“Ah, no.” Sophie pushed his hand away. “She’s too young and that’s too hot.”
“Bah!” Zoe protested and dropped her head onto Sophie’s shoulder.
“Still learning,” Coop grumbled, but Gideon thought the hint of red on his friend’s face was wildly entertaining.
“I’m surprised Gideon didn’t ask for a follow-up consultation,” Ty said and barely flinched when Gideon’s boot found his shin. “I mean, he does like to be thorough when it comes to matching up our applicants.”
“I want someone steady.” Sophie sat Zoe on her lap, facing the table, and wrapped her hands around the baby’s torso. “Reliable. Considerate.” She ducked her head and rested it gently against Zoe’s for a brief moment. “Someone who wants to make a life here in K-Bay. I don’t mean I expect you to find me a husband,” she added and glanced at Gideon as if she’d just admitted to some wild, inappropriate fantasy. “But I need someplace to start. Someone to start with. Get my feet wet, so to speak, in the dating game.”
“Gideon’s great at starting things,” Coop said. “If anyone can help you find someone, he can. Right, Gid?”
“Right.” Gideon managed a shaky smile and dropped her paperwork on top of the others. “Yeah, nothing I want more than to help you find your perfect someone, Sophie.”
But even as he said the words, he knew he was lying.
CHAPTER THREE
“OH, DILLON.” Sophie's pub-and-baby-induced good mood evaporated the second she stepped foot inside her front door. Dillon sat exactly where he’d been this morning, glued to the sofa, a video game controller in his hand, and a collection of beer bottles and energy drink cans scattered around his feet.
Gideon’s earlier comments came back at her with the force of a slingshot.
She marched to the kitchen and reached over the sink to shove open the window. Taking a good breath of fresh air and shivering against the cold, she tried to ignore the pile of food wrappers, empty microwave containers and dirty dishes.
“Dillon, I thought we talked about—” She returned to the living room, list in hand.
“Can’t talk now, sis. About to level up.” Dillon angled his controller this way and that as he sent virtual grenades lobbing toward the heads of his online opponents.
Sophie bit her lip. She hated conflict of any kind and usually avoided it like the plague, but enough was enough. He was an adult. It was time for him to start acting like it. “Was it really too much trouble to take out the trash?”
“I’ll do it in a minute!” The frown marring his features was so reminiscent of their father—a man she had few good memories of—she almost lost her breath. Dillon’s thick brows pinched together as more explosions echoed from the flat-screen television. The TV was the only new indulgence Sophie had given in to in the past two years in an effort to pinch every penny. The set had been a blessing when it came to entertaining their mother, but if Sophie had even suspected how much time it was going to suck out of her brother, she would have chucked the thing after coming home from the funeral.
“Ah, man!” Dillon threw the controller down and glared at her. From his saggy posture on the sofa, she’d give him to the end of the year before he looked more like a sci-fi gelatinous mob boss than the long-distance runner he’d been once upon a time. “Now look! It’s as if the whole day was a waste.”
“I guess it’s trash time, then.” Despite the open kitchen window, the air in the house continued to hang heavy and stale. No doubt because he hadn’t ventured outside unless it was for a beer run.
“Quit nagging me,” Dillon spat with an exaggerated roll of his eyes that only accentuated his scraggly hair and overgrown beard. “I’m going.”
She followed him into the kitchen. “I spotted a couple of new help-wanted signs in town. The Clipper Ship is looking for a busboy and the hardware store—”
“I’ll find something on my own,” he said as he turned on the faucet and started dumping his pile of trash into a bag. “I don’t need your help.”
“You need someone’s.” Sophie hugged herself, fighting the urge to disappear into her room. Not this time. Not tonight. “It was your choice not to take that partial scholarship to UCLA,” Sophie reminded him with as kind a tone as she could muster, despite her disappointment. “You made a deal with me and Mom when you turned that down. You said you’d get a job and contribute around here.”
“That scholarship wouldn’t have paid for anything other than tuition.”
