The waves are calm now, and the ocean water laps gently against the shore, leaving wet patches in the sand. No sand dollars to be found this morning.
I should remove my shoes and let my toes sink into the moist sand. But I’m intent on getting to the lighthouse and back, so I keep a fast pace as I stride down the beach. Hugo’s right, I need to do this walk with nature every morning. It’s a balm to my soul.
Further down the beach, a shiny green object catches my eye. I kneel and pull a bottle from the sand. It’s dirty, but I rub the sand off with my hand because I don’t want to not even look in it after teasing Luna the way I did. Once the grime is scrubbed away, I see a paper rolled up inside.
I blink.Message in a bottle?Surely this isn’t the same bottle that Luna found because I know she threw hers away. This feels a bit like serendipity, as if Luna’s bottle somehow escaped from the trash and made its way to me. I snort and shove that crazy pants idea away.
Unlike in a movie, retrieving the paper from inside the bottle is not an easy task. I twist and twist until the cork comes loose. Then, after numerous tries, my fat fingers eventually grip the corner of the paper and slide it out through the narrow opening. The message is handwritten in blue ink and has faded badly, but I can still make it out.
What does this mean?A bewildered groan slips from my lips as I re-read themessage over and over. Is this some kind of divine intervention? Is the universe trying to tell me something?
The message is directed at my love life, but I could interpret it in a variety of ways. It could apply to Luna and me just as well as applying to me and the third match date I asked Luna to schedule. Frustrated and confused, I tuck the paper back inside and replace the cork. With no trash receptacle in sight, I toss the bottle into the ocean, then experience a twinge of guilt over littering. Luna would scold me about this.
As the message floats out to sea, I shout, “Go meddle in someone else’s love life!” With that, I turn on my heel and head back to the bungalow, not even caring that I never made it to the lighthouse.
Luna schedulesa third match date for me, as promised. Margorie McCoy and I are dining at The Cozy Pelican tomorrow evening. I simply couldn’t bear to go to The Golden Anchor again. Oddly enough, my date is also from the Jacksonville area, giving me encouragement that a relationship with her will work out. If I hit it off at all with this woman, I’ll force myself to romance her until she falls for me, ask her to marry me, and put an end to Grandad’s ultimatum once and for all. I’ll ignore that silly message in the bottle.
With the deadline for the contracts for Hugo’s land due today, I shove my love life to the back of my mind and focus on why I’m here. It’s time to buckle down and get Hugo the best offer I can.
CHAPTER 12
LUNA
Why did I kiss him? Now there’s no going back.
I toss and turn all night, haunted by that incredible kiss. Plus the hundred reasons why I can’t fall for Cade—the biggest ones being he’s my client and he doesn’t live in Seabreeze Harbor. Deciding to put our relationship back on professional grounds, I text him that I won’t be joining him for a beach walk this morning. Or any other morning for that matter. My heart drops when I read his abrupt reply asking me to schedule his third match date. I shouldn’t be disappointed, but I am.
Scanning the matchmaker’s network, a name stands out on Cade’s match list. Bridgette Andrews is not one of my favorite matchmakers. She has an elitist attitude and in the past has declined to match some of her clients with mine. When one of her client’s names pops up in Cade’s list, I hesitate for several long, excruciating moments while an inner battle rages inside me. But my job is to find Cade a match, so I set my feelings aside and email Bridgette. A few minutes later, she agrees to approach her client about a dinner date with Cade. Bridgette couldn’t ignore his professional reputation and good looks, despite having to work with me.
Margorie McCoy sounds like a saint. She heads up her father’s philanthropic endeavors via a family trust that donates to multiple charities every year. Winning a charitable grant from The McCoy Foundation is a major coup, and Margorie is involved in reviewing every application.
Several articles describe her as sweet, compassionate, and caring. She’s only a 48 percent match with Cade, but I’ve been successful in matching couples with an even lower match score—Anders and Natasha being a prime example.
After exchanging a couple emails with Bridgette, the dinner date is scheduled for tomorrow evening. Considering Margorie’s sweet nature and her social media profile photo (yes, I peeked), Cade is going to fall head over heels for this woman. Can I handle watching him fall in love with someone else?
Needing some sugar and caffeine, I wander into Zoe’s bakery a few minutes after opening. My shop isn’t open for an hour, so I have time to commiserate with my friend over how things have turned out between Cade and me.
“I heard you had pizza with Cade last evening,” Zoe says with a saucy grin the minute I enter the bakery. “Tell me all about it!”
I frown. Leave it to Natasha to spread the word about my date with Cade. Harmony will be in my store asking for details the minute I open.
Zoe pours two mugs of her special blend, loads up a plate with pastries, and leads us to a table in the corner. “We can talk until customers start arriving.”
We sip the coffee and nibble on the delicious cream-filled Long Johns, but within a few minutes Zoe can’t stand the silence any further. “Come on,” she says wiggling her fingers. “Spill!”
Expelling a frustrated sigh, I say, “We ate pizza, we walked on the pier, then we kissed.”
“What!” my friend sputters.
“That was highly unprofessional on my part, and I told him that,” I say glumly.
She frowns. “Luna, you’re his matchmaker for Pete’s sake. Not his boss. Tear up his matchmaking contract and move on.”
Blinking back tears, I say, “It will never work between us. He knows it and I know it. There are just too many hurdles to overcome.” I take another big bite of my Long John and chew angrily, taking out my frustration on the pastry.
“I disagree. You’re afraid to try to make it work. It’s easier to hide out in your shop than put your heart on the line.”
I pause mid-chew. She has a point, but my true fears slide out before I can stop them. “He’s a big-city guy who wants a partner as career-oriented as he is. I’m just an ordinary gal running a quirky shop in a small town.” My eyes lock with hers. “Isn’t it inevitable that he’ll leave and break my heart?”