Matched Online: Anthology Bks 1-4 (Contemporary Romance)

by Lacy Williams, Julie Jarnagin, Robin Patchen

  "I know, you never meet anybody local. So that's why I found a dating site."

  He stared at the screen, at his name in black next to a grayed-out space for a photograph. "What did you do?"

  "I got it started for you. I have a bunch of photographs for you to pick from, so people can see your handsome face. You have to have a profile to look at the other profiles. I thought you could—"

  "Online dating? Are you crazy?"

  "Celeste from church—you know her, right? Her daughter joined, and she's had lots of dates."

  "Celeste is ancient. Her daughter must be in her seventies."

  "She's in her fifties, and she's met a lot of nice men. If she can find a date, then you can too. All the young people are online dating now."

  "Mom, I really don't need—"

  "Hush up." She clicked a few times, then scrolled through a few photographs. Nice faces, mostly from far away towns.

  He pointed to the screen. "This woman lives in Clinton. Do you know how far that is from here?"

  "You could meet her in the city."

  "In all my spare time."

  "She's pretty, though, right?"

  An attractive woman, sure. But Clinton... That was a hundred miles from here. "I have a child. I can't go traipsing all over the state looking for a woman."

  "Fine. Find somebody close by. You can search by location..." She clicked the keyboard. "Here you go. These are all within fifty miles."

  Like that was close.

  He pulled the computer closer, changed the parameters to within ten miles, and pressed enter, hoping this would end the conversation. Not that he minded dating. He'd love to find a woman to spend some time with. Nothing serious. He'd tried serious twice. He knew the problem wasn't his charming daughter. It was him. He was fine dating material, but apparently not the type of guy a woman wanted to settle down with. Heather, his girlfriend back in the city, had run at his mention of marriage. Almost as fast as Sara's mother had. He didn't need that kind rejection again. Sara'd gotten attached to Heather. Her heart had broken nearly as badly as his when Heather'd dumped Carter. No, he wouldn't put his daughter through that again. But a woman to take to the movies? Maybe have lunch with? He wouldn't argue with that.

  So while he waited for his mother's ancient computer to load a new list, part of him, maybe a big part of him, hoped there'd be someone close by.

  There was. Josephine Domani. According to this, she lived in Ross, too. No photograph. She probably had a big wart on her nose.

  He stared at the profile, which was about as detailed as his—meaning nothing but name and hometown. As if the woman wasn't serious at all.

  Perfect.

  "Fine," he said. "If I try it, will you leave me alone?"

  His mother narrowed her eyes. "Define try."

  "I'll go out with one woman, and I'll be my charming self."

  "That'll have to do."

  "Then you'll leave me alone?"

  "Yes."

  "Forever?"

  She sighed. "For six months. But by the time school gets out, if you're still alone, then we're going to have this conversation again."

  He couldn't argue. Mom had done nothing but help him since they'd moved to Ross over the summer. If one lousy date would get her off his back for a while?

  "Deal."

  3

  Jo left Andrew in charge of the shop, slipped into her coat, and stared at the back door of her store. Had she lost her mind?

  The night before, Mom hadn't left like Jo had hoped. Instead, she'd leaned on Jo's car in the lot behind the building, and when she came out of the shop, had insisted on dinner. They sat at the kitchen table in Jo's little house in town—no way was she letting the townsfolk overhear her mother's lecture—and ate leftover grilled chicken and argued about online dating. Until the ominous ding from Mom's laptop.

  A message from a man via the dating website. Someone wanted to meet Jo.

  Before her mother could respond for her, she'd grabbed the laptop and considered slamming it shut. But what could one date hurt? And anyway, hadn't she agreed to sign up for the dating site in the first place?

  That's what her friends had all agreed—to join dating sites to find companions for their ten-year reunion next summer. It was still months away. That gave her time to let her hair grow out a little more. Time to get her feet back under her.