“You wouldn’t have been the first college student who had to work to cover living expenses. And I would have helped where I could.” Of all of their father’s less than admirable traits for Dillon to acquire, he’d gotten a double dose of the lazy, entitled gene. The idea of working hard never occurred to either of them. “You should have at least tried. But this, what you’ve been doing since Mom died—” She stopped as his jaw tensed. He’d already tuned her out. “There’s something out there for you, Dillon. I wish you’d try to find it.” And stop spending your free time getting busted for misdemeanors.
“Easy for you to say,” Dillon grumbled, splashing water over the edge of the sink. “You’ve always known what you wanted to do.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s been easy.” She was more than happy to regale him with how much effort it had taken to get The Flower Shop off the ground. Or how much farther she could be on her chosen career path if she didn’t have to carry him, as well. Guilt settled, easing the urge to lash out at him. Instead, she said, “What would Mom say if she saw you now?”
“She’d ask how much the bail was and go back to watching her shows.”
Sophie swallowed hard, banking the tears that burned behind her eyes.
That her brother would say such a thing so casually only proved how far off track he’d gotten. Every second that passed proved Gideon Walker right. It only added to her frustration. Shame rolled over her in thick, heavy waves. She’d fallen into the same pattern as their mother, coddling him, making excuses for him and trying to make life as easy as possible. But life wasn’t easy.
Maybe it was time he understood that.
“This can’t go on, Dillon.” She didn’t want to pull the trigger on her backup plan, but the more time that passed, the more she came to accept there was only one solution. If only it wasn’t so hard.
“There’s more to life than work,” Dillon said with a dramatic sigh and a drop of his chin to his chest, his arms wrist deep in suds. “Not that you’d know about that.”
“I beg your pardon?” She blinked at him.
“All you do is go to work and then come home and rag on me. I don’t see you having any kind of life.”
“Asking you to clean up after yourself isn’t ragging.” But his accusation felt like carte blanche to do so. Sophie felt her spine stiffen as resolution set in. A sharp dose of reality was what Dillon needed. “I’m going to expand my social life just like you’re going to get it together and find a job. This house doesn’t pay for itself. Either step up or I’ll be making some changes.” The words came out in a rush, as if she’d purged herself of a long-held tension, and could now breathe easier. She walked to the sink and ruffled the back of his hair, just like she used to when he was little. But he shied away, as if her touch had burned him.
Sophie tried to ignore the sharp stab at her heart. “Thank you for cleaning up. Good night, Dillon.”
“Yeah. Night.”
Sophie trudged up the stairs, dragging her oversize purse with her, banging it against the wall as she ducked into her bedroom. Exhaustion descended as soon as she sank onto her mattress. It was all she could do to reach over and click on the bedside lamp.
This room served as her refuge, the one place she’d always felt at peace no matter what happened outside the door. The soft colors, the stacks of paperbacks in the corner for when she had time to read, the con
glomeration of pictures of her, Dillon and their mother before everything got so...challenging. Sophie sighed.
Dillon was correct about one thing: she didn’t have much more than work and home, but that was why she’d ventured into scary matchmaking territory and talked to Gideon.
Gideon.
Sophie let out a growl of frustration and threw herself back on the bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Gideon Walker had his foibles, but being distant with the truth wasn’t one of them. If anything, the man was too honest, as evidenced today by his heavily voiced opinion about her brother.
All this time she thought Gideon had turned down her loan request because he considered her an unworthy investment or, worse, that she was not bright enough to run a successful business. Today he’d made it pretty clear that wasn’t the case.
His admission should have made her feel better. Instead, it made her sad.
How her mother expected Sophie to do what she couldn’t and keep Dillon out of trouble, Sophie couldn’t fathom. But the deathbed promise she’d made wasn’t something she could forget.
