Make Me A Match (The Matchmaker)

  She waved dismissively. “Where’s your sister?”

  I shrugged. “Running, or maybe volunteering at the animal shelter. No doubt doing something to make the world a better place.”

  Grandmother sighed. “If you’d just apply yourself, darling…”

  First Lizzie was telling me to start wearing makeup, and now Grandmother was telling me to apply myself? What did that even mean? I wouldn’t have been offended, but that guy Owen hadn’t even tried to cop a feel when I’d pulled his body to mine. Heck, maybe they were right.

  Annoyed with myself for caring, I threw my hands in the air. “Okay, back to the reason for your wonderful visit.” I moved around the dining room table and kicked my clothes to the side, taking my frustration out on the mess.

  “Can’t a grandmother visit her grandchild?”

  “No, not when I need to sleep. I was working last night.”

  “Work?” She gave a refined snort. She’d made it perfectly clear what she thought of our business. Grandmother had actually told the women at the country club that I was a freelance photographer. “If only your grandfather had gotten rid of that business years ago.”

  “Well, we had to make a living somehow.” Not that I didn’t want to be a photographer. I’d tried photography, but the only job I could get was taking pictures of snot-nosed brats at the mall.

  “You don’t have to make a living, you know that. You can always reside with me.”

  When I didn’t respond but instead made myself busy, heading toward the refrigerator, she sighed.

  “Fine.” Grandmother stood and smoothed down her skirt. “You obviously don’t want me here.”

  I rolled my eyes. Grandmother had passive-aggressive down to a fine art. I felt way too shitty to deal with her crap. “I’m just not used to you visiting so early in the morning. You know I’m a night owl.”

  The woman looked somewhat appeased and my unease lessened. Lord, I wished I could feel something toward the only relative who’d remained in our lives. Dad was long since dead, and I’d thought his family was, as well. Mom had moved to Florida with her new fling two months ago, and who knew if she’d ever return. Grandmother was my closest living relative. Instead of finding comfort in her proximity, I was uneasy, to say the least. It didn’t help that ten years ago she’d married some rich CEO and had practically left the family behind.

  She settled back on the edge of the couch as if she meant to stay. It was my fault for being nice. I should have remained in bed. “Eight in the morning is not early for most people, Emma.”

  People with real jobs. The words were left unsaid, but might as well have been spoken aloud. I knew Grandmother wasn’t here to reprimand me for my late nights, or a job she deemed ridiculous. I leaned against the counter and waited. Something else was coming, I could sense it. The air practically vibrated with unease.

  “So,” I started. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up? Is that what your online education has taught you?”

  I smiled tightly. Grandmother had promised to send us to private school if we’d live with her. As if that were some sort of incentive. Instead, I’d started at an online public school last year in order to run the business and continue my education.

  “Grandmother,” I drawled out.

  She glanced at her perfectly manicured fingernails, dragging out the visit until I thought I’d go insane. Finally, she looked up. “Well, there is one thing.”

  “Really? Shocking,” I muttered under my breath as I pulled out a box of breakfast tea from the cupboard above the sink.

  “Excuse me?”

  I plastered a smile upon my face and glanced back. “Nothing. What is it?”

  “Your Aunt Clarice has died.”

  Startled, I dropped the tea, the bags scattering across the floor. “Aunt Clarice?” I looked at Grandmother, the tea forgotten on the wooden floorboards, but I could read nothing in the old woman’s face thanks to her monthly Botox injections. “I’m…sorry?”

  “Of course you should be sorry. She was your aunt.”

  I knelt to scoop up the bags and stuff them back into the box. “You knew her?” I frowned. “I don’t remember meeting her.”

  The teapot whistled, startling me once more. With shaking hands, I took it off the stove and poured steaming water into two coffee mugs. What the heck was going on? Who was this aunt and why was she so important?

  “You never did meet her,” Grandmother explained.

  “Okay.” I paused, holding the teapot aloft. First Owen and his dire warnings about death and Aunt Clarice, and now Grandmother? What weren’t they telling me? And there was no doubt something odd was going on; Grandmother wouldn’t be here otherwise.