  She'd wanted so much out of life. To see the world, to scale tall mountains and float exotic rivers, to tell people about Christ. In high school, she'd had just enough taste of adventure to know her life would not be lived in Ross, Oklahoma.

  Cancer had changed all that. After three years of chemotherapy, her greatest desire had boiled down to three little words: Do not die. Trouble was, there was a very big difference between not dying and living. For three years all she'd thought about was not dying. Now she had to figure out how to live again.

  Maybe life wouldn't involve the adventure she'd craved as a teenager. Today, she'd settle for a husband and a child. But the cancer had snatched even that dream away.

  So, fine. A date. There was a real live person who wanted to meet her. Maybe this could be another step in her new life.

  Her mother's eyes were wide and bright and hopeful.

  "Okay, fine. I'll meet the guy."

  Jo shook off last night's insanity. Who could've predicted he'd want to have lunch today? She'd asked if they could make it a late lunch, since the store was busiest between eleven-thirty and one-thirty. Busiest. By that she meant they had three or four customers an hour instead of the typical one or two. Now it was two o'clock, her stomach was growling, and she was irritated—hangry, her mother would say. Great attitude to meet a new guy.

  No backing out now.

  She pushed out the back door and into the November sunshine. The wind from the night before had died down, and the temperature had climbed a bit. Not too terrible for sitting on a bench outside the restaurant. How long should she wait before she gave up? The guy would get a glimpse of her, then turn and run, and she could enjoy a late lunch at Murphy's Irish Eatery by herself. Nobody would ever have to know.

  She walked the quiet sidewalk to the restaurant, sat on the outside bench, and told herself it was an adventure. She used to love adventure. Had lived for adventure. Then her world had fallen apart. Now, the thought only made her more nervous.

  This was ridiculous.

  A moment later, the man who mailed packages all over the world from her store approached and stopped beside the bench. She glanced at him, looked past him. Great, now her date would find her talking to GQ. "How are you?"

  He sat beside her, a wide smile. "I'm great. How about you?"

  She should ask him to leave. But it would be so nice to sit beside this handsome man and skip the date all together. "I'm hungry."

  He nodded. "Me, too. It's kind of late for lunch. Not that I mind, of course. I had a snack." He chuckled, looked away then back at her. "You are Josephine, right?"

  Whoa. Her heartbeat tripped like she'd slid on ice. "Uh, yes. You're not..."

  He held out his hand. "Carter James. I had no idea..."

  She swallowed a nervous giggle and rested her palm in his. Holy cow. She was going on a date with GQ. He hadn't turned and run. "Josephine Domani. Everybody calls me Jo. I don't know why my mother insisted I put my whole name—" She slapped her hand over her mouth. Her mother? Sheesh, what was she, fifteen?

  His laugh was deep and kind. "My mother did my profile, too."

  "You're kidding."

  "How I wish I were." He stood and held out his hand. "Shall we?"

  She took it, thinking he only meant to help her up. It was large and warm and comforting. She figured he'd let her go as soon as she stood, but instead, he held on as they entered the restaurant. When was the last time someone had held her hand? She couldn't remember. Her mother, as loving as she was, wasn't the touchy-feely type. Her father had been a hugger, but he'd been gone for years now. In the hospital, Jo'd been poked and pro
dded until she thought she'd never long for physical touch again. But she had longed for it, hadn't even realized how much until this moment.

  She walked beside him, wondering what kind of a fool loses her mind over a simple hand-holding. This definitely didn't feel like a typical Tuesday.

  The host led them to a table, and GQ—Carter, she reminded herself—pulled out a chair for her, waited until she sat, and then slid into the seat across from her.

  "Wow," he said. "I can't believe... I was sure you were going to be ugly." He chuckled. "Wow, that makes me sound really shallow."

  A compliment, even if it was somewhat backhanded. She'd take it. "Same here. No photo, so it's the best guess."

  She pulled her gaze away to read the menu. Like she hadn't been here a thousand times. But she had to focus on something besides those amazing blue eyes.

