She’d always felt more like a trapped animal. A forgotten trapped animal, maybe. But a free spirit?
Did he really think of her like that? “Enough about me, Ty. What can’t you forget?”
His gaze tracked to her and locked on so that she held her breath, wondering if she’d crossed one of those imaginary lines again. It was something she always seemed to do with him. But she knew his history, knew his dark past, not because she’d researched his father, but because he’d told her that summer when they’d dated, when she had been more important than hockey.
“All of my bad decisions.” Ty reached over and adjusted her scarf up around her chin. “Remind me that I can’t have what I want. I didn’t deserve it then. And I don’t deserve it now. I’ve made peace with my lot in life.”
If that was the truth, then why was there a wistful note in his voice?
“What do you want, K.J.? Besides my story,” he said, turning the tables on her, taking her hand and tucking her glove up under her jacket sleeve. “What does that carefree girl I used to know want? I figured you’d be living in the Lower 48 and traveling the world like your family.”
“We don’t share the same definition of stability.” Or home. She’d never fit into her family’s lifestyle. “I have an apartment in the city with a view of the bay.”
“City reporter. City apartment. City life.” Ty pulled away from her, leaned back and stacked his hands behind his head again. “Sounds as if you have it all.”
“Not yet.” But she would when she made her next headline. “You should try life outside K-Bay.”
“What’s out there that I don’t already have here?” Ty asked.
Me.
A traitorous thought, immediately discarded. Kelsey blamed it on the ice and the star-dusted sky and the man sitting next to her.
“You were meant to be more. So much more.” They were meant to be more. There had to be more than this. For him. For them. There had to be more than one moment in a penalty box, one moment on the ice every seven years.
What was she thinking? They didn’t even have this moment. She needed to expose his secrets to save her hide. This would become one of Ty’s need-to-forget moments. She huddled beneath the blanket and watched the players on the ice.
The whistle cut into her thoughts. Clarence shouted, “Ty, you can get out of there.”
“Views good in here,” Ty called back with a sly half grin that sent Kelsey’s heart sliding across the smooth ice along with the ball.
She had to recover her focus. Be the heartless reporter with killer instincts. “You should be pleased at the potential matches.”
“Who do you think has potential for a second date at tomorrow’s event?” Ty asked.
“Holly and Charlie,” Kelsey answered. “But it won’t last more than a week.”
“Because he’ll trip and give himself a concussion.” Ty grinned, a full one this time.
“That could happen, or more likely they’ll realize they have nothing in common beyond good physical taste. They both appreciate fine-looking, well-toned bodies.”
“Wow, that’s shallow.” His grin faded.
Despite being a closet romantic, Kelsey was a glass-half-empty pessimist. Didn’t he read her column? “I’m not saying they don’t have lovely personalities. They’re just hung up on the image of what their significant other should look like.”
“Who would you pair Charlie with?” Ty asked.
“Summer.”
“The whimsical ‘I listen to harp music and look for fairies in the forest’ Summer?” Ty rolled his head to stare at her. “You can’t be serious.”
“Yes, very. Charlie took over his family’s logging business—he could use a bit of Summer’s whimsy so he doesn’t have an early heart attack like his dad. And Summer needs him to keep her grounded. They’d balance each other out.” Kelsey crossed her arms over her chest and flopped back onto the bench. “And I’d put Eleanor with Trent.”
“No.” His reply was swift. Instant.
“Why not?” Kelsey twisted to look at him. “Eleanor puts in more hours a week at the day-care center than anyone else. She needs someone to take care of her. Trent lost his father last year. He could use a break himself.”
“Eleanor needs someone who won’t tire of her quirks within a year.” His mouth was firm. His chin was set. Every part of his body broadcast end of discussion.
She gave him this one. “You’ve really put some thought into this.”
“I’m a matchmaker. Isn’t that my responsibility?” Ty’s voice had boundary ruffling all over it.
“Why the sudden interest in playing Cupid?” Kelsey watched Tilda lean over the sidewall and give Clarence a kiss on his papery cheek before he blew the whistle.
“Because I’m a romantic at heart.” Ty stood. “Your time is up, Ms. Nash. Thank you for the interview. You know the rules. If you want another, you need to find more bachelorettes.”
He exited the penalty box, leaving Kelsey to speculate how he’d managed to get the upper hand.
She stared at her duct-taped stick. Had she just been charmed out of an interview? Had any of what he’d said been real? Her heart wanted to believe there was something between them, but she was a Nash. She was more likely to believe in the bottom line. And yet, she was smiling.
The game ended in a tie, according to the ref. But the women decided one of their goals did in fact count and declared themselves the victors. The men declared a forfeit and called for the game to be rescheduled the following week. Same time. Same place.
Brooms returned and no injuries reported, the group gathered around the fire pits located inside a massive open-walled lodge that offered some protection from the elements. Tilda brought over chocolate bars, graham crackers and several bags of marshmallows that she set on one of the picnic tables. The long skewers she set on the rock ledge surrounding the fire pit. “You’re all old enough to assemble these on your own.”
