The Matchmaker Bride

by Ginny Baird

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is true.” Her eyes widened. “You’re still upset with me, aren’t you? From all that stuff that happened last summer.”

  This was an ambush. He didn’t know if she was hinting about what had happened with the wedding, or during their moment alone together on the dock. The first one yeah, he was not so thrilled about. The second one, though, wasn’t worth thinking about.

  His neck burned hot with the lie.

  She blinked like she’d just put something together. “Is that what your striptease was all about?”

  He gawked at her. “Striptease? Woman, I live here.”

  “So you can just take your clothes off whenever you want to?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.” He shook his head. “Look. You had your chance to sleep in the bedroom. You’d get a whole lot more privacy in there.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks.” She cast a disgusted glance in that direction. “Besides that, you took your shirt off out here.”

  He threw his hands up. “So sue me! I was hot.”

  She scrutinized him oddly. “You really do believe that about yourself, don’t you?”

  Ouch. Way to bruise a man’s ego. “What? That I’m hot?” he asked incredulous.

  She rolled her eyes.

  So what was the big deal? He couldn’t help it that the ladies liked him. Most ladies, anyway. Except for, apparently, her. “Since when have you cared what I think?” he asked.

  “I don’t.” She punched a pillow and pushed it into a pillowcase with all her might. “That’s just the point.”

  He shoved his pillow into its pillowcase with extra force, too, wondering about that other thing she’d said. “In that case, why don’t you explain why you believe I’m upset?” he asked with an agitated air.

  She squared her shoulders. “You were there, too, Derrick. Don’t act like you weren’t.”

  “Okay, fine! If you must know, I wasn’t so happy about what you and your friends did, no.” Which was true, but other things about her bothered him, too. Like how she could never let things go until they were full-fledged brawling. Verbally anyway.

  “I apologized to your grandmother.” She paused a beat. “And earlier to Brent.”

  “Oh goodie for you.” He stared at her and waited. “You haven’t said as much to me.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Is that what you want? An apology?”

  They both tossed their pillows onto the sofa bed at the same time and he met her eyes. “Maybe.”

  “All right. Well then.” She licked her lips. “I’m sorry.” In a way she sounded sincere but her eyes seemed to be masking something. “Very sorry, I mean it. For what went down with the wedding. Not about anything else, though.”

  Of course she couldn’t resist that caveat. “No?”

  “No.”

  “Nice, Mer,” he said in combative tones. “Well, I’m not sorry for anything else, either.”

  She held his gaze for an electric moment. “Great. That makes two of us.”

  What did that mean? That she didn’t regret their almost-kiss? Or that she didn’t regret them stopping it?

  Whatever. She could think what she wanted. He never wished for any of that.

  What a disaster that would have been. Him and Meredith.

  A total disaster. Unless. She was a little more like she’d been that night.

  Tender. Sweet. Enticing. His pulse stuttered.

  If he’d never seen that glimpse of her, his life would be so much easier.

  But he had.

  So it wasn’t.

  She arranged the blanket on the bed, grumbling to herself. “It’s been a long day. I think I’m going to turn in soon.”

  “I hear that,” he said. “I’m sure we both need a break—”

  Her chin jerked up. “From each other?”

  He held up one hand. “You said that, not me.”

  “No, but you thought it.”

  “What are you now, the mind police?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Why do you always have to be so contrary?”

  He laughed. “That’s a good one. Coming from the person who’s about as contrary as they get.” His voice rose to stay above the tenor of the rain outside.

  Hers did as well. “Me? Contrary?”

  “Yes. You.”

  “You’re the contrary one, Derrick.”

  “You see? There you go again.”

  Her eyes flashed. “That was a trap!”

  “Which you laid yourself and then walked straight into!”

  Meredith huffed. “Let’s hope you’re not this difficult around Olivia,” she said. “At this rate, you’ll never win her back.”

  “I’m not trying to win you back.” He let this sink in. “Or even win you at all.”

  “Good thing.” She flattened him with her stare. “It would be a losing battle.”

  Winds howled outside, sending the choppy surf sloshing against the dock.

  His breath came in ragged fits and starts but he didn’t answer at first. As if he’d even consider going after her. He’d have to be out of his head.

  He scooped up the extra quilt. “Going to need this?”

  “Don’t think so,” she said. “I hear it’s warm in Maine.”

  He paused by the stove. “That’s hot in Blue Hill.”

  Heavy rain streaked the cabin’s windows, pelting the tin roof.

  “Yeah well, you know what they say. If you can’t take the heat—”

  “You’re right,” he said coolly. “It’s way past my bedtime.”

  She bent her fingers in a wave. “Nighty-night.”

  “Sleep tight,” he groused before turning away. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” Then he added on purpose. “Literally.”

  She gasped, goggling at the sofa bed.

  “There are bedbugs in there?”

  “Only a few.”

  …

  Derrick would have paid big bucks to have a snapshot of Meredith’s face when he’d mentioned those bedbugs. Naturally, he didn’t have them. But if she wanted to worry about the possibility that he did, that was her business. He hoped she wouldn’t sleep a wink.

