Make Me a Match (The Soul Mate Tree Book 5)

by Mackenzie Lucas

  “Mark.” The woman repeated his name. “Follow me.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed. Since when did he start seeing things? Shit. This was crazy.

  “Mark.” The tone, more insistent this time, carried the perfect intonation of Sarah’s when she grew pissed.

  He shook his in amazement. Leave it to him to conjure up a pissed-off Sarah.

  “Get your ass moving, Mark.”

  What the hell? He crossed the street to see the apparition disappear around the corner.

  Great. A fucking game of hide-and-seek.

  Just what he needed at almost midnight.

  But he had nothing better to do, so he followed. Plus, he was curious why his mind would play tricks on him now, in this way.

  He followed her into a warren of streets, past George Street, the popular tourist destination in the Old Spanish Quarter, until he stopped in front of the enclosed courtyard of a convent. The wrought iron gate, open, invited him in.

  “Mark.” Sarah hovered in the center of the courtyard next to a shimmering tree. “Come here.”

  Neither were real.

  He was crazy. Batshit, apparently.

  She beckoned. “Hurry.”

  He pushed the gate wider and entered. He’d have followed her into hell itself, if he could’ve. If it meant he could actually have her back.

  The vision wavered, as if the satellite connection were blocked by heavy rainfall.

  “What am I doing?” He gazed up into the sky, not for the first time questioning why he’d followed the ghost of his dead wife through the streets of St. Augustine to the courtyard of St. John’s Convent. The stars overhead, pinpricks of light, glittered in a midnight sky, mocking him in their silence. You still love her.

  “Mark, you need to let go.” Her soft words drew his attention back to the pale image of the vibrant woman he’d loved so much for so long.

  “Not possible.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s time.” The tree behind her shimmered, its oval silver leaves quivering in the wind. “I can’t watch over you anymore. I’ve got to move on.”

  He ran his hands back through his hair, shaking his head in denial. “No.”

  “Yes. See this tree?”

  “I don’t care about a tree. I love you.”

  “This is the Soul Mate Tree. It will help you find your true love.”

  “You are my true love. See, it brought you to me.”

  “Yes, it did. For tonight only. Tomorrow, you’ll begin a new journey. One to a new soul mate. Someone who will awaken you to love once more. The spirit who lives inside the tree says you’ve already met her.”

  “Dammit, Sarah, I don’t want a new love. I want you.” He paused, her words sinking in. “Met who?” Did she refer to Daphne?

  “Not possible, babe. We had our time. Now, you must live. For you. For Jamie. She needs you to find love before she sets out in the world.”

  Had Sarah been watching them? Knew what was going on? She’d died ten years ago, and yet she knew Jamie was headed off to college in the fall. Damn. Maybe he should have paid better attention in Sunday school growing up. Then he’d know what happened to someone’s spirit when they died. “Where are you? Why are you here now?”

  “Ask Gabby to help you.”

  “Gabby? Your grandmother? Help me find love? Ah, no. Not gonna happen.”

  “Yes.” The image wavered once more. “The tree. You must promise.”

  “Wait. Don’t go.”

  “Promise. You will follow your heart, find your soul mate. Let the tree guide you.”

  “No. I don’t—”

  “Promise, please, Mark.” He could see tears glistening in her beautiful gray eyes, her voice almost a sob.

  “Dammit.” He could never resist her tears. “All right. I will try.”

  A cool shaft of air surrounded him. Something brushed his lips. Her face appeared before his. “Always remember I loved you first, but I am not the last.”

  Mark lunged toward the apparition, not knowing exactly what he expected to happen. Maybe that he could keep her. But she was gone. Like water slipping through his hands. Vapor. A mist.

  He let out a frustrated bellow, whirled in a circle, and planted his fist in the trunk of the tree.

  Yes, the damned tree remained. Magical. Shimmering. And yet surprisingly solid under his knuckles.

