The Matchmakers (11 page)

 
`It makes me feel like I have to
help«like I’ve got to butt in.´ `Welcome to my life.´ `Well, I don’t want your
life. I want mine. I like not feeling obligated to make people feel better. I’m
not good at it.Ćallie sighed. She lifted her hands, then dropped them
again before replying. `Don’t worry, Nick. Either way, it won’t last forever.Ás
soon as they reached Nick’s apartment, Callie rushed past him into the bathroom
and shut the door. She filled the sink with ice-cold water, then sat on the
closed lid of the toilet and stared at her hands. Each palm sported a raw
patch, the broken skin threaded through with welled blood. Callie stared at the
red streaks, willing them to disappear. The harder she willed, the redder they
seemed to become. This could not be. Fae did not bleed. They never got hurt the
vigilant ones, at least. Immortal, but not invincible she’d learned that lesson
centuries ago. Only the careless suffered mortal wounds. How, then, had she
allowed Skip to push her down, to hurt her and frighten her? The faintest
outline of his fingers marred the skin of her wrist, and when she rubbed the
spot, it stung. Her heart stuttered, and her wings ached for freedom. Wings!
How could she forget? She pulled off her shirt, and for the first time since
arriving in Nick’s world, unfolded her wings. In the bathroom mirror, they
appeared as gossamer triangles of light dancing behind her. Their power infused
her with new strength, and in their reflected glow, the damage to her hands,
her wrist, and her ankle came undone. When all the pain was gone, she splashed
water on her face and sighed. Her injuries were her own fault more than Skip’s.
She should have been more careful. Her relief at seeing Nick, her eagerness to
know he hadn’t seduced Diane, had made her careless. She’d acted like a jealous
human, and she’d paid the price. A soft knock on the door startled her, and
guiltily she tucked her wings away. Rather than put her t-shirt back on, she
popped herself into a set of pink satin pajamas before opening the door a
crack. Nick stood in the hallway looking worried. `You all right?´ `I’m fine.´ `I
know it’s late, but are you hungry? There’s all that food in the kitchen ´ `No,
thank you. I’d just like to go to sleep for a while.´ He looked disappointed. `That’s
probably a good idea.´ She joined him in the narrow hallway, faking a yawn. `Good
night, Nick.´ He backed up a step, jammed his hands in his back pockets and
followed her to the living room. There, he helped her unfold the Mets blanket.
Once she’d settled on the couch, he made a sweet, but clumsy attempt to tuck
her in. `Are you sure you’re okay? Will you be all right out here?Śhe
showed him her hands. `All better. I promise I’ll be fine.Śhe snuggled
under the blanket and closed her eyes. While the yawn had been contrived, the
feeling of fatigue that swept over her was very real. She’d never been so happy
to lie down and stretch her legs. After a moment, Nick shut off the light and
left the room. Callie lay perfectly still, listening to the faint sounds of him
getting ready for bed. In the silence that followed, she stared at the ceiling,
watching the flicker of light and shadow from the front window. Centuries had
passed since Callie had played at being human. All young Fae went through a
phase those decades of discontent when they believed the mortal life offered
more meaning than the charmed existence of their race. Some even made the
permanent transition to mortality, always with Freya’s reluctant blessing.
Fortunately, most outgrew the childish fancy and learned to embrace the gift of
immortality. Callie forced herself to remember now that no matter how many
comfortable moments she spent in the harsh, cold human realm, she did not
belong here. She could not afford to forget again that her only objective was
to complete Freya’s punishment and find her way back home.