  “So then, who was she? Why is she so important?”

  Grandmother shrugged, looking disgruntled and a little confused herself. “She’s not important, I suppose.” She was quiet for one long moment as I placed a bag of tea in each mug. “So, are you all right then?”

  “Of course. I barely knew her.” I strolled across the living room and handed Grandmother a cup. She wrapped her pale hands around the mug. She might be able to smooth the wrinkles from her face, but the thin skin of her hands showed her true age. The old woman stirred her tea over and over again, but didn’t actually drink. It was the first time I’d seen Grandmother so contemplative. Usually she knew exactly what she was going to say and had no reservations about giving her opinion.

  Confused and more than a little leery, I said, “There was a guy here, though, yesterday. An Owen Emerson.”

  Grandmother jumped, the surprise visible as her hazel gaze pierced me with an unwavering determination. “What? Who? What’d he say?”

  I slowly settled in the chair across from her, slightly nervous. Grandmother was like a wild animal and you never knew when she would attack. “He claimed that Aunt Clarice left me something.”

  All color drained from her face, leaving her so white, her Protestant forefathers would have been proud. The mug tilted from her hands. I dove forward, catching it before it dropped to the ground. “Grandmother, are you all right?”

  “Did he say what she left you?” She spoke so softly, I had to strain to hear her.

  I set the mugs down. “No. I told him I didn’t want it.” I started to stand, thinking perhaps I should call someone…her doctor, Junior, anyone. But before I could reach for the phone, Grandmother took my hands, her soft fingers cold.

  “Stay away from him, Emma. You understand?” Her hazel eyes were direct and sincere, yet at the same time there was real fear lurking in their depths. I’d never seen Grandmother afraid. No, the world feared her, not the other way around.

  The situation had truly taken a turn for the bizarre. “If you tell me why.”

  The woman dropped her hold, the hardness in her gaze returning. She’d never liked being ordered about. “Because…they had nothing to do with you. It would be disrespectful toward our family.”

  “Okay,” I drawled out. Why did I have the feeling there was more Grandmother wasn’t telling me? Things Owen hadn’t admitted? I’d had way too much drama in my young life; I didn’t need more.

  “And because they’re insane.” The old woman stood. Ha, insane? As if she and Mom weren’t? “You’re coming to visit me this weekend.”

  “But, Grandmother—”

  “Pack. Call your sister and tell her to pack too.” She lifted her Coach purse. “I’ll be back in a while to pick you up. I have some shopping to do.”

  Shopping? Right. Grandmother had complained more than once about the lack of quality merchandise in our town. In a swirl of Chanel, the woman left the apartment. Like a tornado, she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving destruction in her wake.

  I snorted in amusement and disgust. She expected us to be ready and waiting when she returned. But I had never done what Grandmother demanded, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  ********

  The bell overhead tinkled a manic greeting as I pushe
d the door wide and moved into the Perky Bean. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee soothed my agitated soul. Grandmother was normally odd, but this morning took the cake. No way was I going to stay with the old bat. We wouldn’t last an hour without trying to kill each other.

  “Yo, Flo, how’s it go?” Jerry swept past me, his bongos on his back, a cup of coffee in his hands. His mellow personality certainly wasn’t from the coffee.

  “Hey, Jerry, how’s it going?” I wasn’t sure what his real name was, but I’d started calling him Jerry because of his love for tie-dye, and the name had stuck. He didn’t seem to mind. But then again, nothing seemed to bother him. I wished I could be so at ease. Maybe I needed a big cup of whatever he was drinking.

  He stroked his long gray beard. “Good, good.”

  I moved into the shop where patrons were eagerly waiting in line, their nervously tapping feet giving away their need for a coffee high. Jerry was just one of the many flavorful locals who made this town of misfits a place where Lizzie and I belonged.

