Mistletoe Matchmaker

Until now. He’d been calling a lot recently, wanting back into her life. But the walls she’d put up wouldn’t be so easily torn down. Even with God’s help, and lots of prayers, she’d struggled with this issue for quite a while.

Suddenly, onion smell overwhelmed her, and her eyes started tearing. Drawing back, she actually looked at the pile of onions on the cutting board in front of Grant.

She did a double take. Instead of pieces of onion, the cutting board was full of onion mush, speckled with brown bits.

Her jaw went slack. “You didn’t peel the onion before you chopped?” she asked, her throat burning.

He looked up, tears running down his sculpted cheeks. “No. Was I supposed to?” he asked, sniffing.

She backed away from the stinging onion aroma and nodded toward the mashed onions. “Uh…yeah. I thought you knew to take the dry, papery outer layer off.”

He set the knife down and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand before turning his watery gaze to his handiwork. “How would I know? I told you I’ve never chopped onions before.”

“Good point.” She gazed at the pile of goo that used to be an onion. “Um…you may have overchopped a bit, too.”

He considered the slush pile on the cutting board, his brow line hoisted high. “You think?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Definitely. They’re supposed to be pieces, not…mush with skin.”

He reached for the other half of the onion, his mouth curved into a wry smile. “You want me to try again? I’m game if you are, although we might end up onion-less.” His eyes lit up. “Better yet, I’ll do an internet search on how to chop onions.”

She shook her head. “No, no need to bring your computer into this. I’ll do the chopping. Spaghetti sauce just wouldn’t be right without onions.” She glanced around and saw the antique table in the dining room off the kitchen. “Why don’t you work on setting the table.”

He set the onion down. “Now, that I can do.” He picked up the knife and presented it to her with a flourish. “Your knife, Miss. Use it well.”

She played along and accepted his “gift” with an exaggerated curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Turning her attention to the onion, she chopped it on the cutting board next to the sink. She surreptitiously watched Grant rattle around the kitchen, gathering up the utensils and plates they’d need.

She couldn’t help but notice how he moved with an easy male grace she found fascinating. Yes, he’d told her he spent a lot of time at his computer. But it was clear he spent some time working out, too. He was in terrific shape…um, for a computer nerd.

Suddenly, the knife bit into her finger with a sharp sting. “Ow!” She dropped the blade and jerked her hand away, looking down at the bleeding gash on her finger.

Dizziness engulfed her; the sight of blood had always made her woozy.

Grant was at her side in a flash. “What’s wrong?”

At least she’d had the presence of mind to thrust her hand out over the sink and underneath cold water rather than bleed all over Rose’s kitchen. “I…cut my finger.” Because I was staring at you.

“Let me see,” he said, gently taking her hand.

She leaned his way for support, but squeezed her eyes shut, her teeth gritted. “I can’t look.”

“You’ve cut yourself pretty good,” he said after a few moments, his voice laced with concern. A pause. “Keep your hand over the sink, okay? It’s bleeding a lot.”

She did as she was told, biting her lip against the fiery pain. Something dry engulfed her throbbing finger.

“I’m stopping the bleeding with a clean towel,” he said.

“Okay,” she said shakily. The ground tilted and her legs sagged.

He put one arm around her and guided her to the nearest kitchen chair. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

She nodded as she sat. “Thanks. The sight of blood always gets to me.”

He hunkered down next to her, still holding her towel-wrapped hand. “How’s that?”

“Better,” she replied, relaxing back in the chair. “My dizziness is passing.”

“Good.” Looking at her swaddled hand as he rose, he said, “Let’s leave that on while I find the first-aid kit.”

“Okay,” she replied, taking a hold of the towel. “Check the linen closet in the hall. Rose keeps a lot of toiletries and stuff like that there.”

“Will do,” he said, leaving the kitchen.

While he was gone, Molly clenched her teeth at the pain in her index finger. Would she need stitches? She hoped not.

But she would need to quit staring at Grant.

A few moments later he returned, a bright orange first-aid bag in his hands. “Found it.”

The concern in his eyes gave her tummy a little flip.

He sat down in the chair opposite her and reached out to take her injured hand. “Let’s see what we have.” Gingerly, he unwrapped the blood-stained towel from her hand.

Molly kept her gaze averted, flinching at the pain zinging through her finger.

She felt him lean in. “It looks pretty superficial,” he said. “I’ll just put some antibiotic ointment on it, bandage you up, and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She peeked at her finger and her stomach heaved. She quickly turned away. “You sure it isn’t worse? It feels like I gouged it pretty good.”

He moved his chair, and himself, closer, then bent over her finger again, his gaze locked on her injury. “I’m positive. I know it hurts, but it isn’t too bad.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor Roderick,” she said in a teasing tone, trying to distract herself from the pain.

He chuckled, glancing at her, his mouth curved up at the corners. “I’m no doctor, but I did have first-aid training in college. Will that do?”

“That’ll work,” she replied, doing her best to ignore his attractive smile.

“Good.” He grabbed the ointment and gently dabbed it on her cut. Then he picked up a roll of gauze, unwound a length of the bandage material and cut it with the scissors he’d found in the kit.

As he worked to take care of her, Molly looked down at his bent head, noting his long eyelashes and sculpted cheekbones. Yes, he was one handsome guy. And caring and gentle, too.

