Page 31 of The Merry Matchmaker

“Okay, happier?”

She frowned. “I should get home. I have paperwork I have to catch up on.” What that paperwork was she wasn’t sure, but she’d think of something. And she’d definitely think of a reason to say no next time Brock suggested getting together. This wouldn’t work. She didn’t care if he could dance.

“Okay,” he said, and called for the check. “But I’m not giving up.”

Temperatures had dropped while they were in the restaurant, and once outside Frankie saw the light snow that had fallen earlier had turned into a crust of frozen lace that crackled when they walked on it. She slipped a little, and Brock took her arm. Then, someone new appeared, taking her other arm. Where had he come from?

“Mitch, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Brock demanded. “You said you had plans.”

“Met someone in the bar for a drink,” Mitch said, tugging Frankie a little closer to him.

Brock tugged back, making her feet slide.

“Hey, you two, this isn’t tug-of-war,” she protested.

“Sorry,” Brock muttered. Then, to Mitch, “I’ve got her.”

“You sure?” said Mitch.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Mitch let go, and Brock escorted Frankie to her car, which wasn’t parked far away. In fact, from where he was leaning in the restaurant’s doorway, Mitch had a very good view of the two of them.

“I had a great time,” Brock said. “I think you did, too, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I enjoyed the pizza.” The conversation, not so much. It had left her feeling unsettled.

“Give me a chance to show you some more good times.” He caught both her arms and gave her a gentle pull toward him.

This was how the ocean felt when the moon called to it. Powerful as the sea was, the moon was stronger. Primal urges drowned common sense. Maybe she should give him a chance. Give herself a chance.

Brock almost had her lips.

She could feel Mitch’s gaze as if he was standing right there between them. She glanced his direction. Yep, there he still stood, leaning against the building, one ankle crossed over the other, his hands shoved in the pockets of his peacoat, an eyebrow cocked as if to say,What are you doing?

She recentered herself and turned her head so that all Brock caught was her cheek, then smiled up at him. “Thanks again for dinner,” she said, and slipped into her car.

She drove home, thinking of celebrity matches where the woman had been older, ignoring the success stories and dwelling on the ones that hadn’t worked out. Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher came to mind. So did Hugh Jackman and Deborra-Lee Furness. Infidelity, infertility, losing the zing—all were causes cited in media speculation. Zings could, of course, be lost at any age, any time, but why stack the odds against you?

She drove cautiously, slowly...like an old woman. No, like a woman who didn’t want to skid into anything.

She passed Adele’s house on the corner of her street. The Christmas lights winked at Frankie from the roof, and through the living room window, she could see images flickering on her mother’s TV. Adele was probably watchingElf, her holiday favorite. If Frankie had been smart, she’d have turned down Brock’s invitation and joined her mother.

The rest of the houses on her street all greeted her with glowing multicolored lights, inflatable snowmen and Santas waving at her from their yards as she drove past. Then came her house, with the wreath on her red front door and the icicle lights Mitch had strung for her dripping along the roofline. She smiled at the sight. She loved her house. She loved her life. She didn’t need to be shaking it up with a man she’d never become serious over.

But dancing at the White Owl?

Bad idea, Frankie. He can’t replace Ike.

Once inside, she turned on her electric teakettle and pulled out hot cocoa mix along with her bottle of peppermint schnapps. She and Ike had loved to drink jazzed-up cocoa on a cold winter’s night.

The memory of them curled up, side by side on the couch, drinking and listening to Christmas music made her sigh with yearning as she dumped the packet of cocoa mix in her mug.

She had just finished making her drink when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find Mitch the guard dog standing on the porch.

Honestly, she wouldn’t stalk him if he was out with someone. At the rate he was going, he was getting a dog collar for Christmas.

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