Secrets of the World's Worst Matchmaker Read online

  “He’s engaged to some French veterinarian doing her internship with Dr. Murphy.”

  There goes that fist squeezing my heart again. French, beautiful, intelligent, and has a helluva lot more going for her than me. I’m sure she would’ve been up in time to get the donuts.

  Before I can turn around for a better look at them, the bell above the door rings and Grandma Dori enters the small bakeshop and cafe as though she owns the place. One of the things I love most about her is that she does what she wants, damn the consequences. The woman’s been hurt just like us. She’s lost her husband and her son, yet she lives for her nine grandchildren.

  “Juno!” she says with excitement.

  I turn around fully, glancing at the women to my right. Their faces pale like gossiping church women who got caught by the preacher.

  “Hi, Grandma,” I say.

  She hugs me tightly. She’s been hugging me tightly ever since Colton announced his engagement six months ago. She, along with all of my family and probably most of this town, thinks I’m heartbroken. Well, I might be, but I have a doctorate in denial and know how to smack on a smile and assure her I’m fine.

  “I was going to go see you after I had a morning coffee with my friends.” She gestures to the women. “Come say hello.” She drags me toward them, but I stop.

  “Let me pay Greta first,” I say.

  She releases me, and I head to the cash register while Grandma Dori goes to the table. I hear all their exchanges of, “it’s been too long” and “I missed you.”

  “Thanks, Greta.” I accept the small box from her.

  Grandma Dori is busy, and I might be able to sneak out of here. I’d suffer the consequences later, but they might be worth it. Then again, do I want Grandma Dori busting into my meeting with a potential new client? The answer to that would be hell no. So instead of dodging her, I figure a polite hello and goodbye will be sufficient.

  “Juno!” Grandma catches me in her peripheral vision like the hawk she is.

  “Hi, Grandma.”

  The first woman looks familiar, but I don’t know her name. The second woman looks at me with scrunched-up gray eyebrows.

  “This is my dear friend, Nelly, from Fairbanks. She grew up in Lake Starlight but moved away when you… well.” Grandma Dori looks to Nelly for confirmation.

  “I think you only had a couple grandkids then.” They all laugh.

  “Yeah, I suppose you have been gone for decades, not years,” the other woman says, putting out her hand. “I’m Willa. We were all high school friends.” She twirls her finger between them.

  I shake her hand. “I’m Juno Bailey.”

  “Are you the one who married the tattoo artist?” Nelly asks.

  “No, that’s Savannah.”

  She nods. “The one who’s married to the New York millionaire?”

  Grandma Dori giggles and her chair screeches across the floor, her hand reaching for me before I bolt. “Juno’s our matchmaker.”

  She wouldn’t be the proud grandmother with her arm around me if she knew I’m late on my rent this month.

  “That’s interesting,” Nelly says in the same tone I’d expect if my grandma had told her I’m the tarot card reader with the giant neon sign off the highway.

  Meanwhile, Willa keeps staring at me with a puzzled expression. “I never would’ve guessed that you were a Bailey. Dori, where does the red hair come from?”

  I suck in a breath without breaking my smile. This question has plagued me my entire life. People blatantly ask if I’m adopted or if I dye my hair or, worst of all, a foster child the Baileys took into their home. Not looking like any of my siblings is an ongoing joke. Thanks to the movie Cheaper By the Dozen, I was called FedEx the entire year I was eleven. I still feel a kinship with Mark Baker from that movie. Being the red-haired kid in a huge family royally sucks.

  Grandma looks at me with a sweet smile—the one reserved for when she knows someone is poking an open wound. Austin gets it when people talk about baseball. Savannah when they compare her to our dad in regard to running Bailey Timber. There’s a list for each one of my siblings.

  “She gets it from my daughter-in-law, Beth’s side,” Grandma Dori says. “They have matchmaking in their blood as well. Right, Juno?”

  I smile at my grandma, giving my rehearsed spiel. “There’s a long line of matchmakers on my mom’s side. My Aunt Etta was kind of famous for matchmaking famous actors and actresses for years. Casting directors would hire her to figure out who had the best chemistry before casting a film.”

