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

by Lacy Williams, Julie Jarnagin, Robin Patchen

  Operation: No Regrets was about to get underway.

  3

  Two weeks later, Morgan took her latte from the college-aged barista at the Coffee Bar and found a seat near the window. Her first potential reunion date would be here soon, and she wanted to get a good look at him when he walked in. RancherJack’s profile picture had been a lovely faraway shot of a man on a horse, but it was no real help in showing her what he looked like. Honestly, it could’ve been anyone in that photo. There were all kinds of creeps on the Internet, and with her luck, chances were good she’d find the worst of them.

  She’d scrolled through page after page of suggested matches but found only three men within fifty miles of Ross. Turned out, OnceUponATom was seventy-eight years old, so even if he was the sweetest guy on the planet, Morgan wasn’t about to show up to her ten-year with a man who was old enough to be her grandfather. The other two were in the right age bracket, but GoatBoy86’s profile, as his user name suggested, was dedicated to showcasing his borderline-obsessive affection for goats of all breeds. RancherJack owned a cattle ranch and listed reading as one of his interests, so by comparison, he was easily the highest on the potential-date meter.

  She and “Jack,” as she’d taken to calling him, had messaged back and forth a couple of times since the reunion girls had signed her up on that ridiculous website. He seemed genuine, though admittedly they hadn’t reached much depth in their conversations. He could’ve been a total nut job for all Morgan knew. But she had been the one to initiate contact with him, so it wasn’t like he’d targeted her. That was positive, right?

  Finding a date shouldn’t be so hard.

  A mature adult probably wouldn’t have agreed to this silly pact at all, but she just couldn’t walk into that reunion alone. Morgan had been such an outsider in high school, so different from everyone else. The weird one with crazy plans that no one put any stock in. It was likely that everyone in their graduating class had heard about how Slater had humiliated her, and they were probably still laughing at her. Going to the reunion with a date would put at least one person on her side. Maybe give the appearance that she had her life figured out. Her other option was to go alone and look completely pathetic. She knew she shouldn’t give a rip what her old classmates thought of her, but high school pressure was hard to shake, even ten years out.

  She mentally talked herself in circles until a black extended-cab pickup parked outside the window and a familiar figure emerged and made his way toward the coffee shop’s entrance.

  The chime sounded as Slater pushed through the door and strode to the counter without looking her way. Her gaze followed him before she thought better of it.

  A black binder was tucked under his left arm. Was that a tiny limp in his gait? Since when did he have that? What kind of injury had caused it?

  And why was she staring at him? She scolded herself and checked her watch. He was an hour early. She’d stacked her meetings with Jack and Slater after the reunion planning meeting, so she could head straight back to the city and forget about all things Ross for the rest of the weekend. The last thing she needed was for Slater to mess with her date, or even know she had one. There’d be no end to the mocking if he found out she was looking for dates online. Ugh, just the thought made her grimace.

  She glanced back at the binder he carried. He must’ve done the same thing she had and scheduled another meeting before theirs. Maybe he’d be preoccupied enough with his own business to stay out of hers.

  He paid for his order and took a cup of coffee from the barista. Morgan looked away before he turned around so as not to make eye contact. Jack would be here any minute. She sipped her latte and stared out the window, willing him to arrive before Slater noticed she was there.

  A beat later, Slater’s black binder landed on her table with a thud. He slid into the seat across from her like he belonged there. “I brought the food bank paperwork.” He pulled the application from the binder’s front pocket and held it out to her.

  She didn’t take it. “I have another meeting scheduled before ours.”

  Some kind of shadow flitted behind his eyes. He glanced around, seemingly uncomfortable for an instant, but his usual brashness quickly replaced it. “Who are you meeting? You got a hot date?” He wiggled his eyebrows like a junior high kid. This was the Slater she remembered.

  She gave him a deadpan stare as she snatched the papers from his hand. She scanned the document for all the proper entries and signatures, then leaned down to slip it into the folio inside the bag at her feet.

