Mistletoe Matchmaker

“Oh, no, I know you’re on a tight schedule.”

“I can spare some time,” he said. Not exactly true, but close enough.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her green eyes starting to glow with hope. “I hate to impose.…”

“I’m sure,” he said. “I can probably track down the files in a half hour or so.”

“You think?” She touched his arm. “Oh, that would be great. And I tell you what. Since you’re doing me a favor, why don’t I take Jade off your hands for the next few days? She can hang out here with me, Peter and Parker during the day.”

Relief shot through him, taking his mind off the warm spot on his arm where she’d touched him. Dog problem solved. “That’d be great.” Definitely worth an hour, tops, of his time.

“You have time to take a look now?” she asked.

He gestured to the back room where he’d seen her desktop computer yesterday. “Lead the way.”

Just as he started to follow her back there, the door buzzer went off again. He and Molly turned in unison, and Jade let out a happy woof and ran to greet their visitor.

Phoebe walked into the store. She bent down and gave Jade a good ear scratching, then straightened and headed their way, waving colored papers in her hand.

“Hey, Phoebs,” Molly called. “I bet you’ve got flyers, don’t you?”

“I sure do, all made up for our Christmas specials,” she said, handing him and Molly each a bright red piece of paper. An impish grin took over Phoebe’s mouth. “In honor of the holiday, our flavor of the month is Candy Cane, and it’s really good. Buy one scoop, get one free through the end of the year.” Phoebe gave Molly a wide-eyed, unblinking look. “Maybe you two could stop in together sometime soon.”

Molly pursed her lips and glared at Phoebe. “Or maybe Grant could stop by and you two could have ice cream together.”

“I’d be working,” Phoebe said matter-of-factly. “No time for socializing.”

“Oh, and I have unlimited amounts of time for hanging out and eating ice cream?” Molly retorted, flipping her hair, her green eyes flashing like emeralds.

Grant hesitated, puckering his forehead, his gaze swinging back and forth between Phoebe and Molly. What was going on?

Then they both spoke at once, their words mixing up until he couldn’t understand either of them.

“Whoa, whoa, ladies,” he said after a few seconds of verbal mayhem, holding up both hands.

They both abruptly stopped talking and swung their gazes toward him.

“What’s up?” He put his hands on his hips. “I feel as if there’s some weird subtext playing out here that, frankly, I don’t really understand.”

Neither woman spoke. Instead, they just kind of glared at each other, their mouths tight.

Finally, Phoebe huffed, flopped the flyers down on the counter with a whap and said, “I guess I’ll warn you, since Molly will strike before you know what’s coming.”

“Warn me? Strike?” He grimaced. “What in the world are you talking about, since I doubt we’re on the subject of war games here?”

“Molly’s our resident matchmaker, and she’s quite good at it.” As she spoke, Phoebe unbuttoned her coat. “If you’re not careful, she’ll have you and me talking china patterns by the end of the week.”

Cold-edged surprise bounced like a rock through Grant. He turned to Molly, his jaw tight, his brow line raised so high he doubted he had eyebrows. “Is this true?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze and remained suspiciously silent. Just tongue-tied? Or guilty as charged?

He was confident it was the latter.

Despite the store being kept at a very temperate seventy degrees, burning warmth flared in Molly’s cheeks as she tried to look anywhere but at Grant’s accusing stare.

Uneasiness poked her. Maybe her matchmaker idea hadn’t been a good one, after all. Or maybe she should have told him about her plan, even though that wasn’t usually the way she worked.

“Yes. Yes, it is true,” Molly answered honestly. Lying had never been her style. “I’m a matchmaker on the side.”

He looked at Phoebe, seemingly for confirmation.

“She thinks I should be dating,” Phoebe said matter-of-factly, a brow quirked.

His gaze came back to Molly, then narrowed. “When were you going to clue me in?” he asked, his voice edged in steel.

She squirmed. Oh, boy. Why did she feel so…guilty? She’d had only good intentions. But maybe a man who didn’t date wouldn’t see things her way. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

“Soon,” she said in a placating tone. She continued on, feeling the need to explain why she hadn’t told him about her plan. “But I’ve found I can make better matches if the people I’m matching don’t know exactly what I’m doing right away.”

Grant frowned, then looked at the floor, shaking his head.

Molly’s bravado faltered. She liked his smile and direct gaze better than his obvious disconcertion. A lot better.

Phoebe stepped forward and piped in. “Actually, that’s true. She gets what she calls ‘love hunches’ and usually finds ways to get people together pretty much out of nowhere.”

“Love hunches?” Grant’s brow knitted. “Care to explain?”

At least he was interested in her romantic intuition, rather than simply scoffing and writing her talent off as ridiculous right off the bat. “Certainly. Since I moved here, I’ve discovered that I have the ability to…know who would be a good love match for whom.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “How do you know this?”

“It’s hard to explain.…”

“Try,” he said levelly.

His serious tone took her aback. She nodded, wanting to salvage what she could of her pride. “My love hunches are just a…feeling I get every so often.”

He paused, seemingly to mull over what she’d said. Finally, he said, “Someone besides me can’t possibly know what I’m feeling at any given time.” He looked away, then swung his gaze back to Molly. “Don’t you tell people when you’re working away behind their backs, figuring all of this out?”

Molly swallowed. “See, the thing is, I can get a better idea of a person’s personality if they’re—”

“Clueless?” Grant said, cocking that brow again.

“Well…yes.” Sounded worse than it was. “Once someone knows I’m trying to figure them out, they clam up and act funny. The other person will only see what I see if both act naturally. Like their true selves.”

He paused again, obviously digesting what she’d said.

Molly glanced at Phoebe, grimacing speculatively as if to ask whether he was going to twirl his finger next to his temple to show how loony he thought she was.