  “That was ages ago. In the nineteen-forties and fifties,” Grandma chimes in.

  Neither Nelly nor Willa seem like believers in the matchmaking profession though. Just like me, they smile to be polite.

  “And who are you married to, dear?” Nelly asks.

  Well, thank you, Nelly. Lay me on the table and slice me open, why don’t you?

  “She’s not married yet. But if I look into my crystal ball, I see that her guy is about to walk into her life any time now.”

  The bell over the door chimes and we all turn as if Grandma’s a fortune teller. In walks Colton, my best friend and the man currently starring in my wet dreams. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. I do not want to do this with him in front of Grandma Dori.

  “Grandma,” I say, sighing heavily. She must have caught him in her peripheral hawk vision.

  Colton spots us on his walk up to the counter. “Ladies.” He dips his head in our direction like a true gentleman.

  His dark hair is perfectly styled and he’s freshly shaven, his collared shirt tucked in with no tie. At least he’s not wearing his white medical jacket with his name embroidered. That’s made too many appearances recently in my recurring dreams. He turns to Greta to order, displaying his ass in a pair of snuggly fit khaki pants. I swear even Willa whimpers.

  “I should get going.” I kiss Grandma on the cheek and turn to the women. “Very nice to meet you both.”

  They say their goodbyes, although their eyes linger on Colton.

  Willa touches my arm. “If you can get me a guy like him, I’ll sign up for you to match me.”

  My smile slips for a second. Oh Willa, there’s a long line of women who want in Colton’s pants, and I should warn you, I’m scrappy.

  “You never know who you’ll match with,” I joke.

  “I’ll come by later,” Grandma says.

  Jeez, the whole reason I stayed here to get judged by her friends was to avoid a visit from Grandma.

  “I heard Harley wasn’t feeling well,” I lie.

  She nods and her eyes scrunch. “I better check if she needs help with the kids then.” She looks at her friends. “That’s Rome’s wife. Three kids and another on the way. I just love being a great-grandmother. They need me so much.”

  I giggle and walk toward the door.

  “Juno. Hold up,” Colton calls out as my hand is on the door to push through.

  I wasn’t trying to dodge him. I mean, if he really wanted to talk to me, he knows where to find me. My office is literally one block over from his.

  “I figured you were in a rush?” My gaze dips to his two coffees. One for him and one for Brigette, the French goddess. I push the door open and he says the words I’ve dreaded since I made a fool of myself when I got drunk at my sisters’ triple baby shower last week.

  “I think we should talk,” he says.

  Of course he does. We’re opposites in every way. He likes to talk all his shit out and I’d rather shove it under a rug.

  Three

  Colton

  * * *

  I gave Juno a week and still, she’s trying to sneak out behind my back.

  At least she actually holds the door open for me. I step out holding the coffees and fall in line with her down the sidewalk. I was on my way to the vet clinic when I spotted her inside Sweet Suga Things. It’s about time we hash out what happened.

  Without saying a word, we reach SparkFinder, Juno’s matchm
aking business. She positions the box from the bakery under her arm so she can fiddle with her keys. Usually she would’ve given me the box to somehow Jenga my way into holding two coffees and a box. I guess we’re still in that uncomfortable space.

  She flicks on the lights in the small office that holds her desk and a few chairs. No one really ever has to wait to see her since it’s mostly by appointment only. There’s a room in the back for when she does open companion calls, which is when anyone can come in to be matched with a specific bachelor or bachelorette.

  Juno only did two years at college in order to explore what she views as her calling, passed down to her by her ancestors. She truly believes she was born with the gift to match people. The gift of knowing who can reach their fiftieth wedding anniversary versus the ones who will never see past one date. All because she has the same hair as her great-aunt Etta. I humored her through the years but finally challenged her once after biology class when we learned about recessive and dominant genes. One of the many things I love about Juno is the way she can block out any rational explanation for something she believes in. She thinks I don’t see the true reason she’s so hell-bent on claiming the genealogy, but I do.

