Perfectly Matched: ...And the Rest of the Matchmaking Chef Books

by Maddie James

  “It is nice, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve worked hard to get it exactly the way you want.”

  Nodding, she smiled, glancing about. “I know. And patience is not always my virtue, but I was willing to wait to get exactly what I wanted.” She pulled a rack of biscotti out of the oven.

  “Well, you’re doing so well. And that award!”

  Sydney’s heart fluttered at the mention. Her toes hadn’t hit the ground for days after she’d been notified. At the thought, her chest swelled with twitterings. She was about to launch into an excited response, when the bells on the door tumbled again signaling either that someone had left, or come in.

  Suzie was up to her elbows in flour, kneading that yeast dough for the cinnamon rolls.

  “I’ll check,” Sydney told her.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, she peeked into the store and saw no one. Then, moving further in, she glanced around the corner to where Mystery Man had been sitting, wondering if he had left.

  Something icky landed in the pit of her stomach.

  Mystery Man, indeed, was still there. And so was Chelly’s husband, Matt, Legend’s own Barney Fife—and she meant that in a good way—standing over him as he sat at his table.

  And she wouldn’t have been so alarmed, had Mystery Man not abruptly stood, and shouted.

  Chapter Two

  “Oh, dear Lord.”

  If she had counted the steps it took her to race to Matt’s side, she would have said it might have been three. Or maybe even, two. She leapt like a startled deer crossing the road.

  “Matt! Matt! Oh, hello, Matt!”

  Why am I repeating myself?

  Matt spun as she grasped his elbow. “Well, hello, Matt!” The repeating again. “Fancy seeing you here this morning?”

  The local cop eyed her. “Sydney, I’m in here every morning. In fact, I was in here this morning. Your first customer, as usual.”

  She gave him a slow nod and hooked her arm at his elbow. “Yes! And that is why I’m surprised. Coffee?” If she had to drag him away, she would. Mystery Man was her best customer so far today. She didn’t want to lose him.

  Matt uncurled her arm from his. “Syd, I’m here on business. Not coffee.”

  “Seems I’m loitering.”

  Sydney looked to MM, who had said those words, then back to Matt. “What?”

  “Got an anonymous call, Syd. Said there was a mysterious loiterer here at the bakery.”

  Shooting her gaze across the room, she just caught Suzie’s strawberry blonde mane ducking back into the kitchen. “Noooooo…”

  To Matt, she then said, “Mistake. No loiterers here.”

  “But this guy?”

  “My best customer all day!”

  Sydney sidled up to MM and smiled. She even went so far as to give him a Southern Belle-like pat on the arm. “Oh, puh-lease, Matt. He simply loves my scones!”

  Turning, she practically tucked the man back into his seat. “Never you mind now, you hear? Stay as long as you like. Oh, my goodness. Your coffee cup is empty again.” She reached for it. “Let me go fill that up and...”

  MM’s hand circled her wrist, stopping her. Hot, his palm was hot. Suddenly, it was like she was having a hot flash. Except she was too young for a hot flash. Still, he was hot…

  “That’s fine, ma’am. No worries. I was just leaving.” His gaze skittered across hers.

  With that, he pulled a couple of dollars out of his pocket and deposited them on the table. Glancing up, he tipped his ball cap toward Sydney, and skidded his gaze past Matt as he passed. The jingles on the door sounded his exit.

  For a moment, Sydney was held spellbound by his touch, and that brief connection they’d made with their eyes.

  Oh. Boy.

  Blowing out a pent up sigh, Sydney looked at Matt, and then shouted, “Suzie Matthews! Get your fanny out here. Now!”

  ****

  Stone made a beeline to his car. Head down. Hands pushed deep into his jeans pockets.

  His brain rattling through the revelations of the past hour or so—macadamia nut flour, Grand Marnier, and something tart—and that damned local shop cop and the innocent Southern Belle routine of Miss Sydney.

  At least she had saved him.

  He chuckled to himself and smiled.