Chapter Fourteen

 
         
`I
worked it out, and I know exactly what we’re going to do,Ćallie said when
Nick appeared in the kitchen doorway Sunday morning. She handed him a plate of
waffles and a glass of juice while he blinked away the fog of sleep. `Do about
what?´ He took a deep, appreciative whiff of the food on his plate and grinned
as he sat. `I could get used to this.´ He hoped days of hard work at the
construction site would help him burn off the extra calories. It had been more
than a decade since he’d begun each morning with a home-cooked meal, and he
hated to admit that he missed it. Callie seemed to ignore his comment. She sat
across from him and watched while he filled each waffle square with a drop of
warm maple syrup. He laughed at her curious gaze. `I used to do this when I was
a kid. Had to have syrup in every hole. It drove my mother crazy.Á pang of
regret settled in his gut at the thought, and his smile faded. Too many years
had passed since he’d recalled his mother’s perpetually worried face, her soft
voice and quiet concern. He’d long ago trained himself not to wonder if she
missed him, too. `Anyway, my plan.Ćallie plowed on, dissolving the awkward
memory before Nick became mired in it. `I’ve been thinking myself and ´ She cut
him off. `Personal ads.´ `What?´ `You said Farley wanted to write a personal
ad.´ `Yeah, but didn’t you say that would take too long?´ `The traditional way,
yes. But I’m thinking if we throw everything together in one big pot and stir
it up, we can move things along a little faster.´ `I’m not following.´ Nick
sipped his juice, then looked around the kitchen. He’d need some caffeine if he
hoped to keep up with her. `Coffee’s almost ready. Try to focus, Nick.´ Her
scolding tone caught him by surprise. She was all business this morning and
apparently annoyed by his momentary distraction. `Can you actually read my
mind?´ he asked after a bite of waffle. `Sometimes. Here’s my plan ´ `Right.´ `Farley
wants to bring more people into the bar. The best nights, according to Hayden,
are when something is going on like Catfish’s dance lessons. So what about a
singles night where everyone writes a short personal ad? Someone could read the
ads, and people could choose their favorite and meet that person. We could pair
them up for dance lessons, or maybe the best ad could win a prize. If the
evening had a theme, like the 1950s or maybe a costume ball for Halloween, that
would draw people in who don’t normally come to the bar. What do you think?´ Nick
chewed his waffle and nodded. `I think Farley will love it. But what about
Diane? She really loves him.´ The admission made Nick uncomfortable. It
reminded him that he now knew far more about Diane’s personal life than he’d
ever wanted to. `It’s perfect. Diane can write an ad, and Farley will choose
her. If she’s wearing a costume, he won’t know it’s her until he picks her.´ `And
what if he doesn’t?Óne of Callie’s perfect plans had already failed quite
miserably. So far, their matchmaking record was batting a thousand.

           
Callie thought for a
moment. `We can help her write it so it matches just what he’s looking for. He’ll
have to pick her because no one else will even come close.´ `He’ll have to
agree to the idea first.´ `You just said he’ll love it. He’ll make a bucket of
money on drinks and cover charges. It’ll be fun and it will accomplish our
objective.´ Nick shrugged and wolfed down the last bite of his breakfast. `I
hate to admit it, but it sounds pretty good to me. What’s my part in all of
it?´ `Right now, just back me up. Tell Farley you think it’s a great idea.
Maybe you can mention it at work and get people interested, and later on you
can help people write their personal ads. We can make up fliers so everyone can
have their ads ready when they show up.´ `I’ve never written a personal ad.´ `Well,
you’ll learn. It’s all about using the right abbreviations and making yourself
sound fascinating. We’ll practice later. Right now, I’ve got to go ´ `Don’t.´ Nick
grabbed her wrist lightning fast. He didn’t want her to leave today. When he
realized he’d caught the spot Skip had wrenched last night, he felt like a
barbarian. He let go and rubbed her skin gently. `I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
hurt you. But don’t disappear, okay? Where do you have to go in such a
hurry?Śhe scanned the room as if looking for an excuse to beg off. `I have
to«go. I need to ´ `Can it wait? It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we do something,
like a ride upstate to see the leaves? Even matchmakers get a day off, don’t
they?Ćallie studied him for a moment. He had no intention of letting her
off the hook, and he kept his hopeful smile in place until she relented. `All
right. Let me get changed, and we’ll go for a ride.´ Nick stole glances at his
passenger while he followed the winding mountain roads toward the state forest.
