Little Matchmakers

“I can keep a secret,” Will promised her.

“Great. You don’t mind getting a little dirty, do you?”

“No. It’s okay. I like getting dirty.”

“No kidding?” Garnet shot Tucker a quick wink, but really, she hadn’t noticed him yet. She was still all about straight eye contact with Will. “I figured by midafternoon, we’d both need a break. But I wasn’t sure what you liked to snack on? So I got a couple different kinds of juice, made some fresh chocolate chip cookies …”

“I really like cookies.”

“Oh, thank heavens. I wasn’t sure.” She shot Tucker another wink, but unless he stood on his head, he doubted she was ever going to look at him directly.

The screen door to the store banged open, and out came Pete. Tucker wanted to scratch his neck. Petie had the same expression as his Will had had this morning. The Christian-entering-the-Romans’-lion’s-den look. The long-suffering look. The I’ll-do-this-but-you’ll-have-to-kill-me-to-have-fun look.

“Hey, Pete,” Tucker said.

“Hey, Mr. MacKinnon.” The kid was dressed appropriately. Sturdy shorts. Short-sleeved shirt. Running shoes. His hair looked like a cap, as if it’d been cut with a bowl, and framed his face, showed off his round glasses … and the half-dozen freckles on his nose.

“I’m glad we’re trying this trade thing,” Tucker said genially. “Your mom said you’re pretty good with numbers, organizing things.”

“Yeah. I am, sometimes.”

“I’m not sure anyone can organize me, Pete. Grown men have tried. But I sure could use some help if you’d be willing to give it a shot.”

The face looked a little brighter. Still five shades of glum, but not quite so miserable.

“Well, hop in and we’ll take off.”

Petie did … and for all of three and a half seconds, Tucker had Garnet’s attention. She came closer to the truck door, took off the straw hat. Her hair shivered and shook in the sun, finally freed from confinement, making him think that’s how it’d look when she woke up in the morning. Or after a nap.

Or right after making love.

That thought came from nowhere. Tucker punched his inner censor, smiled at her like a normal human being instead of the lovesick idiot he was turning into around her. “Not sure of this …” he murmured.

“You, too? I’m afraid we’ve invited a disaster on each other.”

“Yeah. I saw the expressions. Well … we’ll retrade around six-thirty?”

“Sounds right. I’ll bring Will earlier if there’s any problem or he wants to go home.” She lifted a hand.

He got it, she wanted to touch knuckles. They were, after all, in this project together. So he leaned forward to touch her knuckles, and again, she looked straight at him.

Just like that, it happened again. A wildfire of emotion, torching through his veins. Need, coiling like a snake. Want, whispering like silk through his witless mind.

His response was adolescent and annoying as hell.

But it was real.

If their sons would just go along with their crazy plan, he’d have chances to see her again. To be around her. To see if she ever peeled off that careful, friendly veneer for a man … or if she could be coaxed to.

Garnet was late—not for the first time—but there was no speeding on the twisty curves near the mountaintop. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally saw the hand-carved sign reading MacKinnon Breakaway.

Next to her, Will immediately piped up, “Yeah, that’s us. The house is on the right, Mrs. G.”

She pulled into the driveway and braked. The plan was to drop off Will and pick up Petie—and immediately skedaddle. Her son had to be starving. She sure was.

Still, she soaked in the view for a few moments. She had to admit she’d been curious about where Tucker lived.

“The house started out as my great-grandpa’s,” Will told her. “But my grandpa just called it the lodge. But when we moved here, my dad built cabins for all the campers and retreaters to stay. He didn’t want strangers underfoot right where he lived. That’s what he said, anyway.”

“It’s really cool,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know.” Will opened the van door and hit the ground running. She followed more slowly, still studying the sprawling log home. It wasn’t really as big as a lodge, more set up as a country place that could accommodate a big family or family gatherings. Gabled roof. Two stone chimneys. Old, majestic shade trees. A veranda on the second story, wrapping around the whole house.

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