The Matchmaker's Mistletoe Mission (Boots and Bouquets novella)

by Jaci Burton

  They stepped into a dining room that by Alice’s standards was enormous. There was a long wood table that could accommodate at least twenty, and several people were already seated, including a woman who Alice could tell had to be Erin and Honor’s mother. She had dark wavy red hair pulled up by a clip and stunning green eyes.

  “Mom, this is Alice Weatherford,” Honor said. “She’s maid of honor for the Tigen/Friday wedding next Saturday. She’s Lainie Tigen’s best friend. Alice, this is our mother, Maureen Bellini.”

  Maureen clasped both her hands over Alice’s and smiled the warmest smile Alice had ever been graced with.

  “Alice, we’re so happy to welcome you to Red Moss Vineyards.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bellini.”

  “Please. Call me Maureen. I’m glad you’re here for lunch. I’m sorry you arrived when we’re having an uncharacteristically vicious snowstorm.”

  “Fortunately, I got here before the snow started coming down too hard.”

  “Well, it’s snowing even more now, so at least you’re safe here.”

  She smiled at Maureen. “Thank you for that.”

  A big, burly guy came in and put his arm around Maureen. He had dark hair, graying at the temples.

  “This is my husband, Johnny,” Maureen said. “Johnny, this is Alice Weatherford. Her best friend is getting married here next weekend.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Miss Weatherford. We’re happy to have you at the Bellini home.”

  She instantly liked Mr. Bellini. He had a kind smile and polite demeanor. He held out the chair for his wife and pressed his hand on her shoulder. When Maureen smiled up at him, Alice could immediately feel the affection between the two of them.

  “Sorry I’m late—I was on the phone.” A gorgeous redhead came into the room and slid into one of the chairs. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Alice, this is our other sister, Brenna,” Honor said. Honor told Brenna who Alice was.

  “Oh, great to meet you, Alice. Glad you made it before the snowstorm got out of hand.”

  “Thanks.” From what she was hearing, this snowfall was going to get bad. She tried to keep her spirits up, but she was beginning to think getting back to Oklahoma City was going to be hazardous.

  Several other people came in and Honor introduced them as a few of the employees who worked at the vineyard. Then lunch was served, and Alice was shocked to discover there was a working kitchen staff as well.

  Wow. Red Moss Vineyards was a big deal.

  “Louise and her husband, Marcus, have been here for over twenty-five years,” Honor said. “Mom and Dad hired them on when they bought the vineyard, and they have their own house on the property.”

  Louise looked to be in her early fifties, of medium height with short brown hair and peaches-and-cream skin. She was dressed in dark brown pants and a white top and wore a cardigan, and if Alice didn’t see her serving the meal she would have thought she was one of the houseguests. Louise passed out the soup and smiled at Maureen. “We’re like family.”

  “Indeed we are. I don’t know what we would do without Louise and Marcus here to help us.”

  “What Mom is trying to say is that she’s a terrible cook,” Brenna said. “And without Louise here, we’d have all starved.”

  “Brenna.” It wasn’t Maureen admonishing Brenna—it was Louise.

  Maureen laughed. “So true. My head was always in the books, and not in the kitchen.”

  “That’s why you have me,” Louise said.

  “A man can only eat so many plates of burned lasagna,” Johnny said, offering up a rueful smile to his wife.

  “You were a champion about that,” Maureen said.

  She heard the front door open and close and felt the cold chill of air all the way down the hall. The sound of boots making their way toward them intrigued her. A man’s tall, wide frame filled the doorway, and for a moment, Alice forgot to breathe.

  He was magnificent standing there in a heavy long coat, a cowboy hat tipped low on his face showing off just a hint of beard stubble on his magnificent jaw. He looked straight out of an old Western movie, all the way down to his snow-covered boots.

  He pulled off the hat, revealing a full head of thick, dark blond hair, and his eyes were a mesmerizing whiskey brown.

  Alice wasn’t one to be taken in by a handsome man, but this one? Wow.

  “It’s really coming down out there,” he said. “I was going to head to my place, but I can barely see. Plus, I rode over here on Mickey, and I was worried about trying to ride home in this weather. I hope you don’t mind, but I stowed Mickey in your barn and thought I’d say hello.”

  “I’m glad you decided to stop here,” Johnny said. “Take your coat off and stay for lunch, Clay. We’ll see how the weather plays out.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  He half turned, but then his gaze caught Alice’s and he offered up a smile.

  All of her parts suddenly woke up from their cold winter freeze.

  Who was this gorgeous guy?

  Chapter Two

  Clay Henry shrugged out of his coat and hung it up by the back door, along with his hat. After tucking his gloves inside of his coat pocket, he stopped into the bathroom to wash his hands. He looked in the mirror and dragged his fingers through his hair, though he had no idea why he bothered. It wasn’t like the Bellini family cared what his hair looked like. He’d shared meals with them for years.

  But there was a woman in the dining room he’d never seen before. A beautiful woman with chin-length dark brown hair, curious blue-green eyes and full lips that captured his attention right away.