  When she sat back up, he’d flipped open the cover of the binder.

  Morgan’s gaze pinged from the coffee shop door to the window to him. “What are you doing? Our meeting’s not for another hour.” She did not want to be sitting with Slater when Jack walked in. How would that look?

  “We’re already here. May as well take care of business until your handsome suitor gets here.”

  She ignored his attempt to bait her. If she reacted, he’d know he was onto something.

  “I’ll talk fast,” he said. “Then we can both get on with our weekends.” He turned the binder so it faced Morgan. “Behold, good deeds numbers one through eleven.”

  “You’re really doing this?” She’d only agreed to this good deeds thing so he’d leave her alone that day at the Community Center, and that was all she wanted now, too. Nothing he did would make up for the humiliation and loss he’d inflicted on her ten years ago.

  “You really doubted me?” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he pointed to the first page. Inside the clear plastic sleeve was a standard sheet of paper with two photos printed on it. A black numeral “1” was in the upper right corner.

  Morgan opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t want to have this ridiculous conversation, but the pictures on the page grabbed her attention. The first was a snowy landscape of a pond with a duck on it. The second was a close-up of Slater holding, she assumed, said duck. Curiosity got the best of her. “You did a good deed for a duck?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The pond was frozen, and he was stuck. Poor guy hurt his foot trying to get free.”

  Morgan studied the close-up picture. Slater’s goofy, scrunched up face next to the duck almost elicited a chuckle, but she clamped her mouth shut before it could escape. What was wrong with her?

  “Number two.” Slater flipped the page. “Sponsored a free snack at the Rec. Center.” The photo showed a vending machine with a five-dollar bill taped to it, along with a note for a passer-by to enjoy a treat.

  The next picture showed a petite, smiling gray-haired woman next to an old green pick-up. The tailgate was down and the bed was stacked full of sacks from the Piggly Wiggly. “Number three,” Slater said. “Loaded and unloaded all of Old Lady Schneider’s groceries.”

  Patsy Schneider was well known in Ross as a doomsday prepper, had been for as long as Morgan could remember. “She still hoarding canned goods in her underground bunker?”

  “Yep, and I lost count of how many gallons of water. My back was sore for two days.”

  Turning the page again, he groaned. “I should get double credit for this one.” He tapped the picture with his index finger.

  A red-haired, freckle-faced boy—Morgan guessed him to be about three years old—glared up from the paper. His eyes were squinty, little brows drawn together, and his arms were crossed tightly over his shirtless chest. She could almost hear the tantrum about to explode from his tiny body. “He looks like a little sweetie,” she said, inwardly smiling as she imagined Slater going toe-to-toe with the angry toddler. If anyone could beat Slater Hensley at his own game, a three year-old menace might have the best shot.

  “He’s a little something,” Slater said. “Sweet would not be the—”

  Morgan glanced up to see why he’d stopped mid sentence. His gaze was fixed on something outside the coffee shop window and behind her. She turned to see what he was looking at, but nothing seemed out of place. Cars coming and going on Main St
reet. Patrons visiting shops and businesses.

  By the time she turned back to Slater, he was out of his chair and headed for the door. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said over his shoulder. “I need to take care of something.”

  Outside the coffee shop, he jogged past the window and continued down the sidewalk. Morgan craned her neck and leaned against the glass, which was chilled from the cold outside, to keep an eye on him. He ran past the hardware store and Peggy’s Dress Shop and then turned left, disappearing into the alleyway by the First National Bank.

  Morgan watched the alley’s entrance for several minutes. What in the world was going on?

  Finally, Slater emerged looking furious and hauling a dark-haired man toward the coffee shop. The man struggled to walk in a straight line. Every few feet he’d stumble, and Slater would grip a fistful of the man’s denim jacket to hold him up. The closer they got to the coffee shop, the more pronounced and rigid Slater’s features became. His usual humor and mischief had faded, and he was all business.