  “Ow.” He doubled over and babied his throbbing hand against his belly. Deflated, he felt like the life had been knocked out of him. She’d been here. For a moment. Sarah, the love of his life. Now she was gone, just as quickly. Lost to him all over again. Pain and betrayal hit him hard. With hurricane force.

  Alone. Again. Forever. Goddammit.

  Mark sagged against the tree and eased himself to the ground. What had just happened?

  He’d been sucker-punched by a ghost with a message about a goddamn tree. A dainty sound like bells on a cat’s collar sounded above him. A lone leaf fell, twirling in a circular motion until it gently landed on his outstretched leg. He picked it up, turning it by the stem to study it. It felt real. Tensile and fibrous. A real leaf, and yet, gilded with silver.

  Mark pushed himself to his feet. He flexed his right hand. It ached like a son-of-a-bitch. His heart ached more.

  He studied the tree for a long time. Big and solid, it was probably hundreds of years old. Could the tree help him find love again?

  Pure bullshit! He rubbed his face, beard growth abrading his palms. First ghosts, now fairies. Shit. What was next?

  He was totally adrift. All he wanted at the moment was his bed, and to put this night far, far behind him.

  Tucking the leaf inside his front jeans pocket, Mark set off to do just that.

  Chapter 3

  Cost of Doing Business

  Mark jerked awake, pushing himself onto his elbows. His heart pounded in his chest. He was in his bed. Fully clothed. He must have fallen into it face first.

  Rolling over on his back, he noticed he hadn’t even bothered to take off his shoes. Mouth dry, his head hurt like a motherfucker. He must have tied one on last night. The pounding slammed in his head. This time louder. He rubbed his temples.

  Nope. That was someone pounding on the front door.

  Perfect. Crawling out of bed, he stumbled through the great room to the front door.

  When Sarah got sick, it'd made life easier to move the master suite to the ground floor—transforming his study into their bedroom. He’d never moved their bed back upstairs. Now he wished he had. Would have been able to ignore whoever decided to intrude on his Saturday morning. He squinted at his wristwatch. Seven o’clock. Damn. He’d hoped to get at least two more hours.

  He yanked the front door open. “What do you want?”

  “Nice to see you too, handsome.” Gabrielle Anderson, all petite five-feet-two of her, pushed past Mark to get inside the house.

  “Gabby?” Mark rubbed sleep from his eyes. His brain was still fuzzy from the aftermath of whiskey.

  “Let’s get you some coffee, honey.”

  “I don’t want coffee. I want sleep.” He rubbed his chest through his T-shirt, but followed her to the kitchen anyway. One thing he knew about Anderson women, there was no stopping them. Sarah had steamrolled him when she wanted something and she’d gotten the skill from Gabby, her grandmother.

  Mark settled on a stool at the kitchen island, holding his head.

  “Yep, you need coffee and lots of it.” She lifted a bag, shaking it. “Plus, I brought donuts.”

  “I need my bed for a few more hours, not sugar.” He raised his head and watched Gabby pour coffee grounds into a filter. She filled the carafe with water then dumped it into the coffeemaker before turning back to pin him with those gray eyes that were so much like
her granddaughter’s and his daughter’s.

  “No. We need to talk.”

  “Oh gawd, woman. Can’t you see I’m in no shape to talk to anyone?”

  She closed one eye, screwing her mouth to one side as she took the measure of him. “Your shape and form isn’t the problem, young man.” She winked. “I have it on the best authority that you’re a hottie. All the women think so, young and old alike. When are you going to start dating?”

  “Shit. We’ve got to talk about this now?” He scrutinized the ceiling as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What have you heard, old woman?”

  She cackled. “Nothing. Well, not true. I heard from Sally you were hitting on a pretty sweet thing at Essence yesterday.”

