Single dad matchmate, p.1
Single Dad Matchmate, page 1
Single Dad MatchMate
Jade Alters
Contents
1. Victoria
2. Luke
3. Victoria
4. Luke
5. Victoria
6. Luke
7. Victoria
8. Luke
9. Victoria
10. Luke
11. Victoria
12. Luke
13. Victoria
14. Luke
15. Victoria
16. Luke
17. Victoria
18. Luke
19. Victoria
20. Luke
21. Luke
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by Jade Alters
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Victoria
How many times would I tolerate a man answering his phone during a date? One? Two? How about six?
I swirled my glass before taking a sip. At least the merlot was good. The interruptions might have been excusable if my date was a surgeon. Or a therapist. Or even a professor, counseling students near finals.
But this man wasn’t any of those things. He was a financial advisor, perpetually on the hunt for new clients. As a business owner myself, I understood the urge. But this had become excessive.
Now off the phone, he grinned at me through a mouthful of kale salad. “I see one of my clients over there. I’m going to go say hello.”
I stabbed my fork into a piece of Tuscan-Style roasted asparagus. If I didn’t have my reputation to consider, I’d walk out now.
Unbelievable. My so-called date led his client back over to our table. “Victoria, I’d like you to meet the owner of—” I tuned him out as he droned on, but I managed to refrain from crossing my arms. I smiled in the right places and offered my hand.
This date was a dud. He was another dull, pale-faced, self-obsessed businessman wearing a tailored suit. If he could stare lovingly at his phone on a date, so could I.
I sent a quick text to the newest number I’d saved in my phone: I’m ready. I need your first available appointment. ASAP!
Located in Midtown Manhattan, the agency was not what I expected. The inside of the office looked like a residence. The owner came out to meet me immediately and pushed a mimosa into my hand.
She caught me staring at the couches and dining table. “We didn’t want Victory Matchmaking to feel like an office. We wanted it to feel like a home,” she said. For the $25,000 fee, I figured she was right.
She ushered me to a sofa. “Tell me about what you want. None of this will leave the room. I’ll make notes, but I’ll write them as my interpretations.”
The citrus was bitter on my tongue as I swallowed. “I don’t know how to say what I want without sounding like a judgmental harpy.”
She leaned in toward me. “You are here to get what you want.”
How shallow was I going to sound when I admitted the truth of what I was looking for? “I know it’s not PC, but I want an Alpha man. I don’t mean one that dominates in the boardroom. I mean one that can throw a punch and shoot a gun.”
She scribbled some notes. “I’m getting the picture. Tell me more.”
“I want someone taller than me. I want a man who can chop wood, and hammer a nail. I don’t want him to be a selfish jerk, but I want to be able to tell the difference between him and my friends.” I rubbed my hand over my face. “God, speaking of friends, they would be mortified to hear me saying these things.”
She leaned in even closer. “I’d bet some of them secretly want the same thing.”
“No.” I had watched them over the years. I wasn’t like them, not at all. “They want workaholic doctors, lawyers, and accountants. They want their husbands to pay for vacations, nannies, and private school.” I sighed and dropped my head back on the sofa. “I fund my own life. I don’t need a man to do it for me.” I straightened back up. This was no time to lounge around. “I want a partner that I feel passion for. You’d think I could find him myself in a place like New York City.”
“People hire you because you’re an expert in web design and media. Let me be the expert in this.” She gave me a firm tap on the knee. “I can find the right man for you,” she assured me.
I picked up my pen. “Show me where to sign,” I said. If she could find me the right match, this would be worth every penny. I was done wasting my time with losers.
Luke
The flames were out, but thick smoke billowed in front of me. I held on tight to the woman I carried over my shoulder. Just a few more steps, and we’d be outside. Ten steps later, I staggered into the fresh air, sagging with relief as the paramedics took her from me.
I groaned as I leaned my head against my SUV and took a deep breath. But just one, because I had to get my kids to a birthday party. Which was the very last thing I wanted to do after working for ten hours.
My real job was serving as the Sheriff of Pine River, but I also worked as a volunteer firefighter, along with a good portion of the rest of my family. Today an electrical fire had trapped two employees in a storage closet at the hardware store. They were safe, thank God, but it was close.
I thought about resigning at least twice a day. But the fire department needed me—most employees were replaceable, but a shifter firefighter wasn’t. As shifters, we could move faster and lift more than the average person. If I could respond to a call, it might save a human. A human who was my kids’ teacher, doctor, or friend. How could I say no to that?
After a short drive, I was finally home, or close to it. I stopped by my sister’s house to collect the kids. “Daddy!” my kids screeched as they piled on top of me. “It’s time for the party!” My daughter Beth yelled at the top of her lungs.
