A Match Made at Christmas - Courtney Walsh Page 0,27

Hayes slept soundly on her couch, holding on to her feet like a boy with a teddy bear. She’d been somewhat aware of him rubbing them, but she’d gotten so relaxed, it must’ve put her right to sleep. And now, she was waking up with Hayes.

Okay, not really, but she let herself cling to the fleeting thought, just for a minute.

She shifted slightly, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked around, confusion on his face. “I fell asleep.”

“We both did.” Pru pulled her legs from his lap and stood. “I guess we were tired.”

He stretched. “I actually feel rested.”

She glanced down at him. “Is that rare?”

He met her eyes, then looked away. “Unfortunately.”

“You still don’t want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” He stood. “If that’s okay.”

“’Course.” She picked up her half-empty coffee cup and walked toward the kitchen.

The house was bathed in sunlight and silence. Hayes followed her. “You need a Christmas tree.”

She pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator and fetched a pan from the cupboard. “Eggs?”

“Sure.” He pulled a loaf of bread out of a high cupboard and stuck four pieces in the toaster.

“I do need a Christmas tree,” she said, cracking the eggs into a bowl. “I haven’t had time.” She stirred the eggs, then poured them in the pan.

“Let’s go get one today,” he said. “I’ll help you decorate it.”

She laughed. “Don’t you have better things to do?” She found two plates and set them on the table while he made a fresh pot of coffee.

“Well, I came here for you, so not really.”

The words lingered, threatening to give her away. I came here for you.

She righted herself with a nonchalant shrug. “All right, if that’s how you want to spend your Sunday.”

“Silverware?”

She moved out from in front of the drawer, and he opened it, grabbed the utensils, and finished setting the table.

“We can brainstorm ways to match Howie and Peggy.”

“I’m not sure it’s going to be an easy project,” Pru said. “They’re both set in their ways. What’s Peggy going to do, retire and move to Hawaii or New Zealand or wherever Howie’s living these days? She was born here; she’s a Nantucketer.”

Hayes cracked open a banana and took a bite. “Maybe she’s ready for an adventure. Something new and exciting to spice up her third act.”

Pru flipped the eggs as the toast popped, and Hayes buttered the warm bread. They moved in her small kitchen perfectly in sync, and she was keenly aware of it. She liked having him here—it put her at ease.

“Even if she is,” Pru said, “you saw her—she’s still hurt. Whatever happened between them, it was enough to stick with her for a long time.”

They carried the food to the table and sat down. “I know what happened. Her best friend snagged him, and then Howie ditched her. She feels betrayed.”

Pru grimaced. “And you’re sure he’s the one we’re supposed to match her with?”

“Positive,” Hayes said. “So, what would it take for her to realize she still has feelings for him?”

“Or what would it take for him to see her as more than a friend?” The question was out before she could stop it. Her eyes darted to his and hung there like a lasso on the moon.

She looked away.

“Right,” he said. “That would be tricky. If they had a history as friends, it would be hard to reimagine their relationship.” He took a bite of toast and forced her gaze.

“True,” she said cautiously. “But maybe he doesn’t have those kinds of feelings for her. What if he wants to keep things as they are? Or were, I guess.”

He washed down the bite with a sip of orange juice. “Then I guess she’ll just have to do something to show him she’s interested.”

Pru frowned. “Why? Why can’t it be on him to make the first move?”

“Well, she’s a modern, independent woman,” he said. “He wouldn’t want to insult her by presuming she wasn’t able to speak her mind.”

Pru’s heart raced. Why did this conversation feel loaded? They were talking about Howie and Peggy, right?

“And really,” Hayes said, “what do they have to lose? You know, if they give it a try?”

Pru shifted. “A lot, actually.”

He frowned. “Really?”

“I mean, she may really value the friendship. And what if it doesn’t work out between them? She’s just destroyed the best relationship in her life.”

Hayes set his fork down and held her captive with those hazel eyes. “But they’re not friends, Pru. They haven’t spoken in years.”

Well, shoot.

“Right,” she said dumbly. “They’re