  “I’m sorry,” she says to the pink bakery box instead of me, setting it down and opening it up.

  “You don’t have to be sorry.” I sip my coffee.

  “You have to be kidding me.” Her chin falls to her chest in pure defeat.

  She’s struggling with all the Bailey family dynamics, so if whatever is in that box will finally allow her to let it all out, I’ll call Dr. Murphy and tell him I’ll be fifteen minutes late.

  But she turns away from the box, snapping the head off a dinosaur cookie with her teeth. “Greta must have thought I was getting the cookies for Harley.”

  I walk over and peek in the box to find dinosaur, flower, and baby rattle cookies. “Who are they for?”

  She rounds her desk, pretending to go through a stack of papers that I know are print-offs of clients’ personal data. “A new client.”

  “Rolling out the red carpet, huh? What about the water and bags of chips or crackers you usually offer?” I attempt a joke, but she doesn’t laugh.

  “I really want him as a client, so I figured I’d schmooze him so he signs today.”

  “If he’s smart, he will.”

  At least we can still hold a conversation.

  She peeks up and smiles. Her makeup is heavier today, her hair more curled. This client must be important. “I shouldn’t have done what I did. I put you in a horrible situation.”

  I shake my head. “It’s fine. Honestly.”

  She nods. “It was wrong to Brigette. It’s just…”

  A large part of me wants her to continue. Tell me why she suddenly wanted to kiss me that night, but the other part, the part that knows I can’t entertain that option, says it’s a good thing the words go unspoken. “It’s okay, Juno. I’m not going to tell her anything. We’re just getting used to this new situation.”

  A new situation that I caused.

  “Friends?” she asks, smiling at me.

  “Always.”

  Her chest rises and falls with a deep breath, and her gaze darts to the clicking clock that’s the only sound in the room.

  “Oh, here you go.” I set her coffee on her desk. “I better go. Rhys is coming in with his new dog today.”

  “You don’t have to give me Brigette’s coffee just because I’m upset.” She picks it up and holds it out to me.

  How did I not consider this wedge Brigette is putting between us? “I bought the coffee for you.”

  “Oh.” She sips it as if she needs the caffeine to survive. “Thanks.”

  I nod. “Brigette only drinks from Brewed Awakenings. Says it’s the most like back home.”

  Her small smile falls. “I better get set up for him.”

  “How about we have lunch? Tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Text me. Sorry, I really have to use the bathroom.” She sets down her coffee and walks away. “Have a great day.”

  And the bathroom door shuts.

  Usually, I’d bust the bathroom door open and call her out on her bullshit, but since I’m the reason she can’t look at me, I leave.

  “Bonjour,” Brigette says when I walk through the back door of Four Paws Veterinary Clinic. She’s already wearing her white jacket and holds her Brewed Awakenings coffee in hand.

  “Good morning.”

  She sits at the small table in our break room while I go to my locker to put on my white coat.

  “You seem down,” she says.

  I shake my head. She doesn’t need me to convey my guilt that my best friend has no idea how to handle the fact I’m getting married. So much so, that she convinced herself a week ago that she wanted me. I’ve made my feelings clear over the years, but Juno’s always had a Heisman trophy arm poised in my direction. I understood her hang-ups about us being a couple, but it didn’t make it any easier to take. I’ve done stupid shit witnessing her with someone else too, so can I really blame her? No.

  “I’m fine. Just Monday.” I slide my arms through my white jacket and shut my locker.

  “Are you sure? You can talk to me about anything.”

  Brigette knows the situation with Juno, and I could talk to her about it and she’d understand, but I think she might feel bad about it too. And right now, I just want to drown myself in work.

  “No, you ready to start the day?” I ask.

  She nods, sipping her coffee. I pick up mine and we walk to the receptionist’s area. Our vet assistant, Hillary, is prepping the paperwork.

  “Good morning, Hillary. Morning, Lori,” I say to Hillary and our receptionist, Dr. Murphy’s sister, Lori.

  “Good morning, you two lovebirds.” Hillary winks.

