Page 41 of Bad Girls Don't Marry Marines (Rock Canyon, Idaho 3)

“Oh, is that lucrative?”

The song “Gold Digger” popped into his head, and he smiled. “We do okay. We’ll never be millionaires, but it’s in our blood.”

“Oh,” she said, frowning.

“Dorothy mentioned you’re a dental hygienist. How do you like that?”

“It’s okay, although I’m kind of between jobs right now,” she said, twirling a piece of blond hair aro

und her finger. “My boss and I were kind of seeing each other, but then things got complicated, so I quit.”

Justin had a feeling Mindy from California was also a homewrecker. But when his gaze flicked toward Val, whose eyes were shooting daggers at him, satisfaction spread through him. Giving her a wide grin, he turned his attention back to whatever Mindy was saying.

Maybe the little old lady is on to something.

VAL CRANED HER neck to see where Justin was sitting and tried to tamp down the spark of insecurity that had been festering ever since she’d seen him sit down next to the Barbie doll with the big teeth. Not that she was jealous or anything. She liked him; she thought he was a nice guy, but she still didn’t want a boyfriend.

Someone tapped a microphone, and Val turned away from Justin and the plastic blonde. On a small stage stood a short, round woman with her silver hair put up in a large bun. She tugged down the microphone, muttering, “Blast it, can somebody fix this thing?”

There were a few laughs from the audience as a man ran on stage and adjusted the mic. The old woman smiled, patted his hand as he left, and said, “There, that’s better. I swear, I’ve lost two inches in height since yesterday. One of the gifts of getting old, I suppose . . . reverse growth spurts.”

This time the audience laughed freely, and she smiled out at the crowd.

“Thank you for joining us. My name is Dorothy Love, if you didn’t know already, and I am so happy to welcome you to True Love. As you know, this is our one hundred and fiftieth year of matchmaking, and although the science has changed a bit, the ending is still the same. We want you to leave True Love having found your soul mate. That one person who makes you complete.”

As she looked around at the rapt attention on the faces of every other person in the room, Val almost scoffed. Did they really buy this load of crap?

“When my great-great-grandparents, Ian and Aileen, came over from Ireland, they were very much in love. They had risked everything to be together, but when they arrived, they had a hard time in New York. After seeing a flyer advertising land and the great frontier, they decided to head west to start their new life. Their wagon train settled here, and they created the original town, even built the very first hotel. And business was good. But when Ian passed away, Aileen was heartbroken. Still, she knew what they’d shared was real and rare, and as a lone woman in a new land, she went back to her roots. Her mother had worked as the local matchmaker back in Ireland, and she’d learned the trade well. Having already found her great love, she set about finding other’s theirs.

“So, she turned the small parlor of their hotel into a social salon and put advertisements in papers as far away as New York City. ARE YOU LOOKING FOR LOVE? was the headline, and below she offered to find you your perfect match—for a modest fee—no matter how long it took. Then she took two pieces of wood, one for the sign and one to stake it into the ground. On the first she painted two words: TRUE LOVE. It was in remembrance of the man she had lost, but soon that became what visitors called our little dust-bowl town.

“People traveled from all over to be matched by her. In fact, hanging up in the visitors’ center today is a copy of that advertisement and the marriage license of the first match she ever made. For one hundred and fifty years, Aileen; her daughter, Darcy; my mother, Clara; and now I, have been matching people, and helping them find that elusive thing we all search for: love.

“This weekend, I follow in my family’s tradition by promising you that somewhere out there is the man or woman you were meant for, and come hell or high water, I will find them for you!”

Applause erupted, and Dorothy waved her hands to quiet everyone.

“Now, I know most of you filled out a questionnaire when you arrived at the meet and greet last night, but if you didn’t, please fill out the one in front of you now. After breakfast, we’ll be breaking up into groups, which are color-coded. Your group color can be found under your plate.”

Val flipped over her plate and found a red square. She glanced up and caught Trent holding up a red square her way. Val had a suspicion that Dorothy Love had already gotten an idea about who she belonged with. She smiled and waved, but she was more concerned with what group Justin was in. She looked at him again, but he was laughing at something blondie was saying.

“You’ll be visiting different parts of town,” Dorothy continued. “Each stop teaches us about who you are, and what your relationship strengths are. Please make sure to stay with your group and participate in every activity. We’ll meet for lunch right here around one, and then continue activities until just after four. Tonight is our dinner dance, which will start at six-thirty. Your seats will be assigned based on compatibility, so please don’t trade seats. The dancing will commence right after, and I’ve been told that the way a couple dances can tell a lot about the way they’ll connect in . . . other ways.”

Hoots and hollers greeted her innuendo, and Val was a little surprised by the ribald joke coming from the older woman’s mouth. She could never imagine either of her grandmas alluding to sex in any way.

Good for her.

“And that rounds out our first day of activities. Food’s coming around soon, so mingle with your tablemates and have fun. If you have a questionnaire, hold ’em up high so we can grab ’em from you. Thanks for visiting True Love, folks, and don’t be shy. Mingle, talk, flirt . . . whatever it is you young people do these days.”

Val looked at the questionnaire next to her plate with the black ballpoint pen on top and picked it up with a sigh.

“You missed the meet and greet?” the man next to her asked, his voice a nasally whine. Maybe he had a cold.

His blow horn of a sneeze answered her question, and she scooted away just a bit. “Yeah, I fell on the way over—”

“Oh, you’re the accident-prone girl,” he said before turning away from her to have a severe coughing fit.

Her mouth flopped open. Accident-prone girl? The nickname wasn’t even catchy.

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