  The nerve she had, upending his day from the very beginning. Then, when things had finally begun to settle down between them, she’d gotten him all irritated again. Was it possible for Meredith to not irritate him during the course of a twenty-four-hour period?

  Probably not.

  He sighed.

  It was going to be a long ten days.

  He shut the door to his room, glad for the quiet. Then the thunder started up again with more wind and heavy rain. How on earth did she have a matchmaker show? She must project a very different persona before the camera and to her clients than she presented to him. A more diplomatic and agreeable one.

  He nabbed his laptop off his dresser and carried it to his bed, fluffing a pillow behind his back. The web browser was right where he left it when she’d shown up at his door, pot roast in hand—her webpage. No longer looking for a way to contact her, he focused on the information displayed on the screen. What he found surprised him. She had a super glossy website, probably set up by her television station, or maybe she’d paid to have it done herself.

  There were all sorts of stylized photos of her grinning broadly on the set of Matched Up, her arms around satisfied clients, meaning the couples she’d brought together. Her set looked really goofy, all pink and red and girly with glittery heart mobiles dangling everywhere.

  The pretend living room that served as its centerpiece contained a big white couch holding heart-shaped pillows. The fluffy white rug in front of it looked like it was made from fake animal fur, and the glass coffee table held a stack of books and a few coffee mugs. In the midst of all that, Meredith conducted an interview wit
h a woman he’d seen in another photo paired with a man.

  Meredith had told him on their ride home that Beth had spoken to their station manager, and he’d agreed to exert his influence to hold back the press. No sense letting media hounds sniff around if they might blow her engagement cover story. Jerry was apprised of the whole situation and very happy to go along with Meredith’s grand plan, since Matched Up getting syndicated would benefit him, too.

  Derrick scanned Meredith’s bio, seeing she’d been doing this for four years, and then clicked on her contact page. There were links to her social media there. He went over and perused her various accounts, gleaning fairly quickly that most of her fans were in Boston.

  Wait. Was that a photo of his cabin?

  It was. There was also a short video clip, showing him looking disgruntled on his doorstep. Both had been uploaded by @GloriaRafael, who’d tagged @MatchmakerMeredith in her posts. Great, so now he was a celebrity, too. On a micro-scale.

  Maybe it was a good thing Meredith wasn’t syndicated yet.

  Otherwise, he wouldn’t be getting a moment’s peace.

  He closed his laptop and his gut clenched. Meredith was very accomplished at her job and he’d done nothing but pick on her about it. He’d also called her contrary when he’d been acting pretty contrary himself. She obviously wasn’t abrasive with everybody, not from the satisfied looks on the faces of the clients on her show. Nor from their glowing reviews and testimonials. He wasn’t proud of his behavior, but he could apologize for it.

  He carried his laptop to his dresser and set it down, then he saw light streaming in from the kitchen under his bedroom door. Either Meredith was still up or she’d forgotten to turn the kitchen light off. He decided to crack open his door and check.

  When he did, he spied Meredith snuggled up under the covers and sleeping soundly already. She really must have been exhausted from her long day. Not to mention all the grief that he’d given her. He frowned, knowing that he could do better.

  He stole quietly into the kitchen and switched off the light.

  The rain had let up but still lightly pinged against the window. He’d left his bedroom door slightly ajar and dim lamplight glowed from behind it, bathing the cabin’s floors and fanning out toward the sofa bed.

  Meredith mumbled and rolled onto her side and her long curly hair swept across her pillow. She looked just like a sleeping fairytale princess. His heart warmed and then it gave a funny little twist.

  Nope. He was not interested in Meredith Galanes.

  An image came back to him of them standing face-to-face on his grandparents’ dock in the moonlight but then he quickly pushed it away, realizing he needed to put that episode in perspective. A, nothing had happened, and B, that was in the past.

  He crept back into his bedroom and quietly shut the door, regaining his focus.

  He needed to let all of that go.

  Sure right. Like that was so simple.

  With Meredith here, it was getting less and less “simple” all the time.

  Chapter Nine

  Meredith rolled over in bed and pulled the pillow over her head.

  Knock, knock, knock. Bang, bang!

  Seriously? It was barely daylight. Between the thunderstorm and the lumpy mattress, she’s scarcely slept a wink. Then there was that little concern about bedbugs. She kept imagining being bitten all night long, miniature phantom fangs feasting on her flesh.

  Thanks a lot, Derrick.

  Where was he anyway? And why wasn’t he answering the door? She was groggy and grumpy and still not completely over his rudeness last night.

  She was also annoyed with herself for getting mad at him. Not just about the contrary business but because she hadn’t liked thinking about his previous “guests” or whatever he’d called the women he’d had over here. What did it matter to her? He was a grown man, and not her man. Far from it. Good thing, too. He drove her bananas.

  The knocking happened again and Meredith pulled the pillow away from her face to listen. What if Jerry’s contact couldn’t help and it was the paparazzi, back for another try?

  Then she heard another noise: the shower streaming in the bathroom, and there was a weird humming sound. No, not humming. Singing! It sounded like an Irish folksong. Or maybe an old sea tune. Yeah, like sailors sing. Begrudgingly, she admitted his voice was pretty good. She tried really hard not to think about what he looked like in the shower. But she’d already seen the top half of him naked. So—

  Knock-knock-knock. “Hel-lo!”