  This early in the morning, the line was long. How I loved the fact that I had no crappy job, no real schedule. Everyone pulsed with a frantic need to go, annoyed with work, with life. Fortunately for me, I could just sit back and observe the hectic pace.

  “Emma!”

  The sound of the familiar voice sent my heart pumping into overdrive. A wide smile spread across my face. I had a love-hate relationship with men. Most of them I hated, but this man—with his dark hair and black eyes—this man I definitely could love. Just like that, the morning suddenly seemed brighter.

  “You’re here early.” He paused next to me, the spicy scent of his aftershave intoxicating.

  “Hey, Tony.” I left the line, weaving my way around tables and chairs to meet the café manager in the middle of the room.

  He gave me that sexy smile, a dimple flashing in his left cheek. “Got your drink and Danish.” He held up the coffee cup and a white bag.

  I sighed, pressing my hand to my heart. “God, what would I do without you?”

  He rested his hand on the small of my back. The man was the definition of Latin sexiness. “Go into a coma from lack of caffeine?”

  I nodded seriously. “Yes, probably.”

  He laughed again. “Have time to chat?”

  Heck, yeah! “Sure.”

  We settled at the corner table that had become our regular spot. I looked forward to these brief moments, and on the days when he was too busy to chat, I cursed the customers. The rising sun pierced the tinted windows and glinted off his dark hair. That tanned skin, those dark eyes… It was all I could do not to launch myself at him. We’d been flirting for weeks and I wasn’t a patient person. Would he ever ask me out?

  Maybe he already had a girlfriend. I wouldn’t have been surprised. Tony was everything a woman would want. Tall, built, and gorgeous. And most importantly, he owned a coffee shop. It’s not like we’d be together forever, but while our relationship lasted, I’d get free coffee. What more could a girl ask for? If he didn’t ask me out soon, I’d bite the bullet and do the asking.

  He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs. “How was your weekend?”

  “Great, great. Lots of fun.” If one found hiding behind bushes and running for your life fun. Tony had no idea what I really did for a living. I’d told him I worked for my family business, but men got weird around me when I admitted I spied on their gender. “Yep, lots of fun, lots of friends.”

  I resisted the urge to cringe. Nothing like trying too hard.

  He smiled, flashing perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “Well, great.”

  “And you?”

  “Yeah, I’d say I have lots of friends.”

  “No.” I laughed. My last boyfriend had loved my laugh. He said it made him want to laugh too. Unfortunately, he also loved women…lots and lots of women. Yep, I’d dated a cheater. The irony wasn’t lost on me. “Did you have a good weekend?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, rather low key, but nice.”

  The door opened, the bell overhead ringing.

  Tony frowned. “He’s new.”

  I turned, following his gaze. There, in the doorway, stood a man I never expected to see again. “Owen,” I whispered so low he couldn’t have possibly heard me, yet he looked my way.

  He tilted his head in acknowledgment but didn’t start toward me. Instead, he merely settled patiently at the back of the line, waiting his turn, that briefcase in hand. He didn’t fidget, he didn’t check his iPhone as most people were doing. He merely stood there, eyes ahead, back straight. Who the heck was he and why was he stalking me?

  “So, I’m having a little gathering at my place Saturday,” Tony explained.

  Reluctantly, I pulled my gaze from Owen. Dang it all, I couldn’t concentrate on Tony with Owen standing not ten feet from me. “Great, a gathering. Can you hold that thought for a moment?”

  Not waiting for his response, I jumped from my chair and weaved through the crowd. Dang, but he smelled just as good as before. Maybe better. “What are you doing here?”

  Startled, Owen glanced down at me. “Good morning.”

  Was he seriously pretending to be surprised? “Don’t good morning me,” I hissed. The woman in front of us glanced back curiously. Nosy witch. I inched closer to Owen. “What the heck are you doing here?”

  He shrugged, wearing another suit that fit him to perfection. This one was dark, matching his black hair. So incredibly different from Tony. Whereas the café manager was relaxed in his jeans and T-shirt, Owen was all business seriousness. “I’m getting tea.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and glared up at him. “Of course you’re getting tea.”

