It wasn’t a come-hither finger motion. Or the universal sign language for irritating Sunday drivers everywhere. He stayed where he was. But his eyes were locked on that dimple. “Okay.”
“With The Flying Broomsticks.” Both of her dimples emerged.
Ty’s legs wobbled as if he was a kid learning how to skate. He crossed his arms over his chest, searching for balance.
“That’s my hockey team.” She moved down onto the next step, wrapping the ends of her scarf around her wrists. “Well, I’m part of a team now.”
Each roll of her wrist inside the scarf was like a twist inside him. Each step closer was like a surge of adrenaline to his heart. His gaze fixated on her hands. “The Flying...”
“Broomsticks.”
If she laughed, he couldn’t hear it over the buzzing in his own head. She’d moved again. Almost within his reach, if he stretched.
“We play Wednesday nights over at the iceplex. You should come watch.”
There was something different in her voice, as if the sun had set and night reigned. Something that gripped Ty’s chest. He grabbed the railing. “To give you pointers on how to improve your game?”
“I think I’ve got a handle on the keys to success.” She walked to the edge of the step above him.
If he leaned forward he could capture the ends of her scarf. And her. “Care to enlighten me?”
“It’s simple, really. You rise when you are part of a team.”
“You intend to rise to the top of the broom-hockey league,” he said.
“Among other things.” She laughed then. Equal parts joy and relief. Light and comfort.
Her laughter bubbled out like a hot spring, washing over Ty and filling him with her own happiness.
She pulled her scarf from around her neck. He anticipated her next move, caught the end as she flicked it toward him. He tugged; she tugged back. “I want to be a team, Ty. Together.”
That was when the ground beneath him shifted, as if he’d stepped on the soft patch of ice. Her words clipped him, leaving him weaker than he’d been after his injuries. He pulled himself up onto her step, closing the distance between them. “What happens when we fall?”
“We’ll do it together.” She reached out until her hand found his inside the scarf. “You belong to me. And I belong to you.”
He’d never imagined he’d hear those words from her. Not when she’d pulled into his drive. Not when she’d walked onto that top step. Not even when she’d tossed him her scarf as if it were the only lifeline from a pit of quicksand. Maybe that was what she was. His lifeline.
He cupped her face; his thumb stroked over her cheek. “Both of us, we’re used to playing alone. Going our own way.”
“It’s a new period. New ice. New game.” Her fingers threaded through his beneath the scarf. “Are you in?”
She couldn’t know what she’d asked. What she’d said. But he knew.
He leaned down, captured her mouth beneath his and held on. And for the first time ever, his future wasn’t buried in shadows.
Kelsey sneaked her arms inside Ty’s jacket, wrapped her fingers around his waist and curled farther into him. Her voice had warmed him, but having her in his arms, that spread a peace through his whole body.
He wound her scarf around her neck, but kept interrupting his own progress by kissing her. She didn’t stop him. In truth, she pulled him back to her for several drawn-out kisses before letting him continue with the scarf.
“There’s no scarf left.” Gideon brushed past them on the stairs. “Either take it inside or get down here to finish the setup.”
Kelsey rubbed her cheek against his sweater. “I’m not sure you put it on right. Do you think he’ll yell if you start all over?”
Ty’s laughter ricocheted right through him. He rubbed her shoulders, and then her back. Letting her go seemed like a very bad solution. “I suppose we should help. It was my suggestion after all.”
She lifted her head and kissed him. “Tell me how I can help.”
“Don’t move,” he said and held her in place for another round.
Snow splattered the back of his head. Ty reached up and rubbed the spot.
“Kelsey, don’t kiss him again or I’m taking aim at you, too,” Gideon yelled.
Kelsey peeked around Ty’s shoulder. Ty squeezed her. “What’s he got?”
“A dozen. Maybe more,” she said.
She leaned up on her toes toward Ty. Within seconds, she’d squealed and ducked behind Ty as the snowball hit Ty’s shoulder.
“He’s serious.” Kelsey let go of Ty and scooped a chunk of snow into her hands. “Gideon Walker, don’t you dare throw a snowball at me.”
“City girls can’t throw.”
“I’m not a city girl.” Kelsey threw her snowball, packed more snow into her hands and launched another. She arm blocked one from Gideon and rallied again.
Laughing, she glanced over at Ty. “Are you helping or not?”
Ty bent down, stuck his hands in the snow. “We’re a team now, aren’t we?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KELSEY STRETCHED HER LEGS out in a booth at the Bar & Grill and kneaded her shoulder. She already had a bruise from last night’s snowball war. “Gideon, you pack a mean snowball.”
“Sorry. That one was meant for Ty.” Gideon glanced up from the nearby table where he sat with his computer and grimaced as he touched the side of his head. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”
Coach carried over a plate, set it in front of Kelsey and dropped a large cup of coffee in front of Ty. “Word is you carried on all night like a bunch of kids. Playing in the snow until well after midnight.”
