The Billionaire's Matchmaker(28)

As she finished straining the noodles, her doorbell rang.

She kissed a finger which had gotten in the way of some of the steam and called, “Just a minute!” With a quick wipe of her hands on an available dishtowel, she raced to the front door. She looked through the peephole, and there stood the very man she’d been thinking about all afternoon.

She groaned, but she couldn’t very well pretend she wasn’t home. The lights were on. Plus, he had Charlie in his arms. She opened the door.

“What’s up?”

He scratched Charlie behind the ears. “I think your dog likes me.”

She frowned.

“He was on my front stoop when I got home.”

“Oh! Sorry. I’ve been cooking all afternoon by myself, and I didn’t even notice him leave.” Fear shot through her. Good Lord, what the devil would they tell Mr. Bonaparte, one of the richest men in the world, if they lost his dog?

Dell smiled, his pretty blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “And here I just thought you’d sent him over to do reconnaissance.”

Irritation warmed her blood. Was he always going to accuse her of trying to get him to her house? After the way he’d behaved the day before and especially after he’d kissed her at the fund raiser, he still thought she was attracted to him?

Okay. The second argument didn’t work because she’d kissed him back. But he’d started that kiss. Still, what difference did it make? She’d lived in Chandler’s Cove for years and had never known him beyond his name, but suddenly she was seeing him every day.

Maybe fate kept throwing them together for a reason…

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” The words were out of her mouth before the thought had fully formed. Fate or no fate, she didn’t want Dell O’Neil thinking she was an idiot. If it killed her, she would prove to him she was just as decent, as nice, as normal—if not more normal, given that he had a secret—as he was.

“I’ve made enough for an army.” She gave him a self-depreciating smile. “Because I love to cook. Made the sauce from scratch and the pasta.”

“You made pasta from scratch?”

She presented her hands, wiggled the fingers. “I’m multi-talented.”

He frowned. “I am hungry.”

“I made extra.” She paused then said, “I heard about you saving Mrs. Baker this morning.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“Some people might say that. But it still takes a selfless person to do the job you do. And even though I’m just a humble jewelry designer, I’m not so bad, either. We got off on the wrong foot.”

“And you think spaghetti can fix that?”

“Fettuccini with Alfredo sauce that will make you weep and thank your maker.”

“Really?” His voice had taken on a more accommodating tone. He set Charlie down and followed her into the kitchen.

She grabbed some plates from the cupboard. “We’ll just eat at the center island, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Shrugging out of his jacket, he sniffed the air. “Smells like heaven in here.”

They set the table companionably. He helped himself to a beer from her fridge. After she set his plate of Fettuccini Alfredo in front of him, he took a bite and groaned. “Wow.”

“See. Could a wicked, evil, secret-telling woman cook this well?”


He laughed. “Probably not.”

She dug into her pasta. “So tell me how a guy who loses all his money decides to become a small-town Sheriff?”

“It’s sort of a funny story…on me.”

“You’ve already got me sworn to secrecy.”

“When I graduated from college, my father said I had to do one of the four e’s … employment, education, enlist, or evacuate the family home.

She laughed. “Evacuate the family home?”

“My dad can get a bit theatrical.” He chuckled. “Anyway, being a smart ass and wanting to drive my dad crazy, I enlisted. After my dad exploded and I’d had my fun, I wanted to take it back, but the army wasn’t so accommodating, and they wouldn’t let me out of the commitment. They made me an MP and that got me through my time in Afghanistan okay, but it also taught me a lot. MP training was a lifesaver when I needed a new career. Now, I like the life I’ve built and don’t want to complicate it.” He caught her gaze. “Especially not with a relationship.”

There were so many questions she could have asked him—about his family, his ex—but since they were trying to get on a normal footing as neighbors, she ignored them in favor of a response that would make it clear she wasn’t a love-stuck idiot who intended to follow him around.

“Interesting. And fairly normal. Everybody’s life has something odd in it.”

“Oh, really? What’s your story?”

“Pretty much the same as yours. Crappy first marriage. And though we didn’t have a lot of property, Doug managed to get the condo. Still, my freedom was worth it.”

He laughed and clanked his beer glass against her wine glass. “To first marriages that teach big lessons.”

She raised her glass in toast. “Here, here.”

The whole conversation was fun until she caught his gaze to smile at him and their smiles faded simultaneously. She wasn’t exactly sure why his smile had faded but hers had disappeared because she realized why fate kept throwing them together. She liked him. They had enough in common that they understood each other. And unless she missed her guess, he now liked her, too.