  When they reached Slater’s truck, he opened the passenger door and shoved the man inside. Then he stalked around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and drove away.

  A slew of questions filled Morgan’s mind. How did Slater know that man? Where was he taking him? Would he come back to the coffee shop to finish their meeting? Not that they had anything else pressing to discuss, and not that she wanted him to, but he’d left his binder and a half-full cup of coffee.

  She flipped through the remaining pages of the binder. There were various photos of people wearing big smiles. A swing set. An adorable puppy. A man on a tractor. She could only guess at what good deed he’d done for each one, but a ray of warmth shot through her without permission. He’d made some people—and animals, apparently—quite happy.

  But what did that prove? Were a thousand good deeds enough to make up for everything he’d cost her? On top of that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was never sincere. Even when he seemed to be on the surface, something inside her said she was being played and she’d better wise up before he took her to town all over again.

  Knowing him, all this drama was just part of some great plan to sabotage her date.

  Her date! With all the excitement, she’d completely forgotten about Jack. He was already thirty minutes late, so if he hadn’t been kidnapped or otherwise detoured by Slater, he’d better have a good reason for standing her up. Normally, that would be enough for Morgan to disqualify a man, but since her only other option was GoatBoy86, she might be willing to give Jack a little extra grace.

  * * *

  Slater managed to rein in his anger enough to get Jimmy safely to his house on the outer edge of town, and then he had to spend nearly an hour calming Teresa, who was understandably distraught over her husband’s drunken display. Jimmy had worked on Slater’s ranch for nearly four years, and up until recently, he’d been an excellent employee. But the past few months, he’d tested Slater’s patience on several occasions—showing up late, leaving chores undone, and now being drunk as a skunk on Main Street when he should’ve been at work for at least another hour.

  Slater would give him time to sober up, and then they were going to have a little chat. If Jimmy couldn’t straighten himself out, he could forget about having a job on the ranch. Slater’s dad had always set high standards of integrity for his employees, and Slater had every intention of carrying on that legacy.

  By the time Slater got back to the coffee shop, Morgan was gone. Of course she was. It wasn’t realistic to think she’d sit around and wait for a man she could barely stand, but disappointment still settled in his gut when he found their table empty. Disappointment, along with that acidic geyser of guilt that had been spewing lately.

  He should’ve told Morgan the truth. Confessed that he was the one she’d been messaging online. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to deceive her, but when she’d shown up at the food pantry meeting one day, and then messaged him through the dating site the next, he’d taken it as a sign. Not a single blip of Morgan Drake on his radar for ten years, and then she shows up twice within twenty-four hours? It reminded him of something his mom had always said. When God wants to teach you something, He’ll keep bringing it to your attention until you do something about it. So he’d decided to do something about it.

  But instead of making things better, he’d only managed to create another mess for himself. He’d planned to come clean with her today, but the thing with Jimmy happened and Slater had no choice but to deal with it immediately.

  A fresh wave of anger at Jimmy rolled through him and he scrubbed a hand down his face.

  “Are you Mr. Hensley?” The young barista called from behind the pastry case.

  Slater turned, nodding.

  “That cool lady with the blue hair said you might be back to pick these up.” The girl reached beneath the cash register and pulled out his binder and cup of now cold coffee.

  “Thanks.” He took the items from the counter. “Did she say anything else?”

  “Nope. She waited around for a while and then took off.”

  He pictured Morgan sitting at that table, waiting for a guy who didn’t exist, and the guilt multiplied.

  It was going to take more than twenty-five good deeds to atone for all his wrongs. This had started as a dumb dare to himself, to get her to forgive him and make things right, but with each good deed he’d completed and documented, she’d been on his mind. Which meant she’d been on his mind a lot.

  And maybe the crush he’d had back in high school had come back to life, too.

  4

  Another two weeks passed and Morgan found herself in Ross yet again.