  Meredith shot up ramrod straight into a sitting position. No. Couldn’t be.

  But she’d know that voice anywhere.

  “María Josefina! It’s me! Titi Clarita. Are you in there?”

  Meredith pressed her palms to her temples, her head spinning. Her aunt was in Blue Hill. But why? She scrambled out of bed dressed in the baggy football jersey she wore as a nightshirt.

  She tiptoed to the door and peered through its tiny peephole.

  Titi Clarita stood there, birdlike, on the stoop, her pert angular chin tipped up and her big, dark eyes opened wide beneath enormous pasted-on eyelashes. She had short curly dark hair and a petite frame and wore jeans and a paisley top. A gigantic designer suitcase was beside her. She lifted her fist to knock again but Meredith jerked open the door.

  “Titi Clarita,” she said in hushed tones. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you, too.” Her aunt gave her a curt perusal and brushed past her, dragging in her rolling bag by its large strap. She shut the door behind her then wheeled on Meredith.

  “Your mom sent me. She wants me to put an end to this disaster at once.”

  “What disaster?”

  “You’re living in sin, mija. Here.” She fished a small paper sack out of her purse that was stamped with the seal of a cathedral. “Take this, and say whatever.”

  Meredith peeked into the bag, finding a box with a price sticker still on it. “What is it?”

  “A rosary.” She shook her head. “You really have been away from the church for too long.” She shrugged. “Then again, so have I.”

  The water cut off in the shower and Meredith gaped at her aunt. “You can’t stay here. You’ve got to go!”

  “Go? But I’ve only just arrived.” She heard whistling from the bathroom, then another chorus of bawdy belted-out song. “Is that him? He sounds handsome.”

  “How can someone sound—? Never mind.” She took her aunt by the shoulders and gently spun her around. “You need to leave before Derrick comes out here.”

  Titi Clarita blinked. “That’s no kind of welcome.”

  “You weren’t invited.”

  “Yes, I was. By your mom.”

  “This isn’t anything like it seems. Look,” she said, attempting to assuage her aunt’s fears. “I’m sleeping out here—see? In the living room.”

  “There are two pillows,” Titi Clarita noted reasonably. “Both appear used.”

  Meredith sighed. “Please go, and I’ll call you. Explain everything, very, very soon.”

  The door to the bathroom cracked open and a column of steam escaped from behind it.

  “But I’m dead tired,” Titi Clarita said. “I caught a late-night flight to Boston and then this morning drove all the way here.”

  “There are some nice hotels in Bangor. That’s not too far away. I’ll go online and make you a reservation.”

  “What? No.”

  “Sí, sí. Pu-leeze,” she said, lightly shoving her aunt. “I’ll text you with the details if you just g—”

  “Good morning,” Derrick said, toweling off his head. He had a second towel wrapped around his waist and his sexy chest still glistened with moisture. He did a double take and stared at Titi Clarita and then again at Meredith. “Uh. Who are you?”

  “She… She’s a repor
ter!” Meredith said.

  “What?” Titi Clarita stared at her aghast. “No, I’m not.”

  “With a suitcase?” Derrick’s eyebrows shot up. “A really big one, too.” He scrutinized Meredith and she wanted to sink into the floor. “Wouldn’t happen to be a relative of yours?”

  Titi Clarita shook herself out of Meredith’s grip and strolled right up to him. “I’m her aunt,” she said. “Clarita Rincón. Here to help.”

  “Help?” His forehead creased. “How?”

  She swept her hand around the cabin. “With all of this. The mess you and Marijose are making together.”

  “Marí-josé?”

  “Of course, you probably call her María, or maybe María Josefina.”

  Derrick addressed Meredith and her cheeks burned hot. “Mer?”

  “It’s my birth name. I don’t use it.”

  “Which is such a shame,” Clarita said. Then as an aside she added for Derrick’s benefit, “My niece picked Meredith as her stage name, and her dad’s still not over it.”

  “Anyway!” Meredith said. “My aunt was just leaving.”

  Derrick interceded. “Now that’s not very hospitable, is it?” He smiled at Titi Clarita. “Where did you come from?”

  “Miami. This is a busy time of year for Mari— ah, Meredith’s parents. They own a catering company and June stays hopping with weddings.” Derrick nodded and she continued. “I myself had a little more time. As it so happens, I’m between husbands.”

  “Between?” Derrick asked. “How many have there been?”

  “Four,” Clarita said smoothly at the same time Meredith said, “Six.”

  Clarita tsked. “Everyone knows that annulments don’t count. And, anyway! I’m here about the two of you, and not me.”

  “Yeah, well,” Derrick said. “I can’t wait to hear more about that. In the meantime, let me put on some pants.”

  “Oh no, don’t bother!” Clarita said as he entered his bedroom. “On my account.”

  Derrick grinned politely before shutting his door. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Titi Clarita,” Meredith scolded once Derrick had gone. “Were you actually hitting on him?”