by dlady
“I’m not bailing you poor bastards out of jail,” Smooth shouted after them.
And they were gone, ignoring the chastising glare Coop cast at their backs. Good thing the guy wasn’t carrying a knife. He’d have nailed them right between the shoulder blades.
“Hey, thanks for rescuing me,” Jared said. “I’m not much for partying anymore.”
“Not a problem,” Matt said. “But I’ll hold you to that game of pool. There’s a sports bar across the street.”
Matt tossed a hundred on the table and they walked across the street flanked by several of the married guys, including Coop, Ice, Smooth, and Brick—reformed partiers, all of them. Oh, how things had changed in the past couple years.
Matt racked the balls while Smooth grabbed a high table nearby, and Brick ordered a couple pitchers of beer. Jared broke and didn’t manage to get one ball into a pocket. He leaned against the table and watched Matt systematically pick off the striped balls. The bastard was going to run the table.
The guys were chuckling and giving him shit about his pool prowess—or lack thereof.
Jared laughed. He didn’t care. He was having a decent time and not spending his last penny at a nightclub with music throbbing so loud that a guy could get a concussion just from being in the same room as the speakers.
Matt did run the table and kick his ass. Smooth stepped up and challenged Matt to the next game. Jared slid into the seat Smooth had vacated between Ice and Coop. Ice wandered away to talk on the phone, most likely to Avery.
Coop took a long pull on his beer and set it on the table. “How’s it going?”
“Okay,” Jared said.
“Right.”
Jared managed a grin, reading more into his captain’s seemingly casual remark. “Don’t worry. I’m being cautious.”
“Good.” Coop rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. “You need to listen to your heart and your head. Not fall into the wrong kind of relationship just because you’re lonely.”
Jared bit back a retort. Coop was right. He was lonely, painfully so. He’d outgrown partying and casual sex. He wanted something more. He’d had a taste of monogamy, and as sour as it’d been at the end, he missed those few good months when everything had been the picture of domestic bliss.
“I know what I want, and I won’t settle for less.”
“Sometimes what you think you want and what you need aren’t the same.”
“I did the need thing and got screwed over.” More than his buddies would ever know, from his emaciated bank account to his decimated ego. “I like being part of a couple, but I’m gun-shy.”
“Understandable.” Coop’s expression was unreadable, as usual, but something about this conversation seemed off, even though Jared couldn’t put his finger on it. The team captain rarely gave personal advice unless a guy’s behavior affected his performance on the ice. For the most part, Jared’s play remained solid, even through the worst of the divorce.
“It’s hard to find women with good intentions. I want what you have with Izzy. It’s so damn hard to find a good woman. I don’t know where to start.”
Coop nodded and almost smiled. “Have you considered a private matchmaking service where they make sure their clients’ matches are thoroughly checked out first?”
“No.” Jared snorted, finding the idea ridiculous.
“Hey, don’t be so quick to dismiss it. I’ve heard they can be pretty successful. In fact…” Coop leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Garrett Calhoun found his fiancée through there.”
“Brenda?” Jared was flabbergasted. He’d met the GM’s fiancée multiple times and admired her knowledge of hockey and her direct, honest attitude.
“Yeah, but you didn’t hear it from me. Mina recommended the service to him. It’s run by Ethan’s great-aunts.”
“Seriously?” Mina was team owner Ethan’s assistant, and older than dirt, with the demeanor of a drill sergeant. Most of the team was afraid of her, and the great-aunts owned a small piece of the team. All the guys knew them. They were odd but entertaining.
“Go figure. Think about it. Might be a good way to meet the right woman without falling prey to the wrong one again.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Jared couldn’t afford an expensive matchmaker, yet the idea did intrigue him. He’d been striking out on his own.
After watching a few episodes of a matchmaker reality show, he’d wondered how that worked. Matchmakers for celebrities and professionals probably didn’t come cheap, and the cost could be a deal breaker.
Coop pulled out his wallet and handed a slightly crumpled card to Jared. “Just so happens I have a gift certificate for their services.”
Shit. Was the guy a mind reader? “They have gift certificates for something like that?”
“Guess so.” Coop shrugged. “They specifically mentioned you when they gave it to me.”
“They did?”
Coop grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess Agnes saw you at the gala last week and was concerned about you.”
Jared would’ve crawled into a hole if one had been readily available. How many other people in his life were scheming to rectify his sad state of affairs? Thank God his mother didn’t know too many details about his personal and financial life, or there’d be no peace for him.
Jared turned the business card over in his hand. Scrawled in a shaky script were the words: Good for one forever match.
The proverbial gift horse had just been plunked in his lap. Who was he to question his good luck? He had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.
Chapter 2—Sharpening the Skates
Steph had never worked a real day job. One where you went to the office, sat at a desk, performed your tasks, and went home at a set time. In high school she’d done some volunteer work in the church office where her father was pastor, and she could type. This would be different, though. She wasn’t sure what to expect from Agnes. She doubted working for her would be as dull as it’d been at the church.
