A Match Made at Christmas - Courtney Walsh Page 0,12
a little crazy.”
“Then why did you say you would do it?”
He sank into the couch and let his head rest on the wall behind him. He released a heavy sigh. “She guilted me into it.”
Pru shook her head. “How?”
“She flattered me and told me she had a sense about me. Said I could read people. That I could disarm them. Said I was the only person she’d even considered asking to do this big favor for her.”
“Ah, so she stroked your ego,” Pru said.
“I guess.”
She grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him, hitting him square in the face. “Then it serves you right. You let your pride get you here, Hayes McGuire.”
He stuffed the pillow on his lap and leaned forward over the top of it. “This is crazy, Pru. I’m not a matchmaker.”
She watched him. “So, don’t do it.”
He frowned. “I can’t back out. I gave her my word.”
It was odd to see him so conflicted over something that didn’t really seem that important.
“When a McGuire gives his word, he means it,” Hayes said.
“Your dad said that, right?”
He shrugged. “Who else?”
Hayes might be a commitment-phobe, but he was a good person. His parents had seen to it that he was. And now, as he looked at her with those big hazel eyes, it nearly left her undone.
“Will you help me?”
“Me?” Prudence knew even less about relationships than Hayes did.
“Yes, you’re the only person who knows.” He reached for her hand and she forced herself not to think about how it felt to touch his skin. “The only person who can ever know.”
She leaned forward and whispered, “Are you going to get struck by lightning for blabbing this to me?”
He leaned forward too, close enough that their faces were only a few inches apart. “I hope so,” he whispered. “Then I won’t have to become a matchmaker.”
They sat like that for several seconds, both leaning toward the other one. In other circumstances, had they been different people, perhaps they may have ended the exchange kissing furiously on the couch.
But because they were who they were, they simply grinned at each other and pretended there was absolutely nothing electric in the air between them.
Well, she pretended. It was likely Hayes didn’t feel that spark at all.
“Pru.” He scooted over to the loveseat where she sat and faced her, practically on the same cushion as she was. “I’m not a matchmaker.”
He was close to her now, like a friend, she told herself. But if she happened to fall just a few inches, their faces would end up dangerously close to each other again.
“You know I can’t do this without you.”
“Hayes, as terrible as your relationships have been, mine have been worse,” she said.
“Like you and that Hawaiian surfer?”
She straightened. “What Hawaiian surfer?”
“The one who kissed you on national television?”
He saw that?
“You made him a board, right?”
She looked away. “I set him straight real fast.”
Hayes went still. “Did he hurt you?”
She looked at him. “No, of course not.” Not really. Not the way he was thinking. Yes, he was too forward and yes, he might’ve touched her inappropriately, but Prudence Sutton was nobody’s fool. She took care of him without a second thought. “But he’s not allowed to ride on my boards anymore.”
“Wow,” he said. “Impressive.”
She smiled. “I can handle myself.”
“I know you can.” He glanced at the box. “And you can handle this too.”
She shook her head. “Are we leaving? Because if yes, we need to go. Main Street is probably already crawling with people.”
He sighed as he stood. “Fine. But think about it, okay?”
“Fine.” She pulled her coat on, fished her gloves out of the pockets, and found a stocking cap in a box by the front door.
“You gonna put that on?” he asked.
She glanced up. “I was going to. Keeps the head warm.”
He smiled.
“Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “You just look pretty with your hair down is all.”
She had to turn away so he didn’t see her blush. Unfortunately, she turned straight toward the mirror and caught him looking at her. She tugged the hat over her long waves, tucked her hair behind her ears, and faced him.
“Oh, never mind,” he said. “Now you look downright gorgeous.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Why did he have to make pretending she didn’t love him so darn hard? She rolled her eyes, for effect. “Let’s go.”
They stepped out into the night, enveloped by cold and lit only by the faint glow of the moon. There was something romantic about Christmas on Nantucket,