The views from the Appalachian foothills were spectacular this time of year,
and he’d been itching to get out in the cool autumn air and fill his lungs with
freedom. Unfortunately, the view in the car was equally distracting. Callie had
traded her pink satin pajamas for faded jeans and hiking boots. Under a
matching denim jacket, she wore a fluffy sweater the color of caramel. It
looked soft as a kitten, and Nick’s fingers ached to touch it. He’d asked
himself over and over why he wanted to do this why he wanted to be with her
today. The easy answer was, why not? She was beautiful, vivacious and when she
wasn’t driving him crazy, she left him breathless. Loony or not, she was nice
to look at and maybe, if he could figure out how to draw her out, he’d learn a
little more about her. He needed a better explanation as to why she seemed more
and more like a magical creature and less and less like an escaped mental
patient. `Oh look! Pumpkins!´ Nick smiled at her delighted cry. Mounds of
brilliant orange pumpkins, some plain and others painted with goofy neon faces,
spilled over wooden tables and out of huge crates at a roadside stand. A rocky gravel
lot served as a parking area, and Nick pulled in between another pickup and an
SUV. `They’ve got cider. I haven’t had cider in years,´ he said as he rounded
the back of the truck and helped Callie out. She breezed past him and
immediately wrapped her arms around a twenty-pound pumpkin, hugging it like a
long lost friend. `Look at this one! He’s beautiful.´ `It looks like all the
other ones, only bigger.´ `It’s perfect for a centerpiece for the bar.´ `Oh.
Can’t Farley get his own pumpkins? He hasn’t even agreed to have the party
yet.´ Her face fell, and once again, Nick felt like a monster. Why did her
smile suddenly mean so much to him? He thumped the pumpkin’s unblemished hide
and reached for his wallet. Callie rewarded him with a triumphant grin as she
hauled the huge gourd off its table. Nick pulled out his wallet and paid for
the pumpkin and two cups of fresh cider. He leaned against the truck, grinning
into his cup while Callie hoisted her prize into the back of the flat bed. She
glared at him when he handed her the cider. `You could have helped.´ He shook
his head. `You could’ve popped that thing back to the apartment or right to the
bar.´ `Not in front of everybody,śhe whispered between sips of cider. Nick
shrugged. `You could’ve made it weigh less.Śhe opened her mouth to
protest, but no words came out. Her expression told him he’d pay for his cheeky
comments later, and he relished the challenge. They finished their cider in
silence and climbed back in the truck. Callie immediately twisted around in her
seat to check on their new passenger. `Will he be all right back there?´ `He?´ `It’s
a male pumpkin.´ `Of course. Pumpkins have gender?´ `Everything has an essence
that defines its sex.´ Nick struggled not to laugh. Her serious expression
forbade it. `I see. It’ll
 
he’ll
be fine. Are you sure you don’t
want to buy him a lady friend before we go?´ `I’m sure.´ Nick just shook his
head. Faerie logic would be the death of him yet. The morning’s destination was
a scenic overlook abutted by a crumbling, moss-covered stone wall. The view
rivaled anything visible in the Fae realm and made Callie homesick. She
shivered in the autumn breeze. Nick put his own jacket around her shoulders,
and her heart thumped wildly. `It’s colder than I expected up here.´ He stood
close, and Callie leaned into his warmth, wishing for the endless summer of her
world. `There’s the road back to Bayerville. If you look past that farm and
along the tree line, you can see the hiking trail that leads to the skating
pond.Ćallie followed Nick’s tour of the fiery landscape lit with brilliant
gold and orange foliage. Country traffic meandered along thin ribbons of road
that wound through the hills. Here and there, the familiar shapes of grazing
horses and cows dotted the hillsides, and not a single cloud interrupted the