She rolled onto her side, her gaze falling to the starry night outside her window. Everyone in town knew what a troublemaker Dillon was. At least Gideon had been honest and said what she was sure dozens of other people were thinking. She had seen a glimpse of the real Gideon tonight at the Bar & Grill, though, when his handsome face had cracked an occasional smile. He was...different from how he was at the bank. Friendlier. Fun.
Maybe she needed to cut him some slack.
And maybe Gideon was the person who could find a soul mate for her.
CHAPTER FOUR
GIDEON SIPPED HIS COFFEE, courtesy of Tilda at the Clipper Ship Coffee Shop. The small dining area in the far back was a hidden gem in town and served a bracing coffee. The early-Saturday-morning zing of caffeine did his system a world of good given the restless nights he’d had since inputting the data from the latest questionnaires. He’d be lucky if his laptop didn’t go on strike.
“Am I reading this right?” Ty asked with more skepticism on his face than Gideon had seen in a while. “You’re matching Sophie Jennings with Peter Ellingsworth, Jack Travis and then Manfred Dellison?”
Gideon shrugged. The less he said the better. He didn’t want to admit—vocally at least—that he’d kept Sophie’s questionnaire out of the program and plucked a few outliers from the male applicants to pair her off with. All three of those men were...well, safe. They’d treat her with kindness. And if there happened to be an emotional connection, wasn’t it better to make one with a schoolteacher, a supermarket manager or a...
Ty frowned. “Is there a glitch in the software you wrote? Manfred works for a pesticide manufacturer. Sophie’s a florist. You don’t see a conflict there?”
Another shrug. What Gideon did see was a socially awkward borderline geek with a penchant for collecting odd goggles and stalking Alaskan wildlife in the moonlight.
It took every ounce of control Gideon had not to grimace behind his coffee mug as he thanked Tilda for her excellent sense of timing in bringing over his breakfast, the clang of her wristload of bracelets a welcome distraction. No one did smoked-salmon-and-cream-cheese omelets quite like the Clipper Ship, which was why he only allowed himself to indulge a couple times a month. And the paprika-spiced potatoes and homemade buttermilk biscuits? Superb.
“Sophie can talk to anyone about anything.” Gideon avoided Ty’s gaze and dug in. “Peter or Jack might be a better choice.”
“I thought Peter didn’t want kids. And did you even read Manfred’s answer to ‘What’s your greatest achievement?’ This guy had a hand in creating one of those pesticides linked to the decline in the bee population. You do know flowers need bees to thrive, right?”
“I aced biology. Unlike some people.” Gideon tried to lighten the mood. Anything to keep Ty distracted from asking what Gideon was sure was headed his way: probing questions about his feelings for Sophie. “There’s always Jack Travis as backup, and you can’t find anything wrong with him.”
“The guy is as boring as glue,” Ty said. “I’m falling into a coma just thinking about their date. Do you have something against Sophie?”
Gideon choked on his omelet and almost spit out a caper. Sputtering, he reached for his napkin as his eyes watered. “What?”
Ty set the printout aside and welcomed his own stack of boysenberry pancakes dripping with butter accompanied by a thick slab of bacon. “I wouldn’t match a warrior princess with Manfred,” Ty said. “Let alone someone as sweet as Sophie. Just seems an odd pairing to me.”
“Look, all I’m trying to do is get us enough matches to win that bet. You want to go through the forms and see if you can do any better—”
“No, no. I’ve spent my time there in purgatory, thanks.” Ty held up one hand in surrender. “We’ve trusted you this far with the logarithm. We know you won’t let us down.”
Guiltily, Gideon swallowed a bite of potato and ignored Ty’s skeptical expression. It wasn’t as if he was sabotaging Sophie’s chance at happiness. He was showing her what K-Bay had to offer, and compared to some of the other men—men he wouldn’t trust within three feet of K-Bay’s flower princess—she’d do perfectly fine.
Other people in K-Bay who were looking for matches didn’t have to rely on Sophie, even if Sophie was relying on Gideon. And if by not putting her info into the system it caused a few, well, problems, there was still time to fix them.