Pulling her interested gaze away, she let him finish tending to her cut, doggedly refocusing her attention on her goal at hand—to figure him out so she could match him up with one of the many single and wonderful women in town. Maybe Phoebe…

After her finger was bandaged up tight, Molly was grateful Grant helped her finish making dinner. Clearly, he didn’t have that much experience in the kitchen, but he took direction well and did a good job for a rookie.

Soon they were seated at Rose’s antique dining room table, heaping plates of spaghetti before them.

“This looks—and smells—fantastic,” Grant said, inhaling deeply. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.” Not surprising, given how hard he was working. One more reason she needed to find him his perfect match.

“Well, then, you were smart to let me stay.” Molly took a piece of garlic bread from the cloth-covered bread basket with her good hand, then passed Grant the salad. “Eat up, there’s plenty. And we made enough so you’ll have leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes—she had to admit, she made a mean spaghetti sauce—and then the lack of conversation got to her, thanks to one too many silent, awkward meals with her dad.

Setting her fork on the edge of her plate, she regarded Grant. “So. What kind of project are you doing?”

He took a drink of water and put his glass down. “I’m writing computer code for a new client.”

“So this…code job, it’s very important?”

“Yes, very important. If I pull this project off in the ridiculously short amount of time I’ve been given, my company will secure the account for the future, and I’ll get a huge promotion and a lot of respect within the software community.”

Interesting. “Don’t you get lonely working in such isolation?”

“Actually, no,” Grant said, taking another piece of garlic bread from the basket. “I work on my time, when I want, with no distractions, no meaningless socializing.”

She scrunched up her nose. Did Grant at least allow the Lord into his tiny box of a life? She’d be lost without His guidance.

“Being with people is not meaningless,” Molly said emphatically. “I adore interacting with my customers, love helping them pick out products, forming attachments, making friends from all over the world. I’ve had customers from as far away as Hong Kong who still email me to chat.” Granted, that was just email. But still, she was connected. Involved.

He blinked several times, as if her statement was so foreign to him he couldn’t possibly understand where she was coming from. “Personally, I find a social life and business don’t mix,” he replied after a long moment.

He was making the same foolish choice as her father, the big-time corporate attorney.

“Sounds lonely,” Molly said, shaking her head. Lonely and isolated. And faithless.

“Maybe so,” Grant replied, pulling Molly back into the conversation. “But some people like my kind of lifestyle.”

Probably not his family. “Your bosses, for instance.”

He laughed. “Definitely at the top of the list. But focusing on my job works for me because my career is my number-one priority. I don’t have time for a social life, which is fine by me.”

None of this made any sense to Molly. How could he live that way, always solitary, his only companion a computer? “So, your aunt Rose told me you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Nope.”

“I guess you don’t have time, right?”

His expression closed. “Right. I gave up dating a long time ago.”

She almost blurted, “Me, too,” but she held back the words just in time. She was trying to find the perfect woman for him, not reaffirm his reasons to stay isolated with her own sob stories.

With her promise to Rose in mind, she said, “I was wondering if you’d like to go to church with me on Christmas Eve, the week after next? I’m sure you’d love the service.”

Grant froze, his fork midway to his mouth. Then he very deliberately set the utensil down. “Church isn’t really my thing,” he said evenly. Too evenly. As if he was trying to suppress something painful and had gone all blank instead.

She blinked. “Oh. Okay. No big deal.” Not a believer, then? Again, another clue to his personality. She was slowly finding out about the real man beneath the attractive exterior. Good. Yet…not.

Not surprisingly, Grant changed the subject. “So, how long have you lived in Moonlight Cove?”

“Three years. I moved here when I graduated from the University of Oregon.”

“How did you end up in this neck of the woods?”

“My family and I used to vacation here when I was little.” In fact, Moonlight Cove was the last place her family had spent any happy time before her mother died.

“Lots of good memories, I bet,” he said.

Actually, her only good memories of her childhood centered around Moonlight Cove. “Tons,” she said, bending the truth. A lot. She was ashamed to admit how limited her happy childhood memories actually were. As in almost nonexistent.

“I have good memories here, too,” he said. “I came here every summer to visit Aunt Rose when I was growing up.”

“That must have been fun.”

Again, his expression shuttered. “It was.”

He seemed uncomfortable with the conversation, so she decided not to push him on the subject and instead focused on eating. Grant seemed content to simply chow down.

A few minutes later, he set his utensils neatly on his plate and said, “Dinner was fantastic. I could get used to this kind of delicious cooking in a hurry.”

A warm glow of pride settled in Molly’s chest. It was always nice to please someone who could express himself with words, not barks. “Thanks.” And then she thought, Note to self: fix him up with someone who likes to cook.

They rose and began to clean up, and when Grant went to take the garbage out, she ran through all the information about him she’d collected today. He liked superheroes. He was reluctant to date. He appreciated home cooking. And he was a runner.

Who should she set him up with?

Of course, she’d already set her matchmaking sights on Phoebe; she might be the perfect match. If that didn’t fly, there was also Anna Stevens, who owned Moonlight Cove Bakery on Main Street. She was single, and was the best baker in town, hands down.

Then a rogue thought crashed through Molly’s mind.

On paper, another person also had a lot in common with him.

And that person was…her.

She looked heavenward.

Hello? God? Looks like I have another problem I’m going to need Your help with.

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?”