Make Me A Match: Baby, Baby / The Matchmaker Wore Skates / Suddenly Sophie
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There was nothing like a baby to attract a lot of women. It was like flies being drawn to honey. “Ladies, please step back. I’m a man who needs to see a baby.” He very carefully didn’t claim Nora’s child as his own.
Worked like a charm. The crowd melted away like room-temperature butter for a hot knife. The women oohed and aahed and patted Coop’s shoulder as if he’d done something truly wonderful.
Kind of made him feel like a cad.
“Cooper wants to hold his baby.” Mrs. Begay topped her statement with a romantic sigh. She’d bought a SUV from him last summer and, on his advice, had special ordered the expensive snow tires that had no doubt carried her here.
Mrs. Harrison, who’d never bought a car from Coop, was a grandmother of five and had been his third-grade teacher. She moved slowly out of his way, watching him from behind cat-eye glasses as if he was still a troublemaking third-grader. “About time someone caught you doing something naughty.”
Feeling kindly, Coop said, “You were right, Mrs. H. I was the one who replaced your glue with mayonnaise.”
That brought a smile to her plump cheeks. “I knew it! Do you know? No little boy has caused as much mischief in my classroom as you did.”
“I take that as a compliment.” And he expected her next car purchase to be from him.
Mrs. Tsosie, who ran the local newspaper almost single-handedly and had purchased her last truck from Coop, produced a serious-looking black camera with a lens the size of a bourbon bottle. “I want a picture of this reformed bachelor holding his baby.”
Reformed? That meant he’d be stuck in Kenkamken Bay forever.
“Oh, no.” Coop’s laughter sounded as hollow as his forgotten dreams. “We’re not taking out a mortgage or anything.”
In the booth, Pop frowned. Across from him, Nora rolled her eyes. Someone in the back of the group said, “I told you so.”
Coop clung to his smile and his bachelor’s shallow pride.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Tsosie said. “Now that you’re a dad, we’ll be seeing more of you in church and less of you in the bar.”
Coach’s laughter penetrated the crowd, penetrated Coop’s car-salesman-thick skin, penetrated his normally unshakable smile. Coop resented the implication that his whole way of life would change with fatherhood, resented it with patience-snapping intensity.
But before he could say fatherhood wouldn’t change him, Mrs. Tsosie said, “Go on. Hold your daughter.”
Your daughter.
A small tremor passed through Coop’s biceps and headed toward his hands. Probably, he’d lifted weights too hard yesterday morning. There was no way that tremor and the one that started in his quads and moved behind his knees had anything to do with nerves about trying something new. Coop was always the first one to jump off a bridge on a bungee cord or to test-drive a new vehicle in bad weather.
And yet...the baby in Nora’s arms waved a tiny fist. It was the first time he’d seen the baby move.
Coop’s step faltered. He grabbed on to Mary Jo’s shoulder.
The almost divorced mother of two met his gaze with weary brown eyes. “You’ll be fine.”
Coop’s gaze moved to Nora’s. Her soft blue eyes were also dark rimmed, but there was something else in her gaze, something that caused Coop’s hand to drop and his feet to move forward. That gaze said, “Stay away from me. From us.”
Who was she to keep him away? Kids needed parents. If the baby was his...
Regret did a gut-stomping two-step with defeat, dancing right over his big plans.
Coop took a deep breath, trying to slow the dance, trying to keep the dream alive, trying to shut up the annoying, upstanding side of his character that whispered about accepting responsibility for his actions. Finally, he reached the booth where Pop and Nora sat. “I want to hold her.”
There was reluctance in Nora’s eyes. He hadn’t asked to hold the baby at all yesterday and now she didn’t trust him. That look. She’d almost shot him down with it the night they’d met. She’d been hard to get—no playing. She’d made him work at winning her over, claiming at first that she only wanted to share some laughs and dance. But the more they’d laughed and danced, the more Coop had wanted. More conversations, more kisses, more Nora.
“Sit.” She nodded toward the bench beside her. “If you must.”
He sat, feeling weak and light-headed once more. Had to be the press of bodies and the four-inch-wide camera lens aimed his way. “I’ve never held a baby before.”
“I’m beginning to think I raised you wrong,” Pop announced loudly, as if Coop sat at the bar and not four feet away. “Playing the field all the time and not even knowing how to care for one of your own.”