The group offered a collective thank-you and crowded around the table, everyone offering their suggestions and tips on how to make the perfect s’mores. Gideon strode in, his customary tie in place, laptop in one hand and a stack of papers in the other. Coop and Ty announced their computer-generated matches. Kelsey’s name wasn’t among them.
Kelsey backed away, away from the warmth of the second fire pit. She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. Her editor had favorited the post about Ty. Not only her editor. Several others at the Beat. Even the editor-in-chief.
She was reclaiming her place in her world. But for the first time, she wondered if it was the life she wanted.
CHAPTER SIX
TY LEANED BACK in the office chair he’d wheeled out from the iceplex and set his boots on the rock wall of the fire pit, propping one ankle on top of the other. He pulled the last marshmallow from the bag and popped it in his mouth. One less thing to clean up before tomorrow morning and peewee open skate.
“I kept hoping Kelsey’s story was about Trinity Matchmaking.” Coop tore apart Tilda’s last pretzel and dipped the pieces in hot mustard at the picnic table. “She posted about you on social media.”
“You know what she was really after.” Ty still felt a step ahead of her. Although sitting in the penalty box, he’d noticed a few distracting things. He’d noticed the small dimple in her left cheek peeking out when she laughed, the clear brown of her eyes when he teased her and the gentle tone of her voice when she spoke of their past. He tossed a twig in the fire and watched the flames consume the branch, wishing it was as easy to incinerate his mistakes.
“Anything Kelsey writes is old news.” Gideon unwrapped a chocolate bar and snapped off a piece. “Let her write about Ty. She can’t hurt him or us.”
She could if she uncovered Ty’s last secret—the reason he’d been injured. And that t
idbit would undermine his friends’ dreams of hockey careers in the Lower 48. He rubbed both hands over his face, wishing he could erase his fatal fascination with Kelsey. “Old news, new twist, wider audience. Look how many hits her social media posting got. That was only a teaser.”
“She could surprise you and write a success story.” Obviously Coop was still in happy baby mode. “A column about how you rose above your past and helped us all achieve our goals and ambitions.”
“You need to get your head in the game. Not everyone holds hands, skipping around the campfire while singing nursery songs.” Ty’s boots smacked against the stone foundation. He stood, letting the chair roll into the picnic table.
“People change.” Coop shrugged and stuffed another bite of pretzel in his mouth.
“Not people like Kelsey.” Or himself. If he had really changed, he wouldn’t still want Kelsey Nash. He’d always craved the things that were bad for him. Like father, like son, he supposed. Ty paced around the fire pit.
“Maybe we can make the matches before Kelsey’s column breaks.” Gideon spread the surveys across the picnic table. “We have some very well-matched couples this time.”
Ty walked over to the table, reading the names until he found his whimsical fairy chaser and Charlie. He compared the two surveys. Not one of their answers matched. Their compatibility factor: a resounding zero. And Kelsey wanted to match them? He crumbled up the surveys and tossed them both in the fire.
Gideon frowned at him. “Did you have to do that? Those are our records.”
“You have the information loaded on your laptop.” Ty picked up Eleanor’s survey. They’d find her a match, but it would not be Kelsey’s suggestion. Kelsey knew nothing about K-Bay people. “Which couples does the computer recommend we match up?”
Gideon opened his laptop and tapped on the screen. “Collin, from the mixer, and Stacey ranked a compatibility factor of 8.75. And tonight, Charlie and Holly.”
“Perfect on paper,” Ty muttered.
“I saw Holly and Charlie together earlier.” Coop rubbed a napkin over his face. “There’s a good possibility in that pairing.”
“It won’t last.” Ty tossed candy wrappers into the fire. “If they ring that bell, it’ll be only for show.” Coach would see through it. And Kelsey would have the last laugh when they ended it the following week.
“It might be worth putting them together again,” Gideon said. “Just to see.”
“No, find another pair.” He wasn’t about to explain that Kelsey had already mentioned their incompatibility for the long haul. Or that he agreed with her assessment.
Coop gave him a funny look. Thankfully Gideon was too occupied with his survey results to notice. Coop asked, “How about Jason and Nadine?”
“Fine. Send them invites to the ice fishing.” Ty stared at the fire. “We need more women.”
“If you hadn’t chased Kelsey out of here, we could’ve asked her where she found the women she invited tonight,” Coop said.
Ty already knew that answer. “From my past. I took Summer out to dinner once. Holly and I went to the movies.”
“Wait.” Coop leaned forward. “All of them?”
Ty nodded.
“But...” Gideon looked stricken. “Eleanor?”
Ty shrugged. “She asked for my help fixing her fence. We had coffee.” He didn’t mention Stacey’s dad had been his physical therapist after the accident. If Kelsey could figure that out in one day, what would she find in his past given two weeks? That marshmallow seemed to have stretched from his throat to his stomach, making his voice stick as if he’d swallowed glue. “We need to find our own pool of women from now on.”
“Unless Stan has a sister we don’t know about or Fannie has a cousin we haven’t met, we’re stuck with the women we know.” Gideon gathered the paperwork.