  “I didn’t hit—”

  “Wait, Dad was hitting on a woman? When? Where? And why don’t I know?” Jamie lurched through the doorway, much like Mark had a few minutes before, her dark hair a tangle around her head. She wore shorts, a faded T-shirt, and bunny slippers. She sagged onto the stool next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Is there coffee?”

  Gabby pulled another cup from the cupboard. “Sure. Give it a sec.”

  “Tell me about this woman.” Jamie snuggled into his side.

  “There’s not much to tell.” Mark had no intention of talking about any woman with his seventeen-year-old daughter.

  “From what I hear, he botched it.” Gabby poured coffee into two mugs and pushed one toward each of them.

  “I did not.”

  “Da-a-a-d.” His daughter hopped up to grab almond milk from the fridge, and dumped it into her coffee.

  He raised his hands in defense. “I swear. I did nothing. I said hello.”

  “You need to do more than say a simple hello, even I know that much.” She settled back beside him, perched on the edge of the stool, waiting expectantly for him to go on.

  Gabby watched him, too. Mark had no idea what they were doing. What they wanted from him. “What? I got nothing.”

  Gabby sighed. “He needs serious help in the dating department.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Do, too.” Jamie chimed in. “I think you’ve talked to two women since I was five. Sally and old Mrs. Crenshaw next door. You’ll never get a date talking to those two.”

  “Unless he’s going to the Geriatric Ball.” Gabby chuckled. “We could make it happen.”

  Mark had had enough. “Stop it, women. I’m fine. I was talking to a guest at Essence yesterday. No big deal.”

  “Again, two women in my lifetime. Big squawking deal.” A smile spread across Jamie’s face, making her appear impish.

  “You’re exaggerating.” They were beginning to piss him off. He’d talked to women. Plenty of women. It had just never mattered until yesterday. He’d wanted to meet the kindergarten teacher because she was pretty and sweet and, well, safe. Mark paused, remembering Pace’s words from the night before. Damn. I’m going for safety, not passion. “I talk to plenty of women.”

  “Nope.” Jamie grabbed a donut from the bag Gabby had pushed toward her. “You don’t. Want help?”

  “No. And especially not from the two of you.”

  Jamie and Gabby exchanged a significant look, some kind of silent communication going on between the two. Not that it meant anything to him. He wasn’t fluent in woman-mind-speak. But he sure as shit knew something was up and he wouldn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “Don’t you dare,” he warned.

  Jamie winked at Gabby. Standing, she grabbed her coffee and her donut and raised her hands as she shuffled backward. “I got nothing.” She grinned as she mimicked his words back at him.

  “Smartass.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  “Yeah.” He knew his daughter. She was up to something, and nothing good would come from this for him. Mark turned back to Gabby. “I don’t want her meddling. Or you, for that matter.”

  “I don’t meddle.”

  He glared at her.

  “I merely tweak.”

  “Don’t.” He meant it as a threat.

  “You do realize you don’t scare me, right?” She laughed at him, arms crossed.

  “No, I know. It’s the feisty Anderson gene.”

  “Got that right. Good thing your daughter has it, too.”

  “Not sure who it’s good for,” he grumbled.

  “For you and every guy she ever dates.” Gabby closed the bag of donuts. “She’ll never be a doormat.”

  “No, she won’t.” Thank God he’d done something right.

  “Anderson women know how to take care of themselves.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I get no credit here?”

  She smiled. “You do. But it’s good genes too.”

  “Whatever. Shouldn’t you be going, now that you’ve caused trouble?”

  “No. I haven’t said what I came to say yet.”

  “What?” He glanced around. “There’s more? Shit. Don’t think I can handle more tweaking from you today.”

  “Tough.” She goaded. “Man up.”

  He took a sip of his coffee as he waited for her to broach whatever subject she thought he needed set aright.

  Watching him, she sobered. “I had a visitor last night.”

  “Should I be worried? Call Jack? Someone bothering you?” Gabby lived on the inlet. There’d been some unusual activity lately, smuggling and piracy.

