Page 56 of Perfectly Matched: Harbor Falls Romance Collection

Easing himself down into a padded lounge chair on Suzie’s back deck, Sam exhaled long and stretched his aching legs out over the footrest. His brother, Jack, handed an icy beer his way.

“Oh, yeah...”

Sam said.

“I am so ready for that.”

“Just glad this job is done.”

“Ditto.”

“Figured Brad owed us a beer.”

“He’ll gladly give up a few beers in exchange for him not moving those hostas around.”

“Speak of the Devil.”

Both men turned toward the sound of tires crunching on gravel coming up the drive at the side of the house. They watched as Brad and Suzie parked the car and sauntered toward the deck.

“Hey guys,”

Suzie called out.

“Looks like you’ve been working hard.”

“Just a tad,”

Sam said.

“Hey, where’s Petey?”

“We dropped him off at my parents. Been a long day for him and us, and I for one am looking forward to a long hot bubble bath,”

she winked at her husband, “for two.”

Sam and Jack glanced away. Sam cleared his throat.

Then Suzie changed the subject.

“Oh, everything looks lovely, guys!”

Sam tipped his head.

“As I always say, we aim to please, Ms. Famous Cookbook Author.”

“And soon to be television personality,”

Brad added.

Sam sat up.

“Television? No joke?”

Suzie nodded.

“I’m going to have my own show on a new food channel.”

Then she did a real girly thing and squealed.

“Oh my God!”

She grasped Brad’s arm.

“I can’t believe this!”

Standing now, Sam reached out to shake Brad’s hand.

“Well, congratulations there, Mr. Matthews. You’ve got yourself a TV wife.”

Brad smirked and shook his hand.

“Just wait. I may not be the only one.”

Sam didn’t understand that.

Suzie elbowed her husband and gave him a look. Then she turned toward Sam.

“I thought about this all the way home, Sam. You’re perfect. Perfect! With those biceps and that tan of yours, the camera will eat you up. And so will your date. You have to say yes. It won’t take up too much of your time, and it’s going to be taped right here in the mountains, so please, just say yes.”

Suddenly, Sam was damn certain he didn’t like the sinking feeling in his gut.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve found you a date. A match! She’s perfect for you. And all you need to do is go on a little picnic up in the mountains. A blind date, sure, but you can handle that. Just you and the girl, and me and lunch, and well, the camera crew.”

“Camera crew?”

Sam backed off, easing his way toward the deck steps. “Oh, no.”

He didn’t need no stinkin’ matchmaker to get him a girl.

“Hey Jack, buddy, it’s time to go.”

His brother chuckled and stood.

“Sounds like this is just getting good.”

“Oh, please say yes, Sam! You’ll get paid, and you’ll be on national television!”

“Hell’s bells, Suzie! I’m a gardener from Harbor Falls. I’m not TV material! And I don’t want to date on national television!”

“Maybe not,”

she countered.

“but you are husband material. And I’m not taking no for an answer, Sam Ackerman.”

Even as he was shaking his head and backing away from Suzie, affirming to himself with each step of the way that he was not blind date, television, or husband material, he feared that sooner or later, Suzie would bat her Southern Belle eyelashes and get her way.

Dammit.

****

“I really, really need for you to come with me. Please?”

Shit. Damn. And no freakin’ way.

It was Saturday morning, one week after the book signing and Becca was standing in the door of her apartment looking out at Nora. Her friend wore jeans, hot pink rhinestone-studded flip-flops, and a matching pale pink tank top layered over another white tank. Her newly sprayed-on tan perfectly complimented the pastel pink. Her long hair was down, framing her face, her makeup perfection. She looked very, very beautiful.

Like a Barbie doll.

Her date would find her extremely difficult to resist, she was certain.

“You don’t need me there, Nora. You’re going to do just fine on your own. Besides, Suzie is so easy to deal with, any nervousness you might have she will immediately put at ease.

“I need you, Bec. Please?”

She gave her the famous don’t-make-me-beg look.

“Crap, Nora! You don’t need me hanging around like a third wheel, like some… Er, side dish!”

“Puh-lease?”

Nora pouted.

“I need for you to check him out. You know I have a difficult time with first impressions. I love every man who shows me the least bit of attention. I need an impartial party. I need intel. I need solicited opinions. You know I’m not good at this!”

No, you are not.

Becca felt herself caving. Sucker. She raked her fingers through a strand of hair.

“I need a shower.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I can meet you.”

“I’ll wait. Go.”

Becca resisted the urge to grumble.

“I need thirty minutes.”

“We’ve got plenty of time. Why do you think I got over here so early?”

“Conspiracy.”

“You’ll love it.”

“Doubt that.”

“Go, Becca!”

“Sheez!”

Okay, so I’m going. Against my better judgment, but all right. I’ll be the side dish. I’ll observe from the periphery. I’ll tell you later what I think. I won’t get involved.

Won’t. Get. Involved.

Repeat.

I won’t get involved.

****

Beneath a lazy maple sat a wooden picnic table draped in a bright red and white checked tablecloth. Becca watched, from the sidelines of course, as Suzie set the table with red dishes, white cloth napkins, and wicker accents. From a picnic basket sitting on a table off to the side, she prepared her dishes for the lunch.

Television people milled about, Nora was off being prepped by Ms. Plum, and Becca was perfectly happy to ease out of the chaos while leaning against a tree trunk, far from the maddening crowd.

She watched Nora, who was smiling and giddy. She’d been in contact with both Suzie and Patricia all week, getting pointers on this and that. She’d even had a private lesson with an acting coach just to settle her nerves. The one thing she had not concentrated on too much was the fact that she was going to meet a man—a man who might potentially be her mate. Becca hadn’t dwelled on it, either.