Almost a week later, on a Thursday morning, she walked the seven long blocks to Agnes’s turn-of-the-century mansion, conveniently located in the same old-money neighborhood as Steph’s studio apartment above Izzy and Cooper Black’s garage. Several large maples lined the streets, and orange and yellow leaves crunched under the sensible black flats she’d purchased yesterday at Walmart. The trees towering over her and had to be as old as the houses. What changes had these trees seen in their lifetimes? They were still here, strong and regal. They bent in the wind and grew their roots deep into the earth. They’d seen the city grow exponentially over the years. What would they say if they could talk?
It was a chilly fall day, but at least it was clear and not raining, a fact for which she was grateful, since she didn’t have a car. Riley Black, Coop’s teenage nephew, had volunteered to drive her on his way to school, but she’d graciously turned him down. She’d probably avail herself of his services once the weather turned nasty. For now, she enjoyed the walk.
She checked the addresses as she strolled past. Each house was large and stately, separated from the street by wide expanses of lawn with winding driveways. Most were barely visible through the large trees and bushes that had grown up over the past century.
Her thoughts drifted from her first day on the new job to her brief phone interview with Agnes. They’d talked easily about all sorts of things until Agnes started questioning her about her childhood. She’d answered as truthfully and briefly as possible, even though she didn’t understand what any of that had to do with this job. Steph had left a gap from high school to six months ago, hoping Agnes didn’t notice. She’d artfully dodged questions about her family in the present tense, since she no longer had a family.
There’d been a time when God and family had been all she’d needed, along with a few good friends. She’d been so naïve and sheltered in those days. Sometimes she wished she could turn back time and undo all the mistakes she’d made since her senior year. But she couldn’t.
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She’d rarely done anything that didn’t revolve around the church and church activities. Maybe that was why she’d fallen under Gino’s spell and gone from a model daughter and student to a rebellious teen who eventually ran off to seek her happily ever after. What a fool she’d been.
Steph sighed and checked the address on the brick pillar at the bottom of another winding driveway. This was the house. The large wrought iron gate was open, as if welcoming her. She walked up and halted in her tracks as the house came into view.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but definitely not this. The house belonged on a Southern plantation. She didn’t know such houses existed in Seattle. No, she corrected herself, not a house, but a mansion. A colonial three-story mansion with huge pillars on a wide front porch, veranda, or whatever those things were called, and a balcony running the length of the second story.
She’d never seen anything so stately and grand.
Steph swallowed the paralyzing fear that she might be in over her head. She forced her feet to move forward one step at a time until she was standing in front of massive oak double doors. She rang the doorbell with a shaking hand. Several seconds later, a uniformed butler answered. He was tall, thin, bald, and bespectacled. He bowed low and spoke in an English accent, no less. The man was so ancient that she feared he might not be able to straighten his spine after his low bow, but he stood easily.
“Ah, Madam Clarke, come with me, please. Agnes is waiting for you.” The fact that he called Agnes by her first name was more surprising than him calling Steph by her last.
She followed him into a two-story grand entryway, complete with a sweeping staircase to a landing above, and down a marble hall to another set of double doors. He swept them open with a flourish.
“Please wait here. Agnes will be with you soon.” He indicated an ornate antique couch with a wave of his hand.
“Thank you.” Steph stepped into the large study lined with books, many appearing ancient. The butler shut the door behind him.
The room was deadly silent except for the ticking of a massive grandfather clock. She eyed the couch, which wasn’t the least bit inviting and should be in a museum. Walking past the stuffy old furniture to the wall of windows, she gazed at a garden as grand as the inside of the house. It might be fall, but no one had told the roses blooming along the slate-lined path to a gazebo surrounded by towering cedar and madrona trees. Beyond the gardens and expansive lawn were the glittering waters of Puget Sound.
The door opened, and Steph turned, a forced smile plastered on her face. She did a double take. The senior citizen standing on the threshold wasn’t Agnes. She looked like Agnes, yet different. Very, very different. While Agnes dressed in that understated, classy manner of most wealthy older women, this woman wore a kaftan in swirling colors. Her lips were bright crimson, and her green eyes were both young and old. Her vibrant red hair stood on end, making her look like a geriatric punk rocker. Yet somehow the entire guise fit her quite well.
“Hello,” Steph said, and nervously wiped her sweaty hands on her pants.
The woman stopped several feet away, propped her hands on her hips, and looked Steph up and down. She harrumphed and sighed. “I guess you’ll do.” Turning on the heel of her shiny biker boots, she left the room.
Steph gawked at the closed door, her mouth hung open, but no words would come out. What had just happened? Before she had time to process the bizarre encounter, the door opened again, and Agnes entered, dressed in a cream knit pantsuit with matching flats. Diamonds adorned her fingers and a tasteful diamond pendant hung around her neck.
“I see you’ve met Iona. She’s my baby sister.”
“Ah, she didn’t exactly introduce herself.”
Agnes arched a perfectly penciled dark brow. “I was under the impression she liked you, and Iona doesn’t like many people.”
“She did say I’d do.”
“That’s an extreme compliment from Iona. She’s not touchy-feely like me.”
