An Extraordinary Match (The Match Series Book 3) (22 page)

Kalie was likely a perfectly wonderful person. She was certainly pretty enough, with long, thick raven hair, dark blue eyes and about the most dazzling smile Daisy had ever seen. It was Hammond who worried her. He could be so closed-minded. And once that mind of his was made up, there was no changing it. A woman would have one chance with him, and then it would all be over.

Lizbet sat up straight, swinging her legs over the side of the lounger and tucking her feet into her pink flip-flops. “Maybe we could maroon them together, somewhere that he couldn’t get away.”

“Or we could get Kalie a job at Vashon Holdings,” said Hannah. “That way he’d see her over and over again, maybe get past the first impression.”

“She’s a machinist,” said JW. “Vashon Holdings manages corporate real estate. I’m not seeing an obvious job opportunity.”

“They both live in Boston,” said Sam. “Getting them together should be the easy part this time.”

“She seems to wear nothing but blue jeans and T-shirts,” said Daisy. “We’ll have to whack my grandson over the head to get him to take a second look.”

“That’s JW’s department,” Sam said with a smirk.

Lizbet grinned at Sam. “You’re the brains, and he’s the brawn?”

“Something like that,” said Sam.

“What about the
My Fair Lady
approach?” asked Hannah.

Four gazes swung her way.

“The movie. We give Kalie a makeover.”

Lizbet was the first to speak up. “Could we do that without her catching on?”

“Oh, I know,” said Hannah in an excited voice, obviously warming to her own idea. “Maybe we tell her she’s won a contest of some kind. We send her to a day at the spa for a facial, a haircut, some makeup. And then we send her directly to a party or some other fancy event where Hammond will be, and voilà!” She snapped her fingers.

“I love it when we go covert,” said Lizbet.

“But she’ll go back to her regular self,” said Daisy. “We need something that’ll last longer than one party.”

“What we need is a Henry Higgins,” said Lizbet.

“We could hire one,” said Sam.

“Or blackmail one,” said Daisy, the suggestion putting an idea into her head.

“We have plenty of money in the kitty,” said JW. “And I thought we agreed not to break the law anymore.”

“My grandson,” said Daisy, her excitement level rising. “Hammond’s brother Hunter could be our Mr. Higgins. He owes me. He owes me big-time. And he lives right there in Boston.”

“Would it be safe to bring him in on the scheme?” asked Sam.

“I kept dozens of secrets for him,” said Daisy. “Especially his high school senior year.”

“Do tell,” said Lizbet with a lift of her brows.

Daisy’s grandson Hunter was a rascal, there was no getting around it.

“He once stole my car,” said Daisy. “He hid beer in the pool house. And he spent what I understand was a memorable spring break in Miami and told his parents he was staying with me. I never ratted him out.”

“
Daisy
,” Lizbet chortled. “You surprise me. You are a very cool grandmother.”

Daisy shrugged. “It wasn’t like I could stop him, and it kept the lines of communication open. He never drank and drove, and I gave him plenty of advice on avoiding hard drugs and treating women with respect.”

“And now it’s payback time,” said Lizbet.

“He could be our ace in the hole,” said Hannah.

“I’m sold,” said Sam.

“Daisy,” JW stated with authority, “you’ll need to take a trip to Boston.”

*

Kalie Gray had
dust in her hair, bright sunshine in her eyes and grit under her fingernails. Saturday afternoon in the Granite Valley, ninety minutes outside Boston, and the sound of hopped-up engines echoed in the distance as the leading, four-wheel-drive racing vehicles zoomed toward the start-finish line and the pit area, completing their latest twenty-mile, off-road lap.

Her best friend, Liza Merriweather, was an automotive technician and the brains behind the engine for Jarrett’s Jump, the racer driven by Liza’s boyfriend. Jarrett and his co-driver, Ritchie, had done the bodywork from the frame up.

By comparison, Kalie’s role on the race team was minor. She machined specialized parts for the engine and chassis. But she loved being part of the pit crew on race day. The adrenaline in the air was electric.

They were coming up on the final lap. Jarrett’s Jump had been leading since the mid-point in the race. Liza was on the radio with Ritchie, leaning close to the speaker to hear his transmission. “He says it’s pulling to the right,” she yelled to the pit crew. “And they’re losing power. They have to come in for a stop. Buster, check the tire pressure. Joe, splash of fuel.”

Joe nodded and went for the gas can.

“I’ll check the front end,” said Liza. “Kalie, windshield and water.”

“I’m on it.” Kalie fished two chilled water bottles from the cooler then stood in position behind a row of boulders that separated the pit from the racecourse. She had clean rags dangling from the back pocket of her blue jeans and a bottle of window cleaner in the opposite hand.

The red mud, found down near the river, was the racecourse’s unique attraction. It wreaked havoc with the racers’ traction. On low-lying sections of the course, it thickened the puddles that then rolled up in waves to cover every inch of the vehicle. The sticky mud added a level of challenge and excitement to any event.