“They ate lunch,” my sister Jane said. “We had pork chops and mashed potatoes.”
I hugged her tightly. “Thank you. One day I’ll repay you for this.”
“Nah. I like it that you owe me.” She punched me in the arm. “You know we’re all in this together.”
That was one benefit of the bear clan. We all lived on the same street, and we all had each other’s backs, rain or shine, whether we enjoyed it or not.
And I hated to admit it, but I did need their help. My hours as sheriff were always uncertain. I’d officially retired from my first career as a soldier in special forces, made up only of shifters, but a few times a year the Army called me back to help my MASK.
I missed my MASK unit. But the travel was non-stop, and I had the kids now. The job came with some significant risks, and the kids were already down one parent—they didn’t need to lose the only one they had left because I couldn’t let go.
“Let’s go guys, we’ve got to hurry.” I grabbed a kid under each arm and hauled ass to the party, which was to celebrate my daughter’s friend turning seven. In the birthday kid’s backyard, every single thing was pirate-themed. The hostess was handing out eye patches for everyone, even the adults. It was a fucking madhouse.
Sure I had extra stamina as a shifter, but I was beat. I bowed out of socializing and slept in the car for two hours. After it was over, Beth bounced into the car. “Dad! Do you think we can have a mom?” she asked as she buckled her seat belt.
“Yeah!” Adam added as I helped him with his booster seat. “Moms make stuff like that. Tony said his mom’s making a monster truck themed party!”
What the hell? He was five, and he knew about party themes? I didn’t even remember being five.
Another unanticipated consequence of single-parenting—I sucked at crafts or whatever this would be classified as. I wasn’t sexist enough to think it automatically fell to the mom. But they did seem to be the ones that made the fun stuff happen. I’d managed exactly one party for the kids. We’d only invited family, but even with cousins, we’d had fifteen kids. I’d texted them to be at the local pool at 2 p.m. and I’d shown up with a cake. I felt like I did a damn good job.
“Guys, moms aren’t just for doing stuff that you want,” I said. I backed the car up and started the path back home. “Moms are just like dads. Their job is to love you and take care of you.”
“Yeah, like Aunt Jane!” My son chimed in. “Except Aunt Jane wrapped all of our presents to look like snowmen at Christmas.”
I stared at Adam’s hopeful face in the rearview mirror. On Christmas Eve, I had gotten off a double shift. I’d stuffed every gift inside bags. My mom and sisters would have been happy to take over and come wrap my presents, but I already depended on them so much. I wanted to be able to handle our family on my own, as much as I could.
“You guys really want a mom around? For real?” I thought kids didn’t want their parents to date? Maybe that would be true if they had a mom they saw half the time. Instead, thanks to the nutcase I’d mated with, they had no mother at all.
“Yes!” They shouted in unison.
“What if she makes you eat broccoli every day? What then?”
“You make us eat it, Daddy!” Adam said.
Not v
“She wouldn’t!” Beth pounded the back of my seat. “It’s not like Cinderella, Daddy! You would pick a nice lady!”
I didn’t do such a great job the first go around. I promised myself I wouldn’t bash my ex to the kids, no matter how tempting. When I was with my family or friends, all bets were off. If I had a few beers in close succession, I called her some pretty creative names.
I opened the door to the backseat to let the kids out. “She might! What if… she tickles you all day, like this?” I grabbed each kid and flipped them upside down. I was done discussing my love life with my kids.
By 9 p.m. the kids were asleep, and I was alone. No one to talk to, no one to watch TV with, and no one to sleep with. I didn’t miss my ex, not really. She sucked for leaving her kids—there was no way to sugarcoat what she’d done. But I did miss having another adult in the house.
Maybe dating wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
The next day my entire family got together to swim at the lake. I dumped a few dozen hot dogs onto the grill. “The kids want a mom,” I said to my mother.
“They’re right.” My mom tapped me on the chest. “Those cubs do need a mom.”
I looked over at my kids where they were digging in the sandy dirt with their cousins. “I thought I was doing fine.”
“Luke Thomas. You know that is not what I meant,” my mom scolded. “A grandmother and two aunts are not the same as a mother, no matter how invested they are.” My mom’s eyes widened. She clapped her hands together. “I know just the person.”
Oh good Lord. Why had I told my mother? The air was cool enough, but between the heat from the grill and my mother’s meddling, my temperature was about a thousand degrees. “Mom, please don’t set me up on any dates. I don’t want it to get awkward.” Like the time one of the preschool teachers was interested. Or the mom of one of Beth’s friends. Or one of the female firefighters.
My mom added a few more hot dogs to the grill. She never thought we had enough food. To her credit, feeding a sleuth of bear shifters was not an easy task.