  He was going to have to be more careful. The cop didn’t appear to be an accidental thing. Had someone reported him hanging around? He’d not thought anyone in this Podunk town had even noticed his presence.

  Should have known better. He was from a Podunk town, himself, deep in the heart of Georgia. Podunk town people always notice newcomers. He’d been living anonymously in the city for way too long.

  “Careful, Stone,” he said out loud, then fished his car keys out of his pocket. He clicked the key fob to unlock the door, crossed the parking lot next to the library, and glanced over his shoulder toward the bakery.

  Sydney, and that cop, and that redheaded friend of hers were outside standing on the sidewalk, facing the bakery, looking up over the door. His gaze traveled up, too.

  Best Scones in the South, the banner above the door read. There was small print below that, he knew. Southern’s Best magazine had awarded Sydney their coveted scone aware. Just looking at it made his stomach roil.

  Then the redhead sidled her gaze his way and stared.

  Yes, he was going to have to be careful.

  ****

  Closing her eyes, Sydney sank into her tub, bubbles up to her neck, warm, bordering on hot water, swirling from the jets surrounding her, and a nice glass of Pinot Noir sitting on the edge of the tub. Billie Holiday crooned I’ll Be Seeing You from her stereo in the bedroom. Billie’s distinctive voice, the tickle of ivory, and the bluesy instrumental rolled over her body, lulling her into a definite state of tired bliss.

  I’ll be seeing you.

  Mystery Man’s eyes suddenly swept into her head. Her eyes flashed open, and she sat up a little. Even immersed in hot water, she suddenly got the shivers.

  What if Suzie was right? What if he truly was a stalker? Although she couldn’t imagine such a thing, she had to wonder why he was here in Legend.

  The man had appeal. She had to admit that. And she liked his looks. Tall, nice build, carried himself with assurance. Maybe she’d just ask around. Everybody knows everybody in Legend. Surely someone knows who he is. And maybe, just maybe, he’s somebody’s visiting cousin who just likes coffee and scones.

  But he picked apart that scone like he was dissecting a frog in a high school biology class.

  Weird.

  Sometimes people just eat like that, she justified. She had a boyfriend once who would only eat one thing at a time on his plate. Turned out he was a bit on the bi-polar side, that one, but a nice guy.

  She swallowed. Who was she kidding? The old boyfriend ended up drinking himself into oblivion, and they put him away when he assaulted a woman on the street in Pigeon Forge.

  Shit.

  But that had nothing to do with MM. Nothing. She was just letting her imagination get the better of her. MM was a tourist, likely. Sometimes when people come to the Smokies they don’t like to stay in Gatlinburg or even Pigeon Forge. They like to be on the fringes. Usually they stay at the Lodge.

  But this guy?

  She sat straight up again, sloshing a little water and some bubbles to the floor.

  “Is he staying at the Lodge?”

  Her brain raced. Where else would he stay in town? There are no hotels, except for the B&B, and Suzie would know if he was staying there. Unless he was staying with friends or family, he had to be at the Lodge.

  She slid back into the water. “Okay, that’s it. Tomorrow morning when Suzie and I deliver the pastries to the Lodge, I’ll scope out the guests at that writer’s retreat. That has to be it. He’s a writer. He’s just visiting. He’s checking out the local haunts. Maybe he’s a travel writer or something, or… Or, a food critic.”

  A gurgle of excitement burst up insider her. A food
editor!

  She’d already snagged a little fame from Southern’s Best magazine. Perhaps, someone else was interested in featuring her?

  “Oh, Suzie, my dear, you are so wrong. The guy is not a stalker, he’s doing some subtle research on my bakery. Hot damn!”

  She slapped the water, feeling very confident and happy with herself, having worked through this loitering/stalker dilemma on her own. This had to be the reason he was checking her out.

  Had to.

  She closed her eyes again and settled her head back against the tub. Almost immediately, her cell phone rang, and she reached to the small table next to the tub to punch the speakerphone button.

  “Hello?”

  “Sydney?”