  He knew almost everyone in this town. He didn’t know her.

  He made his way into the dining room, lingering at the doorway to watch the woman in conversation with Honor. She had an easy smile and seemed to be at home with the Bellinis. He wondered if she knew Honor or the other women somehow.

  “Come on in, Clay,” Maureen Bellini said. “We’re just about to eat.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So the weather is pretty bad out there?” Johnny Bellini asked.

  “It’s coming down fast and hard. I think we’re going to get way more than the half a foot they predicted.”

  He took a seat across the table from the pretty brunette. Her gaze followed him, and she offered up a confident smile.

  “Clay Henry, this is Alice Weatherford,” Honor said. “She’s in town for her best friend’s wedding, which is next weekend.”

  “Nice to meet you, Alice.”

  “You too, Clay.”

  Their gazes stayed connected for a minute. He didn’t know if she was interested, or just curious who he was. But he definitely felt . . . something.

  “Clay and his family own the ranch bordering ours to the north,” Maureen said to Alice, interrupting that connection. “We’ve been friends since we moved here over thirty years ago.”

  “Is that right?” Alice asked. “That must be so nice, to be neighbors and friends.”

  “We all played together when we were kids,” Brenna said.

  “Yes, he was as annoying as having a brother,” Erin said, slanting a grin at Clay.

  Clay shot a smile back at Erin. “And they were as irritating as having sisters. Always up in my business, following me around . . .”

  Honor gasped. “Hey, we were not at all like that.”

  “You were definitely all like that,” Clay said.

  “I can attest that they are exactly like that,” Johnny said, “because they’re still like that.”

  “Et tu, Daddy?” Erin sighed and shook her head.

  “Is it always like this?” Alice asked.

  “Every day,” Maureen said. “You should see it when the girls have all of their friends over. Since our town is such a small subsection of a larger ci
ty, we’re a close-knit community, and all the kids went to school and grew up together.”

  “What my mother means is we all know one another’s business,” Erin said.

  “And one another’s secrets,” Brenna added. “Which can be both good and bad.”

  “Interesting,” Alice said, her lips curving as she scooped up a spoonful of corn chowder.

  Clay couldn’t help himself as he watched the spoon disappear between her lips. Normally, he’d be nonchalant about guests at the Bellini house. But something about this woman intrigued him—and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  He slowly spooned some soup into his mouth.

  “So what do you do, Alice?” Maureen asked.

  “I’m a matchmaker.”

  Clay choked on his soup.

  “Clay, are you all right?” Erin asked, patting his back.

  “Fine,” he croaked, then used the napkin to wipe his mouth. He took a sip of tea and stared at Alice. “You’re a what?”

  She didn’t look the least bit insulted. “A matchmaker.”

  “Really,” Honor said. “That’s fascinating. Tell us how that works.”

  Alice laid her spoon down. “Romance has become so transactional. Swipe right and you’ll meet at a bar. Look at someone’s photo and swipe left because . . . what? No instant connection? It’s so . . . cold, so unemotional. You look at someone’s face and decide whether they’re worthy of a date? How can you know anything about that person, what their interests are, what their likes and dislikes are, what their background is and whether they’re the right match for you or not?”

  “I’ve never used a dating app in my life,” Clay said.

  Alice picked up her glass and took a swallow of tea, then set it down. “Really? So how do you typically meet women?”

  He shrugged. “Here and there.”

  Erin leaned over and nudged her shoulder against Clay’s. “By that he means at the local bar.”

  Clay frowned. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, really,” Brenna said. “Didn’t you tell us that you met—what was her name again? Candy? Didn’t you meet her at the Red Rooster?”

  “I—” She had him there. “Okay, so just that one time.”

  “And how did that work out for you?” Alice asked.

  He didn’t want to answer.

  “I remember,” Erin said. “He told us that after two weeks of dating, Candy was as clingy as a silk skirt during a dry winter.”

  Clay shot Erin a glare. Erin just smiled back at him.

  “It’s the truth,” Erin said. “You complained to me that she texted you every hour, wanting to know what you were doing. You said she wanted to see you every day, that she was too much for you, and then you broke it off with her.”

  “All because you weren’t well matched from the beginning, right?” Alice asked, giving him a look that told him she already knew the answer.

  “Oh, and you can do better, I suppose,” Clay said.

  “I have a ninety-six percent success rate when I match couples.”

  Brenna’s eyes widened. “Ninety-six? Wow. That’s impressive.”

  “Thank you. I’m very selective. And I do an incredible amount of research before I put a couple together. That has a lot to do with my success rate.”

  Alice watched the expressions on Clay’s face. She could tell he didn’t believe a thing she said. It wasn’t the first time she’d come up against someone who was dead set against what she did for a living. Especially men. Men were the most stubborn when it came to finding love. They often felt their way was the best.

  Until she showed them her way.

  Honor shrugged. “It just seems to me that love should be left up to fate.”

