Make Me A Match. Cari Lynn Webb
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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,