  He moved up with the line. “Is there a problem with that?”

  I scurried after him. “I find it odd that you just so happen to enter the café that I frequent.”

  He shrugged. “As I had papers to give you, I checked into the B&B just across the street. This is the closest café.”

  It sounded reasonable. I wasn’t buying it. “What do you want from me?”

  He moved up a few more steps. “I thought I’d made myself quite clear. I’m here to deliver the papers that state your aunt’s possessions now belong to you.”

  I glanced back. Tony was watching us curiously. I could only hope that was jealousy in his eyes. “Her possessions? Such as?”

  “A small cottage in France.”

  I jerked my gaze back to Owen, Tony all but forgotten. “France?” Unwillingly, my interest piqued. How often had I dreamt of visiting Europe? But I didn’t want to be interested. Taxes would probably be ridiculous. I didn’t know a word of French. Not to mention I was only seventeen, could I even legally own anything? The loft and business were in Mom’s name.

  “But that’s not important,” Owen said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Right.” I flushed, feeling somewhat greedy for my interest. “What is then?”

  His gaze was so serious, as if the very weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders. Was he always this solemn? Did he ever relax, go wild? “We need to talk, Ms. Watts.”

  “Your tea, sir.” The man behind the counter handed Owen a cup.

  “Thank you.” He nodded his appreciation.

  As I waited for him to continue with our line of conversation, he turned and left me standing there, apparently finished. I frowned, annoyed. So glad we could have a clear and not at all confusing conversation once again.

  “Where are you going?” I called out a little too loudly, I realized, as patrons glanced our way.

  Owen didn’t bother to turn toward me, but said over his shoulder, “To sit, if that’s all right with you.”

  I started after him, catching up as he settled at an empty table near the windows. “What about the papers? You said I had documents.”

  He picked up a forgotten newspaper. “I thought you didn’t want anything from your aunt?”

  So, that’s how he was going to play it? I gritted my
teeth, resisting the urge to slap the paper from his hands. “Don’t be difficult, Owen.”

  He glanced up at me and smiled as if having the time of his life. It was disarming to see that grin. Even more disarming was the odd warmth that swept through my body at the sight of his crooked smile. “You remembered my name. I’m honored.”

  I flattened my hands on the tabletop, leaning toward him. “What are you doing here? What do you want from me?”

  He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. The movement tightened his jacket across his broad shoulders, and I was painfully reminded of how muscled he was.

  “I’m done playing your games,” he said. “Instead, I’ve decided to sit back and wait. I’m very patient, you see.” There was an arrogant confidence to him that surprised me, confused me, when I thought I’d had him pegged.

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  “You’ll understand soon enough.” He lifted the newspaper, scanning the articles and dismissing me altogether. Thoroughly intimidated, I stepped back. What sort of teenage guy read the newspaper, anyway?

  Done playing games? Ha. He was obviously a master at game playing. Well, I wasn’t about to fall for his trap. Reluctantly, I moved back to my table, feigning indifference.

  “So, you dating that guy?” Tony asked.

  “No!” I practically yelled. “No, not at all.”

  He grinned. “Sorry, looked like a lover’s spat.”

  I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. “No, just business.” I reached for my cup, playing with the cardboard sleeve and doing my best to ignore Owen’s presence. “Anyway, you were saying something about a party?”

  He raked his hands through his dark hair, leaving it endearingly tousled. “Oh, right. Saturday. You should stop by.”

  A thrill of success shot through me. I smiled, batting my lashes as I’d seen Lizzie do. “Sure, yeah. Just tell me when and where.”

  I should have been thrilled, and I was, but I couldn’t help but think of Owen sitting directly behind me. Tony grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen from his back pocket. “We’ll barbeque. Not too many people. Should be fun.” He scribbled his address on the napkin. As if I didn’t already know where he lived. Please, it was the one great thing about being a PI, knowing everything there was to know about anyone. Except Owen. I knew so little about the man and had been unable to find any information on the web.