Now, however, it weighed on her mind.

On one hand, Becca wanted Nora to find someone who would be perfect for her. And, if Becca would admit it, she truly wanted to be there for Nora, to help her make this decision. On the other hand, she wanted no part of helping Nora to select a mate, because, well, what if she chose wrong? What if her gut instincts about the man were not on track?

She certainly didn’t want anything to come between them and their friendship. Mostly she didn’t want Nora to get hurt again. So truly, she had no choice here. She would peruse the date. Listen from the sidelines. Take in the nuances of the man. And later, tell Nora exactly what she thought.

“This whole thing is rather crazy, isn’t it?”

Jerked out of her musing, Becca glanced to her right and pushed away from the tree.

Holy shit!

Where he came from, she didn’t know, but before her stood a man. Tan, tall, and tantalizingly delicious. He was buff—the kind of buff that made you think he probably got that way from working outside, rather than working out in a gym.

Because, of course, that’s what he did. Work outside. Like, in a nursery.

Mr. Gardener Man?

No way! Did he remember her?

Becca sucked in a breath. He stood hands on hips peering back at her. Her gaze lingered for a moment at his waist—crisp white shirt tucked into worn jeans anchored by a brown leather belt at narrow hips—then slipped lower.

Crotch. Muscled thighs. Oh, be still my irrational, thumping, pumping heart.

“Yeah, crazy, huh?”

Did those words come from her mouth?

Pulling her gaze back up to look into his eyes, her mouth went dry. Hazel, with sunlight reflecting a bit of gold and lavender. Framed by thick lashes and perfectly arched brows, his orbs connected with hers and held. A breeze wafted between them and he reached up to smooth back his tousled, brown hair. His fingers were long, his hands large.

Just as she’d remembered.

Her heart kicked up a steadier beat.

“Where. Wha... Um. Where did you come from?”

Did her tongue work?

He shifted and looked over his shoulder.

“I came early and parked over there at that camp site. I figured I’d be more comfortable if I could check out the scenario ahead of time before all the hoopla started.”

Smart man. Was this...?

“Name’s Sam Ackerman.”

He thrust out his hand.

“And you are...?”

Spellbound.

His voice was smooth like expensive bourbon. She hadn’t remembered that. Her hand drifted up and he took it.

“Becca. I’m Becca North,”

she told him.

“I bought pansies.”

He snickered and smiled.

“I remember. Trudy’s daughter.”

She bought pansies? Sheesh! “Yes.”

His big hand encased hers. Warm. Slightly calloused. Nice. And he was still holding it. Like the other day.

“Nice to meet you, Becca.”

Finally, he broke their grasp.

“Officially.”

Tossing his gaze toward the picnic scene he added.

“Are you part of all his?”

He did remember her.

“No. I mean. Yes. Well, sort of.”

He laughed aloud. Nice, nice laugh. Almost made her smile. Hell, it did make her smile.

“My friend Nora,”

she pointed toward her.

“is part of the show. She’s the blonde over there by the table and the one being matchmaked.”

Matchmaked? Was that a word?

Sam followed her gaze. “Hm.”

He watched for a while as Nora listened to Patricia. While he did that, it gave Becca the perfect opportunity to study his profile. Chiseled features, high cheekbones, a slightly scruff dark beard. She bet he got a five o’clock shadow each day.

At some point in her musing, Sam had turned to study her face again. Their gazes hooked together and held.

“It’s nice to see you, again.”

She glanced at the ground.

“I... Yes. Good to see you, too.”

Again, their gazes connected. He continued.

“I spotted you as soon as I got out of my truck a little while ago. I couldn’t believe it was you. I’m glad to have another chance to speak to you.”

Becca bit her lip, and then said in a rush.

“I’m sorry I was so abrupt the other day. I’m just not used to men asking me out like that.”

“Hey. It’s not a regular thing for me, either, sweetheart. Kind of took me by surprise.”

In the worst way, Becca wanted to smile. Okay, so she did a little. “Really?”

“Yes.”

A pause lingered.

“When I saw you a few minutes ago, I couldn’t believe my luck. I was sort of hoping it was going to be you.”

“What?”

Sam tipped his head toward the crowd around the picnic table.

“I’m the date. The other one being matchmaked.”

“Ah.” Shit.

“Yep.”

He rubbed that scruffy beard. Had he said he wished it had been her?

“I’m sure you will like Nora.”

“I think you are more my type.”

Panic zinged through her.

“Oh, but Nora is smart and beautiful and...”

He interrupted with.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Becca North. You too are beautiful, and I bet quite smart.”

What?

A silly, saucy grin crossed his lips, and her mouth itched to echo it.

“Mr. Ackerman? Is that you?”

Sam glanced away to see who was approaching. Becca looked too. Patricia. Saved by the bell, or rather, the Plum.

“Becca!”

she started.

“thank goodness you found Mr. Ackerman.”

Patricia hooked her arm in Sam’s and tugged to lead him away.

“I have a few things to go over before the lunch and taping, and oh! You must meet Nora before we begin. Minor detail.”

She giggled and Sam looked over his shoulder back to Becca.

“Of course, you want to meet her ahead of time. It’s a date, right? I mean, we’ll pretend it’s a blind date and all but what kind of a show would it be if...”

Patricia’s voice faded as they strode away. The only good thing about watching them walk away was that Becca got another perfect view of Sam Ackerman’s firm and taut backside.

She did enjoy watching that man walk away.