“Add Charlie and Holly to the fishing invite list.” Coop shot his crumpled napkin into the fire and looked at Ty. “We need to even out our odds.”
Ty checked his watch. “Gideon, can you create a flyer tonight?” At his friend’s nod, Ty added, “I’ll drive over to Cove Creek in the morning and hand them out.”
“Aren’t you opening here tomorrow?” Coop asked.
“Fannie can handle it until I get back.” Ty rubbed a hand through his hair. “I need to get away. If only to do a little solo fishing before tomorrow night.”
His friends agreed.
“Then, we have a game plan. Not even Kelsey Nash can stop us,” Coop said. “Here’s to reeling in more love than fish.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
KELSEY’S TEASER POST had been seen, liked and shared by hockey fans and Alaska residents alike, casting doubt on Ty’s matchmaking ability.
Women in K-Bay weren’t answering Trinity phone calls. The female-oriented businesses in Cove Creek had stopped accepting Trinity flyers. The fish had stopped biting. And Ty had stopped hoping. In that order.
In the space of twelve hours, Kelsey was ruining Ty’s chance to redeem himself. It was time to reclaim the lead and get a step or three ahead of her.
He searched through his tackle box, looking for a different color lure. He heard the car coming up the one-lane road to his house. Even if he hadn’t already known who it was, he would’ve guessed it was her when he heard the scrape of tire chains on the pavement.
He never moved from his chair beside his fishing hole in his very sparse, very small fishing hut on Lake Talbot. He didn’t stand when the door opened. And he didn’t offer his guest a warm welcome.
“You issued an invitation for an exclusive interview.” Kelsey stepped inside the hut. “And yet I haven’t recruited any more bachelorettes.”
The door swung closed behind Kelsey, the thud similar to the sound of his stick smacking against the goalpost. Game on. “I figured you’d be out interviewing K-Bay residents to get dirt on me. Why not take off the gloves and let you at me? Your post last night has basically shut down our business, and the people who were serious about matchmaking are now crushed.” That was an exaggeration.
“You make it sound so...mean. And me... I’m from K-Bay, too. I care about people here.”
“You were never from K-Bay. You visited K-Bay. You came through K-Bay.” Ty picked up a knife and sliced through a tangled fishing line. “You observed, took notes and then passed judgment.”
“Don’t forget I also took down its only rising star.”
“I’m sorry, that one isn’t yours to claim,” he said. “I took myself down. You simply let the world know.”
“Funny thing.” She moved farther into the hut. Her key chain flopped from one hand to the other. “This town refuses to talk about you, other than to sing your praises.”
Ty spun his reel, working on the knotted line. Her keys continued to clink in her palm, a reminder that her stay, and this interview, were temporary. He could relate to the mangled iceplex sign he’d replaced yesterday. Kelsey twisted him up and then she drove away.
“I shouldn’t be surprised.” She paced the short distance of the fishing hut and returned to stand beside his chair. The keys dangled from her fingers. “You won’t talk about you.”
“Maybe there’s simply nothing left to say.” The truth pressed at the back of his throat.
“Why am I here?”
“I was hoping you could answer that question.”
He thrust his arms wide, his wrist connecting with her hand, knocking the keys from her grasp. The car fob skidded to a halt near the second ice hole. “Why did you come? Matchmaking? It’s not your kind of story. There’s no sex, no violence, no incriminating evidence.” Thankfully.
“Matchmaking is small-town,” she admitted, sitting on an overturned bucket, the only other chair inside his fishing hut. “Why would three bachelors—employed bachelors—begin a business that s
ells happily-ever-afters?”
“You didn’t used to lie to me.” Ty knotted a new lure on his line. “The truth.”
“Maybe I want to help.”
“By ruining me again?”
“By setting you free.” She laid a hand on his knee. “From this place. Give me something, Ty. My article can create new avenues for you. Three months ago, a woman in my column was offered the job of a lifetime. A year ago, a man I featured had his name cleared.”
“And the rest of them? There are fifty-two weeks in the year.”
“I won’t let you make me feel guilty.”
“You? Feel guilty?” His laugh sounded hollow as if it rattled around inside his ribs, knocking against the emptiness. “How did two kids with messed-up parents end up so messed up? You’d think we’d know better.”
“You think it’s that apple-and-tree thing.” She picked up the skimmer and swirled it around in the hole he’d drilled into the ice. “We just didn’t fall far enough away.”
“Or we never fell at all.” Like father, like son. He tugged on the line, checking the lure.
“I would’ve had to be with my parents to become like them.”
The flat pitch in her tone emphasized the bitterness in her words. He paused and looked at her.
“It’s like with every column I write, I’m trying to get a seat at the family dinner table.” She hugged her knees as if she didn’t trust herself not to run. “As if that will make me a part of the family. As if we had dinner together around a table like a normal family.”
He set the fishing pole on the ice beside his chair. “I’m not sure I could tell you about normal families.” But he had a dinner table in his house, hand carved by his grandfather for his grandmother as a wedding present. Seating for eight. He hadn’t sat there in years.
“Pathetic, isn’t it?” She dunked chunks of ice under the water with the skimmer as if she was stabbing at memories from her past.
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