  “I don’t know,” Brenna said. “I had a husband who I met through random channels, and it didn’t work out.”

  “So you’re saying you need a matchmaker, Brenna?” Erin asked. “Because as far as I know, you aren’t looking for a hookup. Or a romance. Or a new husband.”

  Brenna lifted her chin. “I’m not. I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with a matchmaker. Someone who knows what you’re looking for and who could set you up with a person who’s your ideal match.”

  “I rather like the idea of meeting the love of my life purely by accident,” Honor said. “You know, the normal way.” Honor shifted her gaze to Alice. “Not that I think your way is abnormal or anything. I’m very intrigued by what you do.”

  Alice smiled. “It’s all right. What I do isn’t for everyone. What about you, Erin? How did you and your fiancé meet?”

  “Owen and I have known each other since we were kids. We know everything about each other. The good and the bad. We’ve been through it all and we’re ready to settle down together and make a life.”

  “That’s great to hear, Erin.” She shifted her gaze to Clay, who was sitting quietly—one would say sullenly—across from her. “What do you think, Clay?”

  He shrugged. “My take on relationships is that you meet someone, there are either sparks or there aren’t. You can’t force it just because you might like art museums or sports or reading philosophy books together. I mean, yeah, those things help, but that’s not what makes a couple click.”

  She was fascinated by his take on relationships. “Really. And what do you think makes a couple click?”

  “Pure chemistry.”

  He said the words while his hot gaze melted her to the chair.

  She held his gaze, feeling its intensity, that instant heat. Oh, yes, that was very nice.

  Alice had never been one to give much credence to chemistry. What was on paper had always mattered more to her. Likes, dislikes, background, common interests. Once you had those, chemistry could come later.

  But the zing she felt in every vein of her body right now could not be discounted. Maybe it was because she hadn’t felt much of it in her lifetime. She’d had relationships and sex, and some of that sex had been really good.

  But she could swear that Clay Henry had almost given her an orgasm with that one smoldering look. Parts of her tingled and sizzled and vibrated like whoa.

  Which meant that she had to do some further investigating on the subject of chemistry. She had notes to make. Serious, copious notes.

  She also needed a refill on her iced tea.

  Because despite the epic snowstorm outside, she was extremely hot right now.

  And Clay was sitting across from her giving a very smug look, as if he knew exactly what he’d done to her with that smoldering smile of his.

  She didn’t know whether to be pissed, be intrigued, or run like hell.

  Chapter Three

  “I think you might be stuck here for a while, Clay. There’s at least two feet on the ground, and Mickey’s not going to want to trudge through that for three miles. I don’t know that you want anyone from your ranch to head out in this to come fetch you, either. It’s coming down so hard you can’t see in front of you and the winds are blowing at thirty to forty miles an hour, making visibility even harder. Best leave Mickey in the barn and spend the night.”

  Clay stared out across the whiteout conditions, inclined to agree with Johnny Bellini’s assessment of the situation. He’d put his horse in the Bellinis’ barn, so Mickey had fresh hay and water to wait out the storm. It looked like Clay was going to have to do the same thing. He’d already texted his dad to let him know where he was so he wouldn’t worry, and asked his dad to go to his house to grab his dog, Homer, for him. His dad said he’d take care of it.

  If he’d had his truck he could have made it, but there was no way he was going to ask his horse to trudge all those miles on unpaved roads in this snowstorm.

  “Thanks for letting me stay.”

  “Plenty of room here, and you’re always welcome.” Johnny patted him on the back and went
inside.

  Clay lingered on the back porch to watch the snow, and maybe cool down a bit.

  He glanced inside the Bellinis’ house, his mind wandering back to that incendiary lunch. There was something about Alice Weatherford and the looks he’d exchanged with her while they were discussing chemistry.

  He hadn’t intentionally been hitting on her, but damn if he didn’t feel an unexpected hot spike of desire whenever their eyes met. Then again, who wouldn’t be attracted to her? She was beautiful and smart and engaging. He’d like to get to know her better, which was probably a bad idea because she was a guest of the Bellinis, and a short-term guest at that.

  Getting involved with someone who wasn’t staying long seemed like a waste of time.

  He needed to stop playing around with women who weren’t in it for the long haul, and start planning his forever. That wasn’t going to happen with a woman who would only be in his sphere for a few days.

  He turned and went inside, shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook in the hall. He grabbed a cup of coffee in the kitchen, then wandered the house to see who was around.

  He found Alice sitting in the great room, her laptop open on her lap, a pair of purple glasses bridged on her nose. She looked pretty, and he could imagine her propped up in bed reading a book while he sat next to her reading a book of his own. A down comforter would surround them on a cold winter night, and Homer, his Labrador retriever, would be nestled at the foot of the bed, sound asleep.

  Where the hell had that visual come from?

  She looked up and smiled at him as he entered. Her smile was genuine, not forced, and it reached her eyes, making them sparkle like stars.

  Damn.

  “Sorry,” he said. “You’re probably working.”