It was closer to sunrise for Kelsey and Ty. And if she guessed correctly, for another couple who’d departed together.
There’d been magic in the snow angels she and Ty had made, laughter in the secrets they’d shared and sanctuary in the quiet moments. She should want to rest her head on the table and sleep. But it was as if she’d eaten Tilda’s entire inventory of espresso beans and washed them down with Coach’s pot of coffee that he now held in his grip.
Ty drank half of his cup and winked at her. “We fished, too. It wasn’t all play and no work.”
Kelsey’s toes curled and those espresso beans jumped around inside her like popcorn kernels about to explode. She’d always wondered what it felt like to be giddy.
Coach studied Ty and then looked at Kelsey. He set the coffeepot on the table, his fingers tapping against the plastic lid. “Looks as though you might have found your team. Yet my bell is still silent.”
There was no question in Coach’s voice. Just the confidence of a man used to being obeyed. The espresso party inside her slowed to a simmer. Kelsey set her fork on the table.
“Coach, give us a minute, will you?” Ty dropped the bacon that he’d stolen back onto Kelsey’s plate.
She expected Ty’s frown, but not the shadow that shifted across his face. She’d thought they’d stepped into the light finally.
Coach crossed his arms over his chest and remained where he was.
“Coach,” Ty said again.
Even his voice was deeper, as if Ty had retreated into a cave. Kelsey reached across the table and curved her fingers with Ty’s. He squeezed her hand, running his thumb across her palm, calming her more than words. She said, “It’s fine.”
Ty shifted forward. “He wants you to...”
She set her other hand on top of their joined ones. “I know what he wants me to do.” She looked up at Coach. “And I know what I want to do.”
Coach stared her down; she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t lying. She knew what her heart wanted. What she needed. She also knew there was one more thing, one more detail before the past could be just that: the past.
&
nbsp; Her stomach knotted. She squeezed Ty’s hand, taking in his strength. “We never talked about my latest story.”
Ty’s gaze was fixed on her. He tensed beneath her fingers. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I submitted it yesterday,” she said. “Before I came to the lake.”
“It’ll be fine.” He pulled his hands free, rolled his shoulders, massaged his neck. Everything but touch her. Kelsey left her arms extended across the table. A bad feeling crept along her spine.
Ty slid out of the booth and stood beside Coach. He rolled his shoulders again and then held Kelsey’s stare. That tremor speared through her core. She couldn’t read him. She’d always read him. Always.
But his scar didn’t twitch. His eyes didn’t narrow. Her arms trembled now. She clutched her hands together on the table and willed him with her eyes to give her something. Anything.
And he did.
“We’re a team,” he said. “Those were your words.”
Even his voice was flat. That wasn’t enough.
“We are. That hasn’t changed.” The quiver was there in her tone. Surely he’d heard it. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he sitting? He needed to sit. She needed to explain. “I meant that. I still mean it.”
He stared at her, his gaze seeming to dig deep into her soul, searching for... She didn’t know what. She waited and waited, never looked away. Sat there and shook as if she’d been buried in the snow all night. Finally he nodded, turned and strode outside. Gideon and Coop rushed after him.
Kelsey ran her palms over the table. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
He’d walked out. Walked out.
What happened to team? What happened to belonging? What happened to them?
The bite of egg she’d swallowed was making her nauseous. She reached for her ice water and stopped. She didn’t need any more ice. She rubbed her palms on the table. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Coach cleared his throat and sat on the bench across from her. “He’ll be back.”
What happened to Coach’s confident bellow?
“Will he?” Was that her voice? That strained, high-pitched croak of a whisper?
“You told him you loved him.” That certainty returned quickly in Coach’s tone. He sat back and nodded. “Love trumps everything.”
She shook her head. Now her chin quivered. She hadn’t said that. She’d talked about teams. And belonging. And rising. She’d talked about together. She’d never mentioned love.
Oh, God! She fisted her hands on the table.
Coach’s eyebrows drew together like twin caterpillars crawling downward. “What were you doing all hours of the night?”
Snowball fight. Fishing. Talking. Another snowball fight. Kissing. A little fishing. More kissing.
Coach rapped his knuckles on the table. “Don’t answer that.”
She hadn’t planned to.
Coach reached over, covered her hands. “It’ll be fine. I’m going to check on some customers and then we’re going to put together a game plan.”
Game plan. She needed that. But the dash of panic mixed with desperation in his voice told her he might not be the best choice to help her devise one. Kelsey bobbed her head in agreement, willing away the quiver that eased up into her cheeks.
“You stay put.” Coach patted her hand. “I’ll only be a minute or two.”
Kelsey stayed put. For one thing, she didn’t know what to do. And as for the second, the heating vent was blowing on her feet, keeping her body from going as numb as her heart. And third, she prayed Coach would surprise her and come back with her winning game plan.