  She forced herself to look up, tried to avoid his face, and found her gaze traveling to his broad chest. Usually when he came into her store, he was dressed in worn blue jeans and a T-shirt or, lately as the temperatures had dropped, a college sweatshirt. He always smelled vaguely of some chemical she couldn't identify. But today he'd worn slacks and a blue button down. He smelled spicy and woodsy and delicious.

  Oy, she had to keep those thoughts to herself.

  The waitress appeared, took their drink orders, and slipped away.

  "So how long have you worked for UPS?" he asked.

  "I started delivering packages right after high school, did that for a year or so."

  "Heavy work, I bet. Are you glad to be in the store now?"

  "It's a lot different. I'm not an employee. I own it."

  His eyebrows lifted. "Really? You're young to own a business."

  She didn't feel young. She felt a million years old.

  The waitress returned with their drinks and took their meal orders. He must've eaten there a lot too, because he rattled his off without looking at the menu—cheeseburger and fries.

  "I'll have the salad with grilled chicken."

  After the server took their menus, he lifted his eyebrows. "I thought you were starving."

  How to explain the need to eat healthy? The inability to eat very much at one time? "I like salad." She'd learned to like it.

  He continued. "Did you always want to own a UPS store?"

  "Isn't that every little girl's dream?"

  He smiled, revealing perfect teeth, and her heart flip-flopped.

  "I sort of fell into it, I guess."

  "Hmm." His smile faded, and he seemed to be trying to figure out how a person could fall into owning a franchise. She could explain her need to do something different. Something over-the-top. Something...adventurous.

  An adventure that didn't actually involve any adventure. That was her life now.

  She could explain, but not today. Maybe never.

  "How about you?" she said. "Ever since you started coming in, I've wondered what you do for a living. I mean, you're always mailing molds." She laughed. "I always imagine old, green bread in your packages."

  He chuckled, a deep joyful sound that made her heart cheer. "I make molds. Mostly fiberglass, but I do other materials sometimes, too."

  "Sounds like an interesting job."

  "I like it. Like you, I work for myself. I spend most of my time in my workshop, but I get to travel some. I get the feeling you'd like to travel."

  Wistfulness flitted through her heart like a hummingbird, sucking out a little nectar of hope before moving on. "Why do you say that?"

  "You always ask me about the places I mail my packages to. Like Shanghai the other day."

  "Right."

  "So have you ever traveled?"

  The past always came on so suddenly. The airport. The ambulance. The hospital. She sipped her iced tea, let the chilly liquid burn away the memories, let the dreams slide back into the dusty corner, where they belonged.

  4

  There was a story there. The way her face had transformed, stunning to terrified in the time it took her to lift her iced tea... There was a story there, and Carter really wanted to know what it was.

  But not today. Because whatever it was, she wasn't ready to tell him. Judging by the fear that still lingered in those beautiful brown eyes, he was afraid he'd ruined their lunch before it started.

  When he'd turned the corner and seen the UPS girl sitting on the bench, his heart had flipped like a kid on a trampoline. He'd been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out for weeks, and there she was, beautiful and available, nervous and uncomfortable. He'd hoped to fix that fast. By the look on her face, he was failing. Badly.

  "How about you?" she said. "Do you enjoy the traveling?"

  "Some." He would, if he could take Sara with him. But how to manage babysitting in a strange city? He'd actually considered hiring a nanny to join them, but that would be awkward, him and Sara and a young babysitter. So Sara stayed with his folks, and he made every trip as short as possible. "I like it here."

  She swallowed, wiped her fingers on her slacks. Looked up and smiled. "How long have you lived here?"

  "I moved here in June. My parents relocated a few years back, and I needed a change of pace. I lost my lease on the workshop I'd been renting in downtown Oklahoma City. Bricktown's expanding, and what had been the industrial part of town was now on the edge of the new up-and-coming area. A stinky mold shop wasn't helping the neighborhood. My parents had been bugging me to try small town life, so..."

