A Match Made at Christmas - Courtney Walsh Page 0,21

around the island all year round. He was the reason Prudence chose to live here. He taught her a trade when college was too expensive. She had a lot of reasons to love the guy.

And when he left the island five years ago, after a bitter divorce from a woman no one in town had ever really liked, he sold the surf shop to Prudence. Because of him, she had a good life and a career she could be proud of. She’d never said so, but Howie was the closest thing to a father Pru had ever had.

“Maybe I should see if I can find Peggy,” Hayes said. “You two go catch up.”

Pru looked at him, her eyes wide. “Oh, right. Peggy.”

“Something wrong with Peggy?” Howie asked.

“Other than the way she dashed out of here like she’d seen a ghost,” Pru said, “no.”

“I’ll see if I can help her out with the rest of the preparations here,” Hayes said. “We’ll meet up later, Pru?”

She nodded, then glanced at Howie. “Shall we?”

And as much as Hayes didn’t want to be Nantucket’s matchmaker, he had a gut feeling he couldn’t ignore.

Peggy Swinton was about to be matched.

Chapter 8

That Ship Has Sailed

“Still carrying that torch, I see.” Howie leaned back in the sprawling booth of a quiet Nantucket bistro right downtown.

Pru scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

Howie quirked a brow in her direction, and she knew there was no point pretending with him. He’d always been able to read her like a book.

“Is it that obvious?”

The waitress brought their drinks and Pru stuck a straw in her Cherry Coke and took a drink.

“Those straws are killing the turtles.” Howie nodded toward her drink.

She glanced up and found him watching her, his unwrapped straw still sitting on the table. She pulled the straw out and set it on her napkin. “Happy?”

“Indeed.”

Howie talked a lot like the surfers who came in from California. Not a drawl, but a slow cadence that would’ve likely lulled her to sleep if she weren’t on high alert thanks to his unwanted observations.

“And to answer your question,” he said, “yes, it is that obvious. At least to me. He seems oblivious though.”

She sighed. “Or he knows, and he pretends not to. Probably doesn’t want to have to let me down easy.”

“Maybe,” Howie said. “At least he knows a good thing when he sees it.”

She rolled her eyes. Hayes might know a good thing, but he didn’t want it—not for himself.

“Have you told him how you feel?” He picked up his glass and took a drink.

She shook her head. “I can’t risk losing him. He’s my—”

“Best friend,” he interrupted. “I know. You’ve been saying that for a lot of years.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“It’s also a great excuse not to put yourself out there.”

She narrowed her gaze, thinking it felt strange to see him in anything other than an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and board shorts. He was out of place in his full-length pants and gray sweater. Somehow, he was still that same bronze color he was in the summer. She supposed that’s what happened when you spent your retirement hopping around various sun-filled islands.

“What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“You put yourself out there?”

He sighed. The waitress reappeared, sliding loaded plates on the table. When they told her they didn’t need anything else, she disappeared. Pru’s question and Howie’s sigh still hung in the air.

“Well?” She picked up her sandwich, aware that there was no way she would finish this meal after such a large breakfast. And for a fleeting moment, she wondered what Hayes was doing right now.

“You know I put myself out there plenty,” he said. “Bit me in the keister. I’m happy on my own.”

Howie had been married to a woman named Tammy who had frizzy hair and a permanent scowl. Pru used to be offended that Tammy didn’t like her until Nantucket locals told her Tammy didn’t like anybody. Not even Howie, it seemed.

She’d married Howie before he quit business school in favor of a life on the beach, and she’d never accepted his surf shop as a legitimate business. Never mind that Howie was smart enough to invest his profits. Now, the man had plenty of money to spend his retirement exactly how he wanted—on the beach.

Howie had sold Pru the surf shop for a dollar, making it clear the only thing he wanted in return was for her to have a happy life.

Was she living up to her end of the deal?

“Don’t you think maybe there’s