Читать книгу Mistletoe Matchmaker - Lissa Manley, Lissa Manley - Страница 11

Chapter Three

The next day, Grant glowered at the naughty dog sitting in front of his desk. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Jade had spent the morning alternating between barking at the squirrels in the backyard from the window, dropping her gross tennis ball in his lap and asking to go out every ten minutes, which not only distracted him, but required that he wipe her muddy paws off every time she came in.

She lifted her furry face. There it was, that dog smile she kept giving him. It was as if she could actually understand him.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. Yeah, right, Roderick. Maybe his killer work schedule had fried his brain. She was just a dog, albeit a very, very smart one.

He had to get some peace and quiet, or he’d never make his deadline.

Before he could figure out how to accomplish the seemingly impossible goal, his cell phone rang.

Grant pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the display. Dad. He and his dad were close, and Grant always looked forward to their three-times-a-week conversations.

Grant pushed the answer button. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “How are you?”

A pause. “I’m fine. And you?”

Grant’s stomach clenched. Dad wasn’t fine at all, and hadn’t been since Grant’s mother had died after a long, agonizing battle with breast cancer a year ago. Neither he nor his dad had really come to terms with losing Naomi Roderick.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Grant asked, wishing he lived closer to his dad in Portland. He might have cut romantic relationships from his life in favor of work, but he was still really close to Dad.

“Ah, well, I’m just…a little lonely, that’s all.”

The softly spoken words shredded Grant’s heart. His dad wasn’t recovering well from his wife’s death, and Grant wondered if he ever would. The once vibrant man had shriveled inside, and it seemed only a shell was left.

“You said you were going to look into volunteering somewhere,” Grant said, trying to sound as upbeat as he could. “How’s that going?”

“Oh, nothing really appeals to me,” his dad said, his voice subdued. Hollow. “I’d rather stay home.”

Grant sighed. “Have you gone to church lately?” At one time, his dad had found solace in the church.

“Nah, not yet.” A long silence. “It just wouldn’t be the same without your mother.”

Grant’s eyes burned. His dad was right. How could Grant ask him to look to God for comfort when Grant himself couldn’t do it? “I know, Dad.” Nothing had been the same since his mom had died. She’d been the heart of the Roderick family.

A wave of fresh grief washed over Grant. He slammed it down.

“Maybe I’ll go next week,” his dad mumbled.

“That sounds like a plan.”

Grant decided to drop the subject and avoid the pain for both himself and his dad for now. Anything more was beyond him. “Listen, as soon as I’m done with this project, I’ll come down for the weekend. Maybe we can go fishing.”

“Okay, that’d be great,” his dad said, but Grant could tell his heart wasn’t in his words.

They talked about a few other mundane subjects, then said goodbye and hung up. Grant sat for a few moments, concern for his dad oozing through him. They shared their grief, but Grant didn’t know how to deal with his own, much less his dad’s. He was at a total loss as to how to help. And with Christmas coming up, things would only get worse.

His mom had loved Christmas. Which was why he hadn’t accepted Molly’s invitation to go to church. He just couldn’t face a Christmas Eve service without his mom.

Jade barked at the window—the squirrels in the yard driving her bonkers again—jerking Grant’s thoughts back to the problem at hand. Aside from putting a muzzle on the dog, how was he going to get the uninterrupted quiet he needed?

He glanced outside, noting that it was cloudy and windy, but not raining. Maybe Jade needed a long walk to take the edge off her canine crazies. They could stop by Molly’s store and buy a new toy or two to distract Jade for the rest of the day. Sounded like a plan.

He hoped for Jade’s sake his strategy worked.

If it didn’t, it might mean a reservation at the local kennel. For the dog, of course.

Saying a fervent prayer under her breath, Molly let out a long-suffering sigh, her hands stiff on the computer keyboard. Why in the world hadn’t she taken more computer classes in college?

She’d spent the last two hours holed up in the back room of the store, trying to retrieve some tax files from her hard drive for the IRS audit scheduled for the day after tomorrow.

Two tear-her-hair-out hours with nothing to show but a fizzled brain, a throbbing headache and a sudden, burning desire to heave her computer through the window. Not to mention typing was tricky—and slow—with a bandaged finger.

She looked through the list of virtual folders again, including the one named TAX FILES. Nothing. The files were gone.

She shot to her feet and began to pace, rubbing her temple. What in the world was she going to do? The audit was in less than two days’ time. She was a total computer idiot. She’d looked in every nook and cranny of her computer to no avail. And, unfortunately, she hadn’t backed up her data.

This problem could spell disaster 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.”

He looked at Phoebe, seemingly for confirmation.

“She thinks I should be dating,” Phoebe said matter-of-factly, a brow quirked.

His gaze came back to Molly, then narrowed. “When were you going to clue me in?” he asked, his voice edged in steel.

She squirmed. Oh, boy. Why did she feel so…guilty? She’d had only good intentions. But maybe a man who didn’t date wouldn’t see things her way. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

“Soon,” she said in a placating tone. She continued on, feeling the need to explain why she hadn’t told him about her plan. “But I’ve found I can make better matches if the people I’m matching don’t know exactly what I’m doing right away.”

Grant frowned, then looked at the floor, shaking his head.

Molly’s bravado faltered. She liked his smile and direct gaze better than his obvious disconcertion. A lot better.

Phoebe stepped forward and piped in. “Actually, that’s true. She gets what she calls ‘love hunches’ and usually finds ways to get people together pretty much out of nowhere.”

“Love hunches?” Grant’s brow knitted. “Care to explain?”

At least he was interested in her romantic intuition, rather than simply scoffing and writing her talent off as ridiculous right off the bat. “Certainly. Since I moved here, I’ve discovered that I have the ability to…know who would be a good love match for whom.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How do you know this?”

“It’s hard to explain.…”

“Try,” he said levelly.

His serious tone took her aback. She nodded, wanting to salvage what she could of her pride. “My love hunches are just a…feeling I get every so often.”

He paused, seemingly to mull over what she’d said. Finally, he said, “Someone besides me can’t possibly know what I’m feeling at any given time.” He looked away, then swung his gaze back to Molly. “Don’t you tell people when you’re working away behind their backs, figuring all of this out?”

Molly swallowed. “See, the thing is, I can get a better idea of a person’s personality if they’re—”

“Clueless?” Grant said, cocking that brow again.

“Well…yes.” Sounded worse than it was. “Once someone knows I’m trying to figure them out, they clam up and act funny. The other person will only see what I see if both act naturally. Like their true selves.”

He paused again, obviously digesting what she’d said.

Molly glanced at Phoebe, grimacing speculatively as if to ask whether he was going to twirl his finger next to his temple to show how loony he thought she was.

With a lift of her slim shoulders, Phoebe grimaced back as if to say she had no earthly idea what he was going to do.

Molly held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t dismiss her as a kook.

She didn’t want him to think badly of her; she needed his help with her computer problem. Yes. Exactly. Alienating him now would be a mistake.

Finally, he spoke. “Was my aunt in on this?”

“Kind of,” Molly replied. “She asked me to be sure you got out some while you were here. To me, that means fixing you up.” True enough. “And really, most young, unattached guys would jump at the chance to meet nice, eligible women.”