“I’m not setting you up on a date,” she said, squeezing my arms. “There’s a professional matchmaker in Fayetteville. I just saw it on the news! And I know her.”
I rammed a fork through one of the hot dogs at the edge of the grill. “A professional matchmaker?” I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “What the hell—is there a degree for that now?”
“She has a degree in sociology and psychology, and a master’s in social work. She understands human behavior.”
A breeze drifted by, but it did nothing to help me cool my heated skin. “I’m not human.”
“Well any woman you meet most likely will be.”
“If you think I need therapy, just say so.” I wasn’t opposed to that. I’d gone after a few brutal missions when I was working with my MASK unit.
“Would you please listen? She’s not a therapist. She matches you with a compatible woman. It’s much more reliable than a blind date.”
I scooped all the hog dogs off the grill. I had to get away from my mom before she had a wedding planned for a non-existent wife.
“If you found someone, she could help with the kids,” my sister said, laying her chin on top of my shoulder.
I jumped into the air. “Where did you come from? Were you eavesdropping?” I whacked my sister with a spatula. “And that is not why I’d date.”
My sister stuck a piece of cheese in her mouth. “Just sayin’.”
It sounded like a fucking nightmare.
“Give it a try. What could it hurt?” Jane said.
It could hurt a whole lot.
I hadn’t exactly agreed to see the matchmaker. In fact, I gave my mother a very definite no.
But my mother, sister, and sister-in-law all showed up on Tuesday morning, beaming. They promised my kids a trip to the park, ice cream, and roller skating. So on my only day off, I drove to Fayetteville to pay someone to find me a date. Just how I wanted to spend my free time.
I did consider the fact that if I got remarried, it would probably make my family’s life easier. They’d feel less pressure to make sure the kids had a female presence. They tried to fill in for my ex—they showed up for class parties, fundraisers, and soccer practices. I was present as often as possible, but as sheriff, I was constantly getting called away.
How pathetic was it to have to pay for a date? This matchmaker would probably think I couldn't get one on my own, whereas the opposite was true. I knew it sounded arrogant, but quite a few women had pursued me since my ex bailed. This wasn’t my own opinion, but I’d had at least six women tell me I was a catch, simply because I wasn’t afraid of commitment, I was hard-working, and I liked kids.
I could not believe I was doing this.
Buck up. It’s for your kids. You walk into burning buildings. You’ve run covert operations in deadly locations. You can face a matchmaker.
The matchmaker already had the door open when I got out of my car. “You must be Luke!” Her smile was wide. “I was so excited to hear from your mother.”
Here goes nothing.
Victoria
“I have found the perfect man for you,” the matchmaker said as she peered at me over her glasses. “However, I don’t want you to immediately discount him because of his location.”
Another day, another mimosa at Victory Matchmaking. This one was sweeter rather than bitter. “Now I’m curious.”
“He’s in Arkansas,” she said, speaking quickly. “If you’ll give it a chance, then--”
I held up my hand. I didn’t need someone to convince me the south could be a decent place to live. “I’m from south Arkansas. My grandmother was in Fayetteville. I spent a lot of time there growing up.”
She adjusted her glasses and blinked at me a few times. “You’re from Arkansas? I had no idea.”
“No one does.” At least she was too professional to make the usual jokes about me having all my teeth and wearing shoes. And she didn’t comment on my lack of accent. I didn’t work to drop my southern twang because I was ashamed. I dropped it because I wanted clients to focus on my work, and not the way I talked.
She handed over a sealed folder. “His name is Luke. He’s thirty-four. He’s a former military officer. He’s currently the elected sheriff in Pine River, he’s a volunteer firefighter, and he has two children, ages five and six. His ex-wife has no contact. He does have a lot of extended family living in the area, and he owns his home.”
It sounded like she’d made this guy up for me. I was a little nervous about the kids, but not opposed. “When do I meet him?”
“As soon as you’re ready. The agency will set up a plane ticket and hotel for you.” She kept talking, explaining the process for the first date, but I couldn’t focus. My mind skipped ahead. I didn’t want to fly down to Arkansas, spend the weekend with a guy, and then come back to the city. I wanted a change in my life.
A very big change. “You know what? Go ahead and make the arrangements. But don’t get me a return ticket. This is going to sound crazy, but I’m going to go stay in Arkansas for a while. I could use a break from the city. I’m going to give this a shot.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Ah. Okay. I didn’t expect that. But we will certainly do whatever we can to accommodate you.”
Thank goodness this was confidential. I would not be telling anyone else I was moving, however temporarily, to another state to go on a date with a man I’d never met.
Because that was one-hundred percent crazy.
If any friend of mine told me she was moving for a blind date, I’d stage an intervention. I’d call her family, her friends, her co-workers—anyone I could think of to make her stop.
