors?”

“Two older brothers.” Nora slipped the small pink bundle into his arms. “I could switch to truck engines or hockey if you prefer. I also throw a mean knuckleball.”

Well, what do you know? Despite how she’d filled out her dress when they’d first met, Nora was grow-on-you gorgeous and a tomboy.

Coop couldn’t seem to look away from her pert nose, her delicate mouth or her painfully truthful eyes. They were as blue as an Alaskan summer sky. Despite her tomboy declaration, she wore jeans and a yellow blouse that had style. She wasn’t intimidating in her femininity, like Tatiana. She was approachable, like the girl you asked to help you with algebra homework.

The proverbial football he held squirmed and waved a tiny fist toward his chin, demanding he give her some attention. The baby’s tiny head rested in the crook of his elbow. Her body fit the length of his forearm, the pink blanket soft against his skin. Everything about her seemed like a perfect miniature of her mother. She opened dark blue eyes over a now familiar-looking nose and stared up at him, huffing and waving her fist once more.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he whispered in a voice that was suddenly husky.

The women oohed and aahed again. Mrs. Tsosie snapped more pictures.

When he made eye contact with her, Zoe wiggled and blew spit bubbles.

“Show off.” Coop felt something in his chest shift. He was used to women wanting his attention. What Coop wasn’t used to was the feeling that this woman, this small female, was his. His to love by right. His to love by responsibility. His to love because she was so flippin’ adorable.

“Dang, women,” Pop said in his nearly shouting voice from the other side of the booth. “Give the man some space.” He shooed them away.

Coop didn’t see where his audience went. He only had eyes for the baby in his arms. His baby. He stroked her velvety cheek with the back of one finger and then traced the familiar Hamilton nose.

Zoe wrapped her tiny digits around his knuckle, blew out an I-wish-I-could-roll-my-eyes-at-you breath and squeezed.

Coop felt a corresponding pressure in his chest. In his heart. In the twisted strand of DNA that had passed on the good-parent gene from Pop. He had no idea what his daughter wanted, but whatever it was, he planned on giving it to her. “You don’t need to pay for a paternity test. She’s mine.”

Nora reached for Zoe but Coop held her off with one hand.

Nora gathered herself, as if preparing for a score-stopping tackle. But when she spoke, her voice lacked its usual strength. “Don’t get used to this. We’re leaving as soon as bus service resumes. And then we’re done.”

Bachelor Coop... Car salesman Coop... Those parts of him felt relief.

But there was a new Coop in town. And that Coop felt a breath-stealing depression at the thought of never seeing Zoe again.