Coop and Gideon returned nineteen minutes later. She knew because she’d been watching the clock, wondering if she stared long enough if she could reverse time. When that failed, she started setting time limits. If he wasn’t back in ten minutes, she’d leave and find Tilda. Surely Tilda could get her a game plan. His friends returned before the buzzer. Now she had to reset.
Neither Coop nor Gideon came to her booth. Coop offered an encouraging nod, one that a dad would give to his second grader about to do a school performance. Gideon hid behind his computer screen. If only she had a snowball.
Six minutes later, Ty walked back inside. And Kelsey almost slid off the bench. Her heart certainly dropped through her chest, past her stomach to her boots.
Ty stalked toward her. There was more heat, more determination, more everything colliding through his gaze. He came right up to the table, held out his hand toward her.
That incessant tremor snaked one last time through her. Kelsey set her hand in his. And everything quieted, except for her heart. That tripped and stumbled into her throat.
He tugged, urging her out of the booth before pulling her against his chest.
And then into his arms, and everything inside her settled. This was where she needed to be.
“You shaved?” She touched his cheek, fingers covering the full length of his scar.
“No more hiding. Not from you. Not from us.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles, then each cheek. He pulled away and said, “I love you, Kelsey.”
Her heart stumbled again. Everything she’d ever wanted was here. With him. “What about the story?”
His smile was soft, quiet and hinted at shared secrets. It was the smile reserved only for her. The one that both strengthened and weakened her. That one that called her home.
“We’re a team,” he said. “We’ll handle it together.”
This man who’d been her headline. Her ticket to a life she’d thought she’d wanted had somehow become her salvation. Was there any greater gift? She brushed her lips over his. “Wait here.”
Stepping out of his arms, she raced to the bar as if she’d had an extra helping of those darned espresso beans. Reaching up over the beer taps, she rang the bell and yelled, “Ty Porter, I love you!”
Cheers filled the Bar & Grill. Coach clapped heartily and winked at her as he wiped a finger against the corner of his eye. Ty picked up Kelsey and spun her around once, then told her to give him the words again, as he wasn’t sure he’d heard her the first time, even though he had.
Breakfast service resumed only to be disrupted once more when several of the ice fishing group burst into the Bar & Grill. Kelsey studied the group. If she wasn’t mistaken, they were still together and still smiling from ear to ear.
Charlie and Summer made up the last of their group. Charlie helped Summer with her jacket and then called out to the customers, “We heard there was a bell ringing going on this morning.”
Ty lifted his and Kelsey’s entwined hands into the air. “Just missed it.”
Charlie seized Ty’s shoulder and squeezed. “And here we thought we’d be the first ones to ring the bell before noon.”
Ty glanced at Kelsey. She grinned. Another secret to tuck inside her smile. “I told you so.”
Charlie reached for Summer, put his arm around her waist. “We’d be the second couple, but what do you say? We’re here already with our friends and family.”
Summer beamed. “I think it’s perfect.”
“Together?” Charlie asked. Summer nodded, and the couple stepped up to the bar and together they rang the bell.
Once again, cheers echoed around the tavern. In the midst of the happy chaos, Kelsey watched Gideon pull out his laptop. She nudged Ty and pointed to their friend. “What’s he doing?”
Ty laughed. “Revising the survey.”
* * * * *
Suddenly Sophie
Anna J. Stewart
For my writing cohorts, Melinda Curtis and Cari Lynn Webb. I couldn’t do this crazy job without you.
And my Alaskan little sister, Jessica Bogard, aka Ripley, one of the coolest people I know.
Dear Reader,
The right friends help get you through life.
That’s definitely the case for Ty, Coop and Gideon, the three heroes in Make Me a Match. They bonded from the moment they met and nothing’s going to tear them apart: not the secrets they keep, the dreams they have or the opportunities they’ve lost. Funny how second chances can shake things up.
Gideon Walker feels stuck. But in recent years a bright spot has presented itself in the form of Sophie Jennings. Not that they don’t have their issues. Romance is a bumpy road until Gideon is given the chance to get everything he’s always wanted—the last thing he expects is to have to match-make for Sophie in order to make his dreams and those of his friends come true.
In a way this novella wrote itself. There are times when you let the characters take the lead, and that’s exactly what happened with Gideon and Sophie. Sometimes writing isn’t just a job—it’s a pleasure.
Much like writing with my BFFs Melinda Curtis and Cari Lynn Webb. We click. After supporting each other for almost a decade we have our own language, our own shortcuts and at times, we’re brutally honest with one another. You might think that’s not a recipe for success, but I can honestly say I could not traverse this publishing world without them.
After all, great friendships—and romance—are what life is all about.
Happy reading!
Anna
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
GIDEON WALKER MISSED the sun.
Some days, today for instance, Kenkamken Bay, Alaska, seemed mired in gray. The low-hanging clouds and soupy mist pressed in on him, making his body sag from a vitamin D deficiency no amount of supplements would remedy.
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