  “Yeah, hey Suze. Guess what? I have this thing figured out.” She smiled up at the ceiling, picturing Suzie on the other end in her mind.

  “Sydney, bad news. Brace yourself.”

  The image popped away, and Sydney opened her eyes. “What?”

  “He’s in jail.”

  “Who?”

  “Your stalker.”

  Confusion scrambled her brain. “What?”

  “Matt arrested him.”

  “Oh, Suzie. What did you and Matt do?” If they screwed up her chance at another magazine interview, she would disown them forever!

  The voice on the other end grew louder. “Listen to me, Sydney. Your stalker! The man with the scones this morning. Matt took him in. He’s in jail. Found him sneaking around in the alley behind the bakery trying to peek in the back windows, just ten minutes ago.”

  A strange buzzing shot through Sydney’s ears.

  Her apartment sat directly above the bakery.

  Chapter Three

  “What a joke.”

  Stone studied the cinderblock walls around him and rose to grasp the iron bars that separated his jail cell from the hallway. The time was somewhere past nine in the evening, and he’d been tossed in the clink about twenty minutes earlier by Deputy Do-Right. He shook the bars a little, just to test their strength.

  Secure enough, he supposed, for the kinds of criminals they got around here.

  The kind, of course, he was not. He wasn’t a criminal at all, just a man trying to save his business.

  Huffing out a quick breath, he pushed back and paced from one side of the cell to another. What in the hell was he thinking?

  Well, he knew exactly what he was thinking. It had occurred to him earlier that evening that people in Podunk towns are way too trusting. And that sometimes, they even leave their doors and windows unlocked.

  That’s all he was thinking.

  Nothing really major. Just a little minor breaking and entering. Hey, if the door was unlocked, did it really count?

  Did a goat have teeth?

  Evidently, Legend wasn’t exactly that kind of town. Not in this day and age, anyway. The bakery was shut up tighter than a drum. Oh, he’d rattled a couple of windows and jerked on the back door handle once or twice, but to no avail. And it wasn’t like he was really going to steal anything, he just wanted a glimpse of the scone recipe.

  Just a glimpse.

  Or perhaps some of the ingredients would be stored on a counter, and he could do a quick survey.

  That wasn’t stealing, was it? Just to look?

  Except, he did have a photographic memory and intellectual capital notwithstanding… He hadn’t had time to contemplate it all, though, because that’s when Deputy Do-Right had crept up behind him in his cruiser and turned his light beam on him.

  Busted.

  This wasn’t good. The last thing he needed was bad publicity. The very last thing.

  Voices rose up from the outer office. A woman’s. A man’s. The deputy, he assumed. Then the woman again. Didn’t sound like she was too happy.

  The man argued back. Happiness wasn’t on his agenda, either, he could tell.

  Then footsteps. Quick ones. Coming closer. Smaller ones, then louder ones, all followed by the back and forth of the voices.

  Standing close to the iron bars now, he leaned toward the hallway to see if he could get a better hearing and seeing position.

  That’s when the blonde popped around the corner, and that’s when he took in the midnight blue of Sydney Schul’s eyes for the second time that day.

  He gulped.

  “Release him.”

  Sydney stopped square in front of the cell. She bit the words out to the deputy but looked straight at him.

  “Get him the hell out of there.”

  “But Sydney, he was poking around outside your place.”

  “The man just likes my scones.” She peered into his eyes. “Right? You just like my scones, right?”

  He had no clue why she was defending him. “Yes, of course. Your coffee and your scones. Ms. Schul, let me explain.”

  She waved him off. “No need.” Turning to Matt, she added, “It was my property he was messing around on, and I’m not pressing charges. Release him, Matt.”

  “But, Syd…”

  “Do it. Now.”

  Stone pursed his lips and waited. Last thing he wanted at the moment was to look a gift horse in the mouth. He could play this game.

  He cast his gaze first on Sydney, then Matt, and back again to Sydney.

  “Well?” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. That was kind of cute. He wanted to smile, but didn’t.