  Brigette slides her arm through mine and rises on her toes to kiss my cheek. “I’m afraid my fiancé has a horrible case of the Mondays.”

  They both laugh because Brigette has been brushing up on her American movies. I made a list of my favorites and she pulls one line out each time she watches one.

  “Office Space.” We look up to see Rhys standing in the small welcome opening. “I believe you have my stapler.”

  We all laugh. Rhys is a tattoo artist down at Smokin’ Guns, which Juno’s brother-in-law, Liam Kelly, owns.

  “Hey, Rhys.” I put my hand on Lori’s shoulder. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you that Rhys was coming in this morning. I ran into him this weekend and he adopted a new puppy.”

  “Okay, I just need you to fill out this paperwork first.” Lori slides out of her chair to grab a prepared clipboard. “I would’ve had the file prepped if I’d known you were coming, so you wouldn’t have to fill it out while holding your dog.”

  Lori’s neurotic behavior shines brightly in front of our newest customer. Although if Dr. Murphy ever retires, I’m sure it’ll be part of the agreement that I have to keep Lori on.

  “I’ll watch him.” Brigette sips her coffee tosses the cup in the trash can, nudging me out of the way. I’ve never seen her not finish her entire coffee—except when I took her to Lard Have Mercy once. She lives for the stuff.

  “Oh, that would be great.” Rhys eyes her from head to toe now that she’s on the other side of the window.

  Brigette is beautiful. She danced for years until she found her true passion was animals. She came to Alaska on vacation and decided this is where she wanted to go to school, if for nothing more than to experience living in Alaska. She’s kind of a bucket-list girl, which scares me because I’m not a bucket list kind of guy. I’m born, bred, and happy to die in Lake Starlight. But she swears she loves it here, so all I can really do is trust her.

  “Rhys, this is my fiancée, Brigette,” I introduce them, which causes Rhys’s gaze to snap back up to Brigette’s eyes instead of her breasts.

  She does dress in some revealing tops on occasion. Dr. Murphy told me Lori doesn’t approve and would like me to talk to Brigette about it now
that we’re engaged, but I’d rather be hit by a Mack truck than tell a woman another woman disapproves of what she’s wearing.

  All I hear is Brigette ‘cooing’ and ‘ahhing’ over the new dog, Clyde. I peek over the ledge to get a look at the breed and type. Usually I can predict the type of dog someone will buy. The fact that Austin, Juno’s older brother, got a husky fits. Austin loves the outdoors and would want a dog who loves it too. Juno’s sister, Brooklyn, has Gizmo, who is a cross between husky and corgi. One look at her and her husband, Wyatt, says they’re purse-dog people. Nothing too big to ruin their expensive stuff.

  I would have expected Rhys to get a Labrador or a golden retriever. A big dog that needs exercise. Not the bulldog that’s slobbering all over Brigette’s coat at the moment. The name Clyde fits him perfectly, but I’m surprised Rhys would pick such a lazy dog.

  Rhys finishes fairly quickly and hands the paperwork to Lori, but instead of letting me take them to go examine the little guy, Lori insists she needs to make up the folder first. So we all wait for her to color code and label it, then type information into the computer. She’s organized, don’t get me wrong, but she’s inflexible.

  Finally, she hands the folder to Hillary, her dark eyes on me. “She gets it first.”

  I raise my hand. “Hillary, let me know when you’re done.”

  I disappear before I say something I’ll regret. Something that would cause Dr. Murphy to have a conversation with me. Something that could jeopardize me getting the practice.

  “I’ll be just a moment.” Hillary smiles and opens the door to the waiting room. “Come on in, Clyde.”

  “I think he’s in love,” Rhys says.

  I glance over my shoulder to see Clyde nestled in Brigette’s arms, his face right between her large breasts. I huff a laugh because I’m pretty sure it’s not only Clyde who likes what Brigette has to offer.

  Four

  Juno

  * * *

  I’m sitting at my desk, looking through files of the women who came in a few months ago for another bachelor, pulling out the ones I think might be a fit based on the little bit of information I got from my potential new client on the phone.