“Pop, please shut up.”
Nora’s cheeks were as pink as the baby’s blanket. “It’s easy. Bend your arms as though I’m handing you a football. Hold them a little higher than your breadbasket.” Nora jiggled the baby so he could see how to position his arms. Her instructions were softly spoken, but her eyes... Her eyes warned of dire consequences if he dropped the ball—er, baby.
Mrs. Tsosie snapped a picture.
Coop held out his arms. “Football metaphors?”
“Two older brothers.” Nora slipped the small pink bundle into his arms. “I could switch to truck engines or hockey if you prefer. I also throw a mean knuckleball.”
Well, what do you know? Despite how she’d filled out her dress when they’d first met, Nora was grow-on-you gorgeous and a tomboy.
Coop couldn’t seem to look away from her pert nose, her delicate mouth or her painfully truthful eyes. They were as blue as an Alaskan summer sky. Despite her tomboy declaration, she wore jeans and a yellow blouse that had style. She wasn’t intimidating in her femininity, like Tatiana. She was approachable, like the girl you asked to help you with algebra homework.
The proverbial football he held squirmed and waved a tiny fist toward his chin, demanding he give her some attention. The baby’s tiny head rested in the crook of his elbow. Her body fit the length of his forearm, the pink blanket soft against his skin. Everything about her seemed like a perfect miniature of her mother. She opened dark blue eyes over a now familiar-looking nose and stared up at him, huffing and waving her fist once more.
“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he whispered in a voice that was suddenly husky.
The women oohed and aahed again. Mrs. Tsosie snapped more pictures.
When he made eye contact with her, Zoe wiggled and blew spit bubbles.
“Show off.” Coop felt something in his chest shift. He was used to women wanting his attention. What Coop wasn’t used to was the feeling that this woman, this small female, was his. His to love by right. His to love by responsibility. His to love because she was so flippin’ adorable.
“Dang, women,” Pop said in his nearly shouting voice from the other side of the booth. “Give the man some space.” He shooed them away.
Coop didn’t see where his audience went. He only had eyes for the baby in his arms. His baby. He stroked her velvety cheek with the back of one finger and then traced the familiar Hamilton nose.
Zoe wrapped her tiny digits around his knuckle, blew out an I-wish-I-could-roll-my-eyes-at-you breath and squeezed.
Coop felt a corresponding pressure in his chest. In his heart. In the twisted strand of DNA that had passed on the good-parent gene from Pop. He had no idea what his daughter wanted, but whatever it was, he planned on giving it to her. “You don’t need to pay for a paternity test. She’s mine.”
Nora reached for Zoe but Coop held her off with one hand.
Nora gathered herself, as if preparing for a score-stopping tackle. But when she spoke, her voice lacked its usual strength. “Don’t get used to this. We’re leaving as soon as bus service resumes. And then we’re done.”
Bachelor Coop... Car salesman Coop... Those parts of him felt relief.
But there was a new Coop in town. And that Coop felt a breath-stealing depression at the thought of never seeing Zoe again.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE WAY COOP had been giving Zoe a wide berth, Nora would never have predicted he’d fall in love with her.
But there was the proof in his lovesick gaze. In the way he held Zoe close. In the way he whispered, “That’s a great grip for a hockey stick.”
Fifty points for having a heart.
The crowd of mothers standing in the middle of the bar laughed and exchanged stories of moments when their men had realized being a father wasn’t the end of the world. It was much preferable to their stories of sick, bleeding babies.
“Hey, Ty,” Coop said. “Come check out my kid’s grip.” He spoke with pride, as if no other baby could possibly hold on to his finger as tightly as Zoe.
Nora wanted to snatch her baby back. She wasn’t here to share Zoe with an irresponsible drunk. Coop had come to the bar before noon!
“She’s just a normal baby.” Nora brushed her hair behind her ear and tried to ignore the bitter taste of fear at the back of her throat. She wasn’t about to let Coop get visitation and hurt Zoe with promises he never intended to keep and hopes that were constantly dashed. “That’s enough.”
But Coop had the new-daddy bug. He stood and walked around the bar, showing off Zoe to whoever would let him. And many did. The bar was filling up.
Nora cradled her forehead in her hands, staring at the scratched and scuffed tabletop. Fifty points for being a proud dad. Another fifty because he was acting on faith by claiming Zoe as his. Despite the positives, tension gripped her forehead with a vicious pound-pound-pound. She wanted to be taking points away, not giving them.
