Page 10 of My Mismatched Valentine

Kissing Dustin seemed like the most logical way to avoid answering his question. Marry him? I definitely can’t. But last night I sure as hell wanted to say yes. I really, really wanted to throw caution to the wind. Kissing him was the only way I kept those stupid words lodged in my throat where they belonged.

Karl laps up the milk, completely uninterested in my troubles.

Just as well.

“It’s my job to get to know him,” I tell the cat who’s not listening. “That’s why it feels like I’ve known him for so long.” I spent hours asking question after question the night before last. Some of them incredibly personal, and borderline invasive, questions. Especially the sex ones. A quiver between my legs nearly causes me to lose balance. I grip the countertop edge, trying to keep steady.

“I need to fix this, Karl.”

He looks up from his empty bowl, no doubt waiting to see if I’ll refill it. When he realizes I’m not moving, he lets out a yowland struts out of the kitchen in search of a patch of sunshine on the back of the couch for his midmorning nap.

I refocus my attention, flipping through my notes. I stop at a list of local names I’d compiled. Caribou Creek has a surprising number of singles—womenandmen. If this insane plan works out, and I can revive my career off the coattails of that success, I might be able to open a boutique office right here in town.

I scan the list, stopping on the first name that strikes me.

Andie Jensen.

“It’s worth a shot,” I mumble to myself because Karl has long since abandoned me. I grab my car keys off the hook—thankful that Karl didn’t punish me by batting them under the fridge last night—and head for the local bakery.

I’ve managed to arrange a personal tour ofBarks & Bushy Tails Homesteadtomorrow. I’m hoping to wrangle at least three prospective candidates and let fate sort out which of them might click best with Dustin. I’ve invited Grandma Olive, as well as Kash and Charlotte—though I’m not sure they’ll come up for air long enough for a group outing. I need a few people who aren’t part of the matchmaking to make things less awkward and meet the minimum number of guests for the private tour.

I avoid driving by theCaribou Creek Breweryon my way to the bakery. The less reminders of that sinfully delicious make-out session from last night, the better.

Baked by Andieis the cutest shop in existence. There’s a quirky charm to every inch, from the purple painted bricks, to the whimsical sign and the fun window displays of today’s cupcake specials. I’m particularly tempted by the Eat Your Heart Out red velvet cupcakes that are a mixture of romance and sass. Each one has an oversized candy heart in the middle with a spunky phrase.

“Hey Maggie.” Andie waves from the register as she finishes ringing up Betty Bennington.

“Do you need help carrying that out?” I offer after noticing the two stacked boxes. Betty is a friend of my grandma’s and as petite as they come.

“Oh, thank you dear, but I got it. Been taking some of those fitness classes Wes Ashburn teaches.” Betty smiles at me as she stuffs the change into her purse. I suspect she catches me scanning her haul because she adds, “The ladies finally let me back into bridge nights, so I want to keep them happy.”

“That’s great news.”

“Hey, heard you had a snafu at your matchmaking event. Everything okay? Etta Carver offered to run that reporter out of town, and the rest of us agreed to help.” I can picture it now. The gaggle of elderly woman chasing the weaselly reporter down main street, each one of them toting shotguns. “Just say the word, and she’s as good as gone.”

“A snafu?” Andie repeats, eyebrows drawn close in a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“That’s actually why I came to talk to you,” I say to Andie, hoping she catches my subtle headshake before I settle Betty’s good intentions. “No need to run her out of town. I’m not even sure she’s still here.”

“Oh, she’s still here,” Betty groans. “Rose refused her service at the diner this morning. Ruffled that woman’s feathers a great deal. Serves her right for going after one of our own. From what I hear, your brother is smitten with his new gal. Who cares how it happened?”

Kash hasn’t left his cabin since he carried Charlotte away to it two days ago. My text invitation to play with husky puppies tomorrow has, so far, gone unanswered. I’m not about to go check on the lovebirds, either. “They’re both very happy.”

“Why the hell didn’t that reporter write aboutthat?” Betty stops with her back pressed against the door. “Say, I heard that mystery fella is still in town and looking for a hot date. Thinkhe’d go for an older gal?” Betty winks, zipping out the door before I can answer.

“Mystery fella?” I see the reservation etched into Andie’s features already. We’ve been friends since high school. Long enough for me to remember how hot and heavy she and Douglas—or Stormin’ Norman as everyone else now calls the marine—were up until the day he left for the service. Though she swears she’s gotten over him, I suspect that’s not the case. I’m about to find out if she’s interested in moving on, though.

“Might as well ring me up a couple of those Eat Your Heart Out cupcakes while I explain.”

To be fair, Andiedoeslisten without interrupting. I’ve always admired that quality about her. The moment I suggest she tag along tomorrowjust to see, her expression goes from blank to all screwed up. “I believe in you and your abilities, Maggie. You were the one who pointed Douglas out to me in high school.”

Not the best example considering that ended on less than great terms.

“But I don’t think Devon—”

“—Dustin.”

“—is the one.”

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