Page 22 of The Matchmaker and the Marine

Melinda was surprised at the gentle tone in his voice.

“A lot of his buddies used to hang out at our place and they were always laughing and joking around.”

She was interrupted when Molly came over. “Hey you two, is dinner ready? I can corral the troops.”

Adam held up the platter. “We are.”

Molly turned around, put her fingers in her lips and whistled. “DINNER!” She grinned. “That should get them moving.”

For a moment Melinda felt a stab of emptiness. She closed the lid on the grill after running a wire brush over the grates, thoroughly cleaning the remnants of fish off. She wished John could be here to meet these wonderful people who had become her good friends.

When she looked up, she saw Will was watching her. He said, “Thanks for cooking. If Adam had, who knows how much char we’d be eating instead of this delicious-looking fish.”

Melinda smiled, happy to be distracted from the melancholy moment. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” She looked across the yard to where Adam was peering into the drink cooler. He held up a bottle of beer in her direction and she nodded. “He seemed to have it under control.”

Will’s gaze followed the direction Melinda nodded in. “You know I’m really glad you and Adam have become friends.” He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. “When he arrived, he was at loose ends, and frankly I was worried about him. Meeting you seems to have brought him out of his shell.”

“I’m sure it must have been an adjustment retiring from the military and moving to a new town, but he had you, Stacey and all your friends for support.”

Will slowly nodded. “Don’t let his happy go lucky demeanor fool you. There’s a lot going on behind his grin and teasing facade.”

“Will, I think what you and Stacey did, renting him your garage apartment, was the best thing for him. He had friends, who are more like family, as neighbors from day one.”

Will folded his arms over his chest. “Was it hard moving here by yourself?”

“Not really. I was ready. Leaving Philly was the only decision I could have made. It was time.” She didn’t want to relive the memory of packing each box with John’s personal belongings after the house had been sold. Reminding herself this was a party and not the time to take a sad stroll down memory lane, she forced a sunny smile. It didn’t matter—Will didn’t know it was fake.

“Mel?” Adam touched her arm. “I brought you a beer.”

She accepted the frosty bottle and kept the smile plastered to her face. Her voice strained, she said, “Thank you.”

“Hey, you look a little pale. Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No, I’m fine.” She grinned and took a sip of her beer. “Just parched.” She teased, “Doing your job was thirsty work.”

Adam let out a big laugh and clinked bottles with her. “And you did it admirably. I can’t wait to eat.”

Melinda swallowed the lump in her throat. “Let’s find a place to sit and for giggles, I’ll let you fix me a plate.

“By all means, chef, it would be an honor.”

He gave her a quick salute and Melinda felt the stranglehold around her heart loosen just a bit. Losing John was horrible, but being around good people, and Adam, made it just a little more bearable.

She looked at Molly and Tim. After all, today was a happy day.

Chapter 10

Adam checked his email. He had one from Mel. With a sinking heart he saw a new match. Did he really want to do this again?

When clicking on the attachment, he saw a picture of a woman, Laura, who looked a lot like Anita. His first reaction was hell no. His second reaction was to read the bio.

He scanned the contents, but his eyes kept drifting back to the picture. Nope, there was no way he could date this woman. It was like looking at his ex’s long-lost twin.

He quickly composed an email to Mel and then deleted it. He’d tell her in person when he went back to work at her place. It would give him a good reason to talk to her again. Maybe he should ask her out for ice cream or something else equally innocuous.

Checking his cell, he saw Will and Tim had texted saying they’d meet him at his place. It wasn’t often he had to ask for help, but his buddies knew setting the posts would be challenging without the extra hands.

He got up from his desk and, hopping on his right leg, made his way to the sofa. He sat down and picked up a gel-padded liner. Starting just under what was left of his kneecap, he rolled it up his thigh and into place. He then took the soft cotton sock from the coffee table and slipped it over the liner. Finally, he positioned the prosthesis and stood up. Bearing down, he waited for the series of clicks, confirming it was secured in place. He rolled his pant leg over the hard plastic and titanium.

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