  “Psshaw.” She waved her hand. “Not that kind of company.” She shuffled forward and rested her elbows on the counter across from him. “I’m talking the spirit kind. Yes, my woowoo side.”

  Mark froze. Everything he’d thought had been a drunken dream from the night before came rushing back. He reached into his right pocket and retrieved the silver leaf.

  Gabby plucked it from his fingers. “What’s this?”

  Mark held up his hands. “Nope. Not gonna do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Talk about last night.”

  “What happened last night?” She studied him with wisdom in her eyes. “Where’d you get this?”

  Mark tried to form the words. But they sounded too crazy. Too bizarre. She’d have him committed. Plus, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t do it.

  She waited. Arms crossed, toe tapping. “Really?”

  “You are not psychic. You cannot read my mind.”

  “I am, but I don’t have to be. Your face says it all. You think whatever happened to you is crazy.”

  He glared at her. “Yeah, it is.” He considered telling her about the tree. But again, the words would not come, they wouldn’t form on his tongue or organize in his brain. What he’d experienced was too weird. A tree that brings you to your true love. Bah.

  “All I know is, she said you promised.”

  “What the fuck?” Mark blustered. “Were you there last night? Orchestrating that hat trick?”

  She pursed her lips and slowly moved her head back and forth. “No, honey. I did not. Whatever it was, it was Sarah’s doing.”

  “Not what I want to hear.”

  “She wanted me to remind you that you promised her. And I’m supposed to help you when you need it. By the looks of it . . . and from what Sally said, sounds like you need help.”

  Mark grunted. “I do not need help with a woman.”

  “The man doth protest too much.” She laid the leaf down on the counter and disappeared down the hall. “I’ll be in touch.”

  With those words, she was gone as quickly as she'd come blustering into his morning. Thank God all the meddling women in his life had disappeared. For now. Let’s hope they stay that way until they forget all about me.

  Or at least until he got a few more hours of sleep.

  ~ ~ ~ />
  No such luck. Neither of them forgot. Two days later Jamie came bounding into his office at Ancient City Brewery. “Hey, Daddy-o.”

  “Uh oh. She wants something,” Mark commented to no one in particular as he pushed away the stack of invoices in front of him. Running a brewery was work he didn’t usually mind. Today, though, his focus was shot. “What do you need now, dollface?”

  “Nope. I don’t want anything. I’ve got something for you. It’s a surprise.” She waved a folder in his face.

  He went to grab for it and she snatched it back. “Hold on. Not so fast.”

  Mark settled back into his chair and laced his hands behind his head, prepared to wait for the reveal. “Okay, so what’s this all about?”

  “Weeeeeeeell. It’s good for you, but you’re not gonna like it.”

  “Sounds like what I used to tell you about eating your Brussel sprouts and broccoli.”

  “Eww.” Her face comically contorted. “You don’t need to get nasty.”

  Amazing. The girl still hated broccoli and Brussel sprouts to this day.

  “It’s in no way as bad as Brussel sprouts.” She blessed him with one of her brightest smiles. He was in so much trouble.

  “This is going to be bad.” He groaned. “Out with it. What is it? College is ten grand more? You want to go to school in the Grand Caymans?”

  “Can I? Is that a possibility?”

  “Ah, no, not even a chance. You’ve been accepted into the University of Virginia. That’s where you’re going.”

  She pretended to pout for a few moments, then smiled. “Okay. Charlottesville it is, then. Sooooo. Ready for your surprise?”

  “Girl, you better share before you burst.”

  She studied him warily. “All right. So. Here’s the deal. I bought something . . .”

  “This never ends well for a man.” Mark sighed and pulled at his ear. “How much did you spend?”

  “For me, what is a mini-fortune.”

  Mark groaned. “How much?”

  “A thousand dollars.”

  His front chair legs slammed to the concrete floor. “You what?”