“Let him have his moment,” Brad said at an abnormal—for him—normal volume.
Nora brought her head up, clasping her hands tight enough to crack a walnut. “This moment won’t last. Coop doesn’t realize that raising a child is about more than showing up on Christmas morning with a gift.”
Brad’s brow furrowed. “Cooper isn’t like that.”
“He is.” Nora unknotted her hands. This visit wasn’t about her. “He doesn’t want to be a dad. He doesn’t even know what that means.”
“He doesn’t know what he wants,” Brad countered, still using that normal-volume voice, which probably served as his whisper. “You’ve had months to get used to the idea of being a parent. Give him time.”
Zoe was becoming fussy, waving her fists and giving an occasional, demanding shout.
Coop hurried back to their table, dodging a bassinet and basket of baby clothes. “What’s wrong with her? Did I do something wrong?”
“She’s hungry.” Nora dug in her backpack for a blanket, feeling her milk let down.
“That’s my cue to leave.” Brad edged out of the booth. “Suzy? When did you get here?”
“I’ll feed her.” Coop held out a hand.
He was clueless. He hadn’t paid enough attention to either of them since they’d arrived. “Biologically, you can’t feed her. She’s breast fed.” Although Nora had been intrigued by a breast pump one of the women had brought. It would be nice to have a spare bottle for those times, rare as they’d been—knock on wood—that Nora had been too tense for her milk to come down.
“Okay.” Coop transferred Zoe into Nora’s arms and sat across from her. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Nora slung the flannel blanket over her shoulder, draped it across Zoe and reached beneath it for the buttons of her blouse.
“You don’t mean to do that here? Now?” Coop’s gaze darted around the room, seeming to log every male in the vicinity. “I mean, you did it last night, but there are more people here today.”
Sensing it was feeding time, Zoe kicked and gave an impatient shout. Coop stared at the undulating blanket and then leaped to his feet to stand in front of Nora, blocking her from the view of most patrons with his broad shoulders.
His Sir Galahad moment gave Nora pause, as did the way his long dark hair brushed his blue flannel collar. She remembered the texture of his hair. It was as soft as Zoe’s. She remembered being held. His arms were strong and steady. Why did he have to be so sigh worthy?
Thankfully, before Nora lost herself to further fantasy, the mood in the bar seemed to shift. Conversation stalled. Footsteps approached their table.
“Hey, Tatiana,” Coop said coolly. “Thanks for coming down. Can you wait for me at the bar?”
A young woman with teased and curled black hair slipped into the booth and sat across from Nora. She was gorgeous, rail thin and seemed entitled, if her intense scrutiny of Nora was any indication. She was just the kind of woman Coop would want at his side. The kind of woman Nora had pretended to be the night they’d met: polished, sophisticated, feminine.
A shaft of jealousy pierced Nora’s chest. Coop had asked Tatiana to meet him at the bar. She couldn’t even subtract points. This wasn’t about following her heart and giving up her body on a believe-in-love-at-first-sight whim. It wasn’t about telling herself in a bar that the earth had shifted and the stars had aligned and by some twist of fate she’d met The One. Coop wasn’t hers to be jealous over.
“A baby from the Heartbreakers’ Trinity,” Tatiana said in a voice as smooth as her cherry-bomb-red lipstick. “I had to see if it was an angel or a devil that brought you down, Coop.”
Nora stopped peeking under the blanket to see if Zoe had fallen asleep or was just taking a break. “Excuse me?”
“The Heartbreakers’ Trinity is what we local women call Ty, Gideon and Coop.” Tatiana’s smile wasn’t lady-killer hateful. It was almost...wistful. “Three gorgeous, unattainable guys. Many have tried. None have succeeded. And yet here you are.” She glanced up at Coop. “I’m disappointed.”
Nora felt every extra pound of baby weight tackle her feminine pride and pound it into the mud. “He’s not mine,” she managed to say, feeling a cold draft swirl around her ankles. Did no one in this town stay home in a snowstorm?
“But you did catch him.” Tatiana’s gaze turned appraising.
“On accident, I assure you.” Nora wished Zoe would finish, wished Tatiana would go away, wished the snow would let up. None of which happened.