  She was supposed to meet Slater to walk through the food pantry refrigeration and freezer space, but he had called at the last minute and said he couldn’t make it. A winter storm was blowing in, and he had to make preparations for his livestock. Apparently one of his ranch hands had failed to show up for work.

  Slater had arranged for one of the Community Center staff members to let Morgan in to inspect the space, but she needed to get Slater’s signature on some more paperwork, so she’d agreed to stop by his ranch on her way back to the city. The wind and sleet were already kicking up, though, so she’d need to head out as quickly as possible.

  She’d never been out to his property before. Even though she'd grown up around here, she'd steered clear of all the farms and backwoods roads that wound around the outskirts of Ross. As a teenager, she'd never fit in, so she seized every weekend opportunity to steal away to Oklahoma City. When that wasn’t possible, she holed up in her bedroom to draw or paint.

  Following the directions Slater had given, she turned right onto a red-dirt road and passed through the gate under a wrought iron archway. The words Rolling Oak Ranch curved along the top of the arch in an old Western style font. Why did that name sound familiar? Was this where Slater had lived during high school? Surely not. He’d have his own place by now, wouldn’t he? She tried to recall what she’d known about him back in high school, but there wasn’t much to draw on. He’d been the town’s football star and class clown, but facts beyond that were a blur.

  Tall, sturdy oak trees lined the road, and she drove up a gradual incline under their canopies for at least a quarter mile before the landscape opened into a clearing. An old farmhouse with a white wraparound porch was nestled into the gently rolling hills, and the simple beauty of the scene captivated her.

  She followed a tire-tracked path through the grass and parked at the side of the house. Grabbing the folder from the passenger seat, she braced for the cold and trekked quickly and carefully through the sleet to the front porch.

  She knocked and heard a woman’s voice call from inside. There was a woman in Slater’s house?

  Seconds later, the door opened. “Come in, come in.” A petite woman with sandy-blond hair and warm brown eyes smiled as she ushered Morgan inside. “Get on in here out of the cold. It’s miserable out there.”

&nbs
p; “Thank you.” Morgan wiped her shoes on the rug by the door and ran a hand over her hair and face.

  “You must be Morgan. I’m Bonnie, Slater’s mom.”

  Ah, his mother. Morgan could see the resemblance now. “I just have some food pantry paperwork for him. It should only take a minute, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Nonsense, we love company around here. Let me take your coat.” Bonnie had Morgan’s coat off of her before she could form any sort of protest. She hung it on a peg by the door and hooked her elbow through Morgan’s as though they’d been best friends for years. “Come to the kitchen and I’ll make you a cup of hot cocoa to sip on while we wait for Slater to come up from the barn.”

  The kitchen was light and airy, even though the sky outside the windows was dark. Bonnie grabbed a walkie-talkie from the counter and pressed the button to speak into it. “Slater, honey, your lady friend is here.”

  Lady friend? Hardly.

  “Be right there.” Slater released the button on the radio. He hunkered into his coat and tugged his Stetson lower on his head, but neither did much to protect him. The wind drove freezing rain beneath his hat’s wide brim and it struck his face like tiny shards of glass. His fingers were losing feeling inside his gloves, and he could see each breath as it emerged from his burning lungs.

  The walkie-talkie beeped again. “She is a beautiful young woman, isn’t she?” Mom asked. “Just lovely.”

  Warmth stirred in Slater’s chest as he imagined Morgan in his house. Was she where she could hear his reply? For an instant, he thought about giving a more diplomatic answer so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable, but then decided to go with the gut-honest truth. “She sure is. Absolutely captivating.” Too bad he’d ruined any chance of being friends with her back in high school. But maybe he could change that now.

  He tossed the last hay bale from the bed of his truck and then drove toward the house. The wind blew harder by the minute, pelting ice against his windshield. It’d take Morgan forever to get back to the city in this mess. The roads would be getting slick by now. He should’ve told her they could do the paperwork another time.