  He let the words trail off, afraid he'd say too much. If the idea of traveling made Jo's face pale in fear, he could imagine what the mention of a five-year-old would do. He was enjoying Jo's company far too much to risk ending it already. This dating thing was just to placate his mother anyway, and he wasn't about to risk his daughter's heart—or his own—by bringing a woman into their lives again. Better to leave Sara out of this all together.

  "I've lived here all my life. Honestly, I'm not sure I'd choose it if I had a choice. I always wanted to live in a city. To see the world."

  Her voice hitched on those last words

  "So you bought a UPS franchise in Ross, Oklahoma?"

  "Yeah." She was saved explaining when the waitress arrived with their meals.

  He thanked the server, then watched as Jo picked at the salad, cutting the chicken into tiny bites before daintily placing one in her mouth. She was an enigma, this woman who used to haul boxes for UPS but seemed too breakable to walk a dog. Who worked in shipping but carried herself like a princess. Who clearly wanted to travel yet had saddled herself to a small town.

  He watched her a moment. The way her short hair framed her face, set off her high cheekbones. Her brown eyes were wide, innocent, and sad somehow.

  Jo was a mystery he really wanted to solve.

  She caught him staring and turned slightly pink.

  He ate a few bites of his cheeseburger, then set it on the plate. "How long have you owned the store?"

  "We opened in January."

  "So this'll be your first Christmas season. You think business will pick up?"

  "I hope so. I need it to. The fees aren't as hefty for the small-town franchises, but still, I need to drum up more customers if I want to stay in business." She sipped her tea. "Speaking of which, you know we could come pick up your packages, save you the trip to town."

  Interesting how she'd steered the conversation back to him. "I look forward to my walks into town."

  "You walk, with those big packages?"

  "When they're too big, I drive. But mostly, I like the walk. It gets—" He stopped himself before blurting lonely. "My workshop is quiet when I'm there by myself all day, every day. I look forward to getting away from the fumes and dust."

  "Where is your shop?"

  "On Elm, a couple blocks behind your store."

  "Oh. I didn't realize you were so close."

  "I walk into town most every day for lunch, too. Maybe—"

  His phone rang. He so rarely got phone calls. Most of his business was c
onducted via email, so the ring had him reaching to look. Just in case.

  It was a local number but not his mother. Who else could it be? "I'm sorry. I have to take this."

  She nodded and ate another bite of salad. He stood and walked toward the host's station while he answered. "Carter James."

  "Mr. James. This is Mrs. Buchanan from Ross Elementary. Sara's come down with a fever."

  He sighed, peered across the restaurant at Jo, and said, "I'm on my way." He found the waitress, gave her cash for their meal, then returned to the table and sat. "I'm so sorry. There's an emergency, and I have to go."

  Her gaze hit the phone still in his hand, then the table. "Sure. I get it."

  Uh-oh. "Really, I hate to do this. I already paid for the meal, so..." He should tell her the truth, right now. I have a child, and she's sick. But he wasn't ready for this relationship—such as it was—to be over. He feared his admission would kill it. One more meal, and he'd tell her. Then she'd walk away, and he could go back to his lonely life, and his mother would stay off his back for six months.

  "I understand," Jo said. "My I-have-an-emergency call should come any minute."

  He didn't have time to explain, and he didn't want to lie to her. He'd love to take her hand like he had earlier. Funny how perfectly her delicate fingers had fit with his. But her hands were hidden in her lap.

  He had to go.

  "I'll stop by your store and see if we can try this again. Okay?"

  "Let's just call it a bust. Thanks for lunch."

  5

  Jo spent the first two hours of Thursday visiting antique shops in a nearby town, encouraging them to take advantage of her services. She'd met some fine people and gotten some good feedback. Maybe business would pick up.

  She entered her store's lobby and stared. Empty. Thanksgiving was two weeks away, Christmas a little over six. Customers were supposed to be discovering them by now. She stared around her empty lobby. Maybe this dream was destined to end in flames.