Coop glanced over his shoulder. “All right, then,” he muttered and then raised his voice. “Ladies, thank you for coming to the grand opening of Trinity Matchmaking. We’re going to help you find your happily-ever-after. Who wants to sign up first?”
“That depends,” Tatiana said slyly, still appraising Nora. “Are you an eligible bachelor, Coop? Or are you offering someone like Mike Lopes?” She pointed to a long-bearded man near the window. “Because if it’s Mike, I’m out.”
“Agreed,” said a woman wearing the thickest pair of false eyelashes Nora had ever seen.
“Hey, I’m offended.” Mike frowned. Or he might have frowned. Hard to tell behind his bushy beard.
“Let’s not objectify each other based on appearances,” Coop said with a surprising amount of authority. “We’re going to have you take a survey that identifies what you’re looking for in a soul mate and predicts who best fits your dreams.”
“We’re in test mode,” Gideon admitted from the bar, avoiding eye contact with just about everyone. “So we may ask you to take the survey more than once as we refine the algorithm.”
“And to make things less awkward, because we all know how uncomfortable dating can be...” Coop worked that smile of his for all it was worth. “We’re planning group excursions where we’ll pair you up with potential matches. Matches you should know today if you sign up.”
Gideon frowned, looking as if he wanted to take that last sales promise back.
“And during our introductory period, sign-ups are free.” Ty held up a clipboard. “What have you got to lose?”
Nora had the distinct impression that the would-be matchmakers were flying by the seat of their pants. There was something about Coop’s smile that was strained, Gideon’s gaze that was nervous and Ty’s voice with its forced cheer. It was her father all over again. Still, they had some takers. People were moving toward Ty.
“Our first event is next Saturday morning,” Ty was saying. “An ATV trail ride.”
“Tell all your friends.” Gideon smiled like a college intern giving his first sweaty-palmed business presentation.
“All your single friends.” Coop broadened his still-fake smile.
Nora was almost sorry she was going to miss their event. Not the part involving ATVs, but the part involving these three bachelors convincing this group of set-in-their-ways singles that they’d found their perfect match.
* * *
“NORA, CAN YOU fill out a survey for me?” Gideon asked thirty minutes after they’d officially opened for business when, miraculously, they hadn’t been laughed out of the bar.
The question left Coop feeling as though he’d been checked from behind and slammed into a wall. “Not her.”
“Why not?” Gideon glanced up from his laptop.
Coop couldn’t look Gideon in the eye. “She’s not exactly single.”
“I am single and I’d be happy to fill it out.” Nora had Zoe on her shoulder and was walking an imaginary track around the bar with a bounce in her step. She stopped next to Gideon’s bar stool. “But it’s only a test. I’m leaving as soon as the bus is cleared to go.”
“You, too, Coop.” Gideon handed him a sheet of paper.
Coop stared at the survey in horror. “Why do I have to fill one out?”
“Because if my survey matches you with Tatiana, we’ll know the algorithm isn’t working.” Gideon left them to pass out more tests.
“Ah.” Nora’s smile was too knowing. “Tatiana broke your heart.”
“It was more like a head-on train wreck. She’s several years younger than me and sneaked into my bedroom one summer night minus a layer or two of clothes.” He’d reacted to the ambush with horror and a firm rejection. “I haven’t slept with the window open since.” He watched Nora burp the baby the way he’d watched Coach demonstrate a new hockey move back in the day: with a keen desire to learn. “Have you ever had your heart broken?”
“Not by a guy.” Nora must have realized how odd that sounded because she quickly added, “By my dad. He was a charmer, a frivolous dreamer and a drunk like...”
“Like me.” Coop couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “You were going to say like me.”
She almost looked remorseful. Almost. “What am I supposed to think? We met in a bar. You charmed my heels off and never called me back.” She glanced around. “You hang out in a bar all day. And you probably think matchmaking is an easy way to riches.”
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
He almost wished she would. “You haven’t even looked under my hood to see what kind of man I am.” Lately. But it wasn’t an issue of how well they knew each other physically. “First off, there aren’t too many places to hang out in K-Bay, especially in winter. Second, you may have noticed I’m drinking water. And third, if I have anything alcoholic here, it’s one light beer and only a couple of times a week.” He sounded far too serious, as if he cared about her opinion. His habits were none of her business. And yet he didn’t stop there. “As for frivolous dreams and matchmaking, I’ve always wanted to leave Alaska. I almost made it once on Ty’s coattails. And I almost made it away to college.”