One thing he did know was that reading Sophie’s questionnaire had him leaning away from the idea of their friendship toward...something that could never be.
Sophie was homegrown K-Bay. Her feet may as well be tied to the tree roots in the town’s foundation.
And Gideon was all but packed and ready to leave for good.
“Hey!” Ty waved his fork in front of Gideon’s face. “Where did you disappear to?”
“Nothing. Nowhere.” Gideon tried to push away the realization that there would soon come a day when he wouldn’t see Sophie stepping through the door of the bank to brighten up his afternoon. All this time he’d been focused on what waited for him outside K-Bay. He’d never stopped to think what—or who—he might be leaving behind. “There are ten couples on that list for the Polar Dip so far. Odds are someone out of that group has to ring that bell, so I’d guess we’re just about home free by Valentine’s Day.”
“From your lips.” Ty didn’t sound as enthusiastic at the prospect of winning the bet with Coach as he had only a few days ago. Or maybe Gideon was projecting his own doubts onto his friend. “But back to Sophie for a second.”
Gideon’s appetite waned. “Must we?”
“Don’t mess with her too much,” Ty warned in an oddly protective tone. “I know you haven’t been overly fond of our local florist, but there are plenty of people who are, me included. She might not be as fragile as Eleanor Clambert, but it took a lot of nerve to put her heart out there, and the last person who should be taking another swipe at her is you. Unless you have other ideas?”
“I’ve never taken a swipe at Sophie.”
“You turned her down for that business loan last year,” Ty reminded him.
Gideon shook his head. Didn’t anyone see he’d only refused her because he was protecting her? “That was different. That was dollars and cents. And I didn’t want anyone taking advantage of her.”
Ty arched a brow in that silent way he had of absorbing information for future use.
“She wasn’t a good financial risk,” Gideon added. He didn’t have any trouble imagining what Dillon Jennings would do to get in between Sophie and the money she needed for her shop. Gideon wasn’t about to let her be that vulnerable when someone completely unreliable was lurking over her shoulder.
He didn’t regret it. Much.
“If you’re not careful,” Ty s
aid, “those risks you don’t believe are worth taking are going to bite you in the butt. All the more reason to be careful with these matches, Gid. One wrong move and disaster will strike. And take all of us and our futures with it.”
* * *
“SOPHIE?”
On Tuesday morning, Sophie glanced up from the third of twenty centerpieces for a wedding in neighboring Denali, her hands wrist deep in floral foam, baby’s breath and delicate purple irises.
“Hello. Manfred, isn’t it?” She smiled at the slight, gawky, bespectacled man coming in the door and set the arrangement aside. She remembered him—barely—from high school. At least she thought she did. Sophie wiped her hands on her apron and approached. “How can I help you?”
He cleared his throat, wide eyes circling the store like a fish in a bowl. “Gideon Walker contacted me. I believe you and I have a date to plan for this evening.”
“Oh!” The nervous smile that took over the entirety of Manfred’s face told her she was about to become the three-strikes-you’re-out member of the matchmaking club. “Oh, I didn’t realize he’d have another one for me so soon.” She’d barely recovered from Sunday night and Peter Ellingsworth, and the dinner that wasn’t. He’d spent more time complaining about having to dodge his ex-girlfriend’s phone calls than he had talking with Sophie. She’d begged off to the ladies’ room but wasn’t gone ten seconds before he was on his phone—with said ex.
Her coffee date with Jack Travis yesterday morning had started with more promise, but that had soon gone awry when a clumsy barista had tripped next to their table and her tray full of mochas and espressos had landed in Jack’s lap. He’d leaped to his feet instantly and caused the guy sitting behind him to... Well, the entire café had suffered a severe domino-like collapse. The last Sophie had seen of Jack, he’d been waddling down the street, plucking his pants away from tender areas, a string of curses echoing in the morning air.
And now...Manfred.
“Um.” She shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels. She should have checked her cell phone, apparently. Assuming Gideon had given her a heads-up. “So did you have something in mind you’d like to do?”
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