endless blue of the October sky. `It’s beautiful,śhe whispered, fighting
to keep her voice light. `It reminds me of home.´ `What’s your world like? Do
the seasons change?´ `Not like they do here. We have a time when the leaves
change color and a time when the flowers bloom, but it never becomes unbearably
hot or cold. We don’t get rain«unless we want to create some. It never gets dark.´
Nick surveyed the land spread out before them. `Rain isn’t so bad. Sometimes it
can be«sort of comforting.´ `You love it here, don’t you?´ Nick seemed
reluctant to answer, but Callie felt his thoughts. He wanted this to be his
home, but he didn’t want to need it so badly. `It’s nice here. It’s nice in a
lot of places I’ve been.´ `You love open space. You hated the time you spent in
the cities, didn’t you?´ He nodded, snaking his arm around Callie’s waist,
making her stomach flutter. `I hate smog. Traffic. Subways.´ `I bet you love
snow, don’t you?´ He grinned. `You say that like it’s a bad thing.´ `Snow is
nice. It’s a little too cold for me. What else do you love?´ `I love sleeping
in hammocks and cold lemonade and«´ `What else?´ His eyes narrowed on her, and
she sensed his discontent. `I can see right through you, Tinkerbell. This is some
kind of lesson, isn’t it?´ Callie feigned innocence. `I just want to know more
about you.´ `I hate mind games and psychobabble.Ćallie pulled away from
him, though she was reluctant to leave the safe circle of his arms. `It’s not a
game, Nick. When love is gone it’s all gone. You’ll lose it all.´ `I said I’d
help you with this mission of yours ´ `It’s for both of us, Nick. Not just me.
I want you to understand that.´ `I’m trying.´ He stepped forward and tilted her
chin up with his fingers. `Tell me what you love.´ His lips hovered close to
hers, and Callie’s breath caught. She could kiss him now and make him feel something
he wouldn’t want to lose. But that wasn’t her mission. She moved back just
enough to break the hypnotic pull between them. `I love helping people fall in
love. And I don’t want to lose that.´ The rest of the day passed in a blur of
crimson leaves and blue sky. They drove through the forest and back and had
dinner in a small café that sold hand-churned ice cream and dusty antiques. Nick
stayed close to Callie, aware of the glances of other men and feeling
proprietary. By the time they returned home, the buzz of arousal had replaced
the light mood of their afternoon. He followed her up the stairs and hesitated
before unlocking the door. `Did you have a good time today?´ `I did. Maybe we
can do this again sometime before«´ `Before what?´ `Before I go.´ `We don’t
have to think about you going right now, do we?´ `No.´ He centered his gaze on
her lips, pink and moist, still sweet from the peach ice cream he’d bought for her.
He wanted a taste, and the sleepy-sultry look in her green eyes told him she
did, too. He leaned in, his fingers creeping up under her jacket. A second
later his lips nearly collided with the doorframe, and his hands closed on
empty air. He caught himself before he stumbled, face first, through the door
as she opened it from the inside. `Hi, Nick.´ `What was that about?´ He leaned
one arm above her head on the doorframe. `I almost kissed a brick.´ `I’m sorry
about that, but we’re not here to fool around.´ `I wasn’t fooling.´ `Nick.Śhe
put a soft finger across his lips and leaned close. The faint smell of roses
teased him. `No distractions.Śhe turned and walked into the apartment,
disappearing into the kitchen. Nick watched her go. He’d been shot down before,
not often, of course, but there were certain women on which the Garrett charm
just didn’t work. Somehow, his borrowed intuition told him Calliope was not one
of them. He’d seen desire in her eyes, felt it each time their fingers touched.
Something held her back, though, and he vowed to figure out what it was. He
needed to uncover all her secrets, and he wasn’t going to let her disappear
without knowing exactly what she was all about.