“What happened?”
“Ty nearly died in a hockey accident and then Pop nearly died in a fishing accident. I couldn’t leave either one.” And now, when he was on the verge of leaving again, he was a father.
In Nora’s arms, Zoe drew her little legs up and released them like a leaping frog. She made an indelicate grunting noise.
“What’s happening?” Coop was filled with the need to comfort the baby. “Do you need me to take her?”
“She’s about to mess her pants.” The way Nora said it implied he had no idea how to change a diaper, not that he could argue with that. “I’d let you take her, but he who holds the baby when she goes,” Nora said in a soft croon, “changes the baby when she goes.”
Zoe repeated her frog-leg movements and grunted some more.
“Just because I hang out in a bar doesn’t mean I can’t change a diaper.” Brave words for a confirmed bachelor. “I know how to properly strap in a car seat. I know the importance of a favorite pacifier.” He didn’t want to relive the day he’d learned that lesson at the car lot. “And I know moms need breaks.” He held out his arms. “I’ll risk it.”
“It’s a sure thing.” Nora maneuvered Zoe for a transfer, but not before the baby pulled up her legs once more and made a sound that rivaled Pop after Beanie-Weenie night at the bar.
“On second thought.” Coop took a quick step back. “This one’s on you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“WE’RE IN TROUBLE.” Gideon angled his laptop on the bar so Ty and Coop could see.
“What now?” Coop didn’t think his nerves could take any more matchmaking drama. There was enough drama in his personal life.
Gideon tapped the screen with his pencil eraser. “Ty was matched with Tatiana—”
“No, dude.” Ty hung his head. “No.”
“—and Coop with Mary Jo.”
There was a twang of something in Coop’s chest. Disappointment? How could that be? Coop wasn’t looking for love.
He glanced over at Nora, who was eating lunch with Mary Jo. She fit in easily with the crowd, as if she’d always belonged here. Zoe slept peacefully in a portable bassinet at her feet. The snow hadn’t relented. Twenty feet in forty-eight hours. The single population of K-Bay that they’d managed to bring to the bar would be finishing up lunch soon. They’d be expecting to hear who their potential matches were for next Saturday. They’d want to leave, run errands and go home.
“The test was too shallow.” Gideon clutched the placket of his polo as if it was a tie, stretching the fabric downward. “It didn’t discriminate with enough precision.”
“We’re going to be the laughingstocks of the town.” Ty chugged half his water.
“Nobody panic.” Coop ignored the panic flipping through his stomach and removed Gideon’s hand from its stranglehold. “We can say the computer crashed.”
“What?” Gideon sputtered back to life. “That’s like saying I’m incompetent.”
Coop lowered his voice. “Then let’s just announce their matches are a secret until the ATV event.”
Nora brought her plate over to the counter. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. I was matched with Coach.”
The elderly bar owner stopped filling soda glasses with ice and took Nora’s measure. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s a bad thing because—” Gideon lowered his voice “—you’re married.”
“Then, you shouldn’t have had me take the test.” Coach flashed a mischievous grin at Nora. “Keep in touch. Mabel could kick the bucket any day.”
“And so could you if Mabel hears you talking like that.” Ty glanced over his shoulder as if expecting Coach’s wife to be there with a loaded shotgun.
“It didn’t match you with Coach, Nora,” Coop said wearily. It hadn’t even matched her to him.
“That’s a relief,” Nora said with a pained expression. “I hate to tell you this, but your questions read like the ones from a list in a glossy magazine. I don’t think I want to know who I was matched with.”
Gideon snapped his laptop shut and glared at Ty, who did the back-away shrug and said, “They were your magazines.”
“Ah, the sweet smell of disaster.” Coach finished prepping his sodas and hefted his tray, leaving the trinity of matchmakers with Nora.
Nora considered their pathetic mugs far too long before saying anything else. “I told myself I wouldn’t butt in. However... If you want to match people with their soul mates, maybe you need to think longer term than a one-nighter.” At Coop’s blank, shocked look, she added, “You didn’t ask where I saw myself five or ten years from now. You didn’t ask if I enjoyed cooking or gardening or puttering around a garage. Don’t you think it helps if you have common interests?” Her gaze fell away from Coop’s. “Women want fun, but in the end they all fall for a guy who does the dishes.”