Steph almost choked but managed to keep a straight face.
“Are you ready to get started?”
“Absolutely.”
“We need background checks run on each of these women before we’ll consider them for possible client matches.”
“We?”
“Yes, Iona and I are in the matchmaking business together.”
“I see.”
Agnes shot her a knowing glance. “You probably don’t, but you will.”
Steph almost cringed. That statement sounded ominous. “Would you like me to fill out any employment forms?” She braced herself, hoping they wouldn’t require it.
“No, forms mean nothing. People of character do not need forms, and I know you are of good character.”
“Okay.”
An hour later, Steph had finished background checks on a half-dozen women and written reports on each, listing any questionable findings. She also Googled them, just to go the extra mile. One of the women had been a stripper during her college years, and Steph pointed that fact out to Agnes and Iona.
“Well, damn, and she looked to be a promising match for Mr. Klein,” Iona said.
“I told you there was something about that girl when we met her,” Agnes said.
Iona rolled her eyes. “Of course. Nevertheless, we can’t have possible dates with a mark against them other than a parking ticket.”
“Not even a parking ticket, especially unpaid ones. It shows a lack of responsibility.”
“And what does stripping show?” Steph asked in a small voice.
“Too much.” Iona chortled, and Agnes joined in.
Steph cringed and ducked her head. Heat rushed to her face. If these two women ever ran a background check on her or did any digging, she could kiss this job goodbye. She sighed and pushed that negative thought into the same place she banished all negative thoughts—the deep recesses of her brain—and hoped it stayed there.
She looked up to find Agnes watching her like a mama eagle eyeing its prey. She refused to squirm under the assessing gaze. Agnes couldn’t know, just couldn’t. Even if she did claim to be clairvoyant, usually visions weren’t specific. Or so Steph hoped. Not that she knew much about it other than watching psychics on reality TV. Whatever their powers might be, they didn’t extend to mind-reading, or she’d be fired by now. She relaxed a little, relieved her secret was safe for another day.
Steph worked until noon, after which she was dismissed for the day while her two bosses readied themselves for afternoon tea at the country club. Steph couldn’t imagine such a life of leisure. She’d be bored without something meaningful to do, but perhaps their charity work and matchmaking filled the void. They both seemed content, more so than Steph had been until lately.
She walked back to her studio apartment full of equal doses of hope and dread. Pulling her cell out of her pocket for the first time in four hours, she checked for messages.
There was a text from Vi inviting her over. The Sockeyes were on a road trip, so Vi was alone with her two little boys. Steph tapped out a response before she clomped up the stairs, unlocked her door, and went inside. The tidy, compact space included a living area, small dining nook, and a kitchen. Behind a screen was a bed and a door to a small bathroom with a tiled shower.
Steph loved this place. She felt safe here, and content for the first time in way too long. Despite being over the Blacks’ garage, the studio was private and furnished with a comfy couch and large armchairs in a cheerful floral print. A set of French doors opened onto a small deck with a view of Puget Sound through the tall cedars and madronas on the property.
Steph flopped onto the couch and ran through the past few days’ events in her mind. Her life was turning around, and she’d do everything in her power to shield herself from her past and keep those awful years where they belonged—to someone else. Not her. She wasn’t that person anymore. She’d reclaimed the Steph she’d been in high school: naïve, hopeful, and positive, with nowhere to go b
ut forward. The handful of friends who knew the truth, or the partial truth, would never betray her.
As long as she could keep her past in the past, life would be good.
But could she? Or was she foolish to believe Gino that her secrets would forever remain buried?
* * * *
After a week, Steph was getting the hang of her new job. Between the office work and the party crashing, she’d be able to save a little money for a future education. Not that she knew what she wanted to do with her future, but she would do something, and most careers required education. She wasn’t interested in a four-year degree, but maybe chef school, photography, or wedding planning. None of those choices excited her, exactly, but she’d think of something. She loved to read, but reading books didn’t pay bills. She’d loved to work in a bookstore. Then again, bookstores were closing all over because people were buying digital.
Twenty-three years old, and she was at a loss as to what she’d like to do with her life. She sighed.
Interview forms for possible matches leaned in a haphazard pile on the desk. The sisters preferred to fill the forms out on paper, and Steph typed the info into the database, which, as far as she could tell, they never looked at.
She worked all morning, losing complete track of time. Finishing the last form, she glanced at the large grandfather clock. Almost noon. She usually left by noon, but Agnes had asked to talk to her. After another half-hour of waiting, Agnes and Iona came in the door. Both were dressed for an outing, Agnes in one of her sweater suits and Iona in one of her colorful caftans.
“Steph, dearie, we have a favor to ask. We need you to stay past noon. We’ll pay time and a half.” Agnes was at her most charming, meaning she wanted something.
“That’s not necessary,” Steph replied. “It’s still under eight hours, and I’d be glad to stick around if you need me.”
“We have a client coming in this afternoon and completely forgot about him. Would you mind putting in a few extra hours doing his interview? We both have an appointment.” The two sisters shared a meaningful look. Steph might be gullible, but she also knew when something was being kept from her.