  Deputy Do-Right reached into his pocket. “If you say so, Sydney, but Suzie is going to…”

  “I do say so, and never mind about Suzie Matthews, I’m calling the shots here.”

  “All right.”

  Matt pushed they old key into the lock, and within seconds, the door crept open.

  “Thank you,” Stone said, tipping his head toward Sydney. “I’ll be on my way now. I’ve caused enough excitement tonight.” He slipped between the cop and the woman, ready for a quick getaway.

  Would he be so lucky?

  “Wait a minute, Buster,” she said. “I’m not finished with you, yet.”

  Um, guess not.

  ****

  His car had been impounded, Matt said, when they took the guy into the station. The impound lot was out on Spicer Road, near the mountain side of town. It was a place people really didn’t want to go at night. Secluded. Dark. A little spooky. And there was that old, creepy story about the roaming spirits of lovers who had leapt to their depths near there, at a notorious Lover’s Leap up on Legend Mountain. Matt had said he’d take the man out there to pick up his vehicle, but Sydney put her foot down real hard and told him flat out, “No.”

  To hell with legends and lore and things that go bump in the night. She had some schmoozing to do, and then some. The last thing she needed was for the town of Legend to put a bad taste in this food editor’s mouth.

  Now, here she was, close to midnight and driving into No Man’s Land with a male stranger in her passenger seat whom everyone thought was a stalker, and she had just sprung him out of jail as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Not making a lot of sense here, Sydney, she chided herself.

  Nevertheless, she needed to keep a level head. If her suspicions were correct, and this man was a food editor for a major food magazine, or a network television show, or a foodie Web site or something, she had to keep him happy.

  And happily in scones and coffee, if need be.

  “I’m very sorry about all this,” she told him, staring straight ahead. “My apologies for the town, the police force, the universe, whatever. Totally uncalled for.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you for getting me out of there, however.”

  “No problem. Glad to do it.”

  He cleared his throat. “Actually, I was snooping around.”

  She gripped the steering wheel tighter and said a prayer.

  “Oh?”

  He didn’t immediately respond. With her fingers firmly wrapped around the wheel, she negotiated a slight curve, the beams of her headlights playing over the skeleton
s of trees alongside the road, and glanced his way.

  He sat looking straight at her.

  Her lips went dry.

  He didn’t look like a stalker, she assured herself. He was actually a very nice looking man.

  If he looked menacing, or sported a sinister tic like squinting his eyes at her or something, she could more easily consider him a bad guy, but as it was, he just looked rather normal.

  And hunky, too.

  She wondered what color his hair was, always covered up under that ball cap. It was short, whatever the color.

  Same thing about his eyes. Always hidden.

  But maybe he doesn’t want you to see his eyes, Sydney. Eyes reveal things. Bad things. Windows to the soul. Bad soul.

  Stop it, Sydney.

  Man, was she conflicted.

  “I was curious, actually.”

  Curious?

  Crap.

  Sounded like something a stalker would say.

  “Um. About?”

  She waited. What would she do if he said something like, about how you would look with a noose around your neck while I’m having my way with you and peeling the skin off your back with a paring knife.

  Her tummy went all riffle-y.

  “Oh, well... about your kitchen, actually. Loved your scone, by the way, and the coffee. You were baking a lot today, and I’m sort of a food buff, and I love seeing how other people set up their kitchens, so, I thought I’d sneak a peek in your back door or window. Just curious, mind you. But...”

  Ah, ha!

  She smiled.

  Knew it. Knew it, knew it, knew it.

  He had food editor written all over him. Gotcha!

  “If you had asked, I would have given you the grand tour.”

  He pondered that. “Really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Perhaps I can take a rain check on that?”

  Sydney spotted the sign for the impound lot and pulled off onto a darkish side road. Rain check. “Oh, well, sure.”

  Really Sydney? Are you sure?

  Of course I am.

  There was a little, shack-like building close to the gate, and the guy who watched over the lot was supposed to be there waiting for them. He lived just down the road. Even though she was convinced the guy sitting next to her was safe now, the spooky, dark, tree-covered lane was a mite unsettling.