Jarrett skidded the racer, sliding on all four wheels to a halt in the pit. Ritchie pulled down the passenger window net, and Kalie handed in the water.

Liza dropped onto her back and slid under the front end, while Kalie hauled herself up on the nearest boulder and sprayed the passenger-side windshield with cleaner, rubbing away the grime. Then she leaned across the hood to reach the driver’s side, coating her jeans and T-shirt in a new layer of mud.

She tossed a soiled rag to the ground and started fresh.

The race car named Tighty White barreled past out on the course, and Ritchie’s lips formed a terse swearword as he banged the heel of his hand against the dashboard, obviously frustrated by their delay. Kalie scrubbed as fast as she could then slid backward to the boulder divide. Another vehicle whizzed past. The black-and-orange stripe pattern told Kalie it was Tiger. Jarrett’s Jump had dropped to third place.

Liza jumped to her feet, shouting over the noise of the engine. “There’s a chunk of wood trapped in the wheel well.
Everybody clear
.”

Kalie hopped down on the pit side. Buster and Joe cut past the boulder barrier.

Liza held both of her arms in the air to signal to Jarrett. “Back it up,” she shouted.

Jarrett threw the racer in reverse, jerking back about ten feet. The piece of wood made a huge clang against the body as it broke free.

Liza gave Jarrett a thumbs-up. Then she looked to each of the pit crew. All signaled they were done. Liza jumped aside and waved the racer forward.

“Go, go,
go
!” she cried.

It zoomed off in a cloud of dust, and the noise level dropped away.

“Two spots to make up,” said Buster, as they all watched Jarrett’s Jump fly back onto the racecourse.

“Could have been a whole lot worse,” said Liza. “I thought it might be a bent differential.”

Joe began gathering up the hand tools that had become scattered around the pit during the course of the day, cleaning dirt from them before placing them in the red toolbox. Buster rolled the used tires onto the trailer.

Liza dropped into a lawn chair next to the radio, and Kalie took the chair beside her. The cooler was between them, and Kalie helped herself to a cola. It was ice cold and dripping wet. She popped the lid on the can and shook the drops of water from her hand.

“Think he can do it?” she asked.

“It’ll be tough,” said Liza. “Tighty White has more horsepower, and the Tiger team always goes nuts on the last lap. I swear those guys have a death wish.”

Kalie grinned. “This is the part he loves.”

“He does.” Liza smiled in return. “That’s why he’s the perfect guy for me.”

“I think it’s the other way around.”

“How?”

“You’re the perfect girl for him.”

Liza’s grin widened. “You should tell him that. He’d appreciate hearing it.”

“It’s not every girlfriend who can build a guy a stroker engine.”

Liza swung open the cooler lid and took a cola for herself. “It’s not every best friend who can machine connecting rods for the stroker engine.”

“We’re endlessly versatile,” said Kalie.

“Not to mention decorative.”

Kalie glanced down at her muddy jeans and scuffed, steel-toed boots. “Can a beauty pageant be far in my future?”

“Miss Massachusetts, for sure.”

The radio crackled, and they both went silent.

“Woo hoo!” Ritchie yelled into the microphone, the engine roaring in the background. “Passed Tiger.”

“Yes,” cried Buster from on top of the flat deck trailer.

Liza held up her hand, and Kalie slapped her a high five.

Another two racers zoomed past out on the course, jockeying with each other for position, their dust plumes dissipating across the pit area.

“I should show you something,” said Liza, reaching behind her chair and digging into a bag.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to wear it while I was working. And, well… I don’t know, it’s kinda…”

“Kinda what?”

Liza produced a black, square object.

At first, Kalie thought it was a new part for the racer.

“Kind of archaic,” Liza finished.

As Liza popped the object open, Kalie realized it was a leather box, a jewelry box. It held a diamond ring.

Kalie plunked her soda on top of the cooler lid. “Are you kidding me? You’re
engaged
?”

Liza gave a helpless shrug. “He got down on one knee and everything.” She lowered her voice. “It was really weird.”

Kalie jumped to her feet and gave Liza a hug. “That’s not weird. That’s fantastic.”

“I’m not a very romantic person.”

“You’re in love with Jarrett. That’s all that counts.”

“I don’t see two kids, a white picket fence and a fluffy dog in my future.”

Kalie laughed as she sat back down. She’d known both Liza and Jarrett since they were high school freshmen. They were going to make their own unique marriage, and it would defy convention.

“I doubt he sees that either,” she said.

The radio crackled again. “Passed Tighty White! Seven minutes out!”

Liza keyed the mike. “Bring it home, babe!”

“We’ll
party
tonight,” Joe shouted.

And they would.

Once the trophy presentation was made, the race organizers would crank up the barbecues, and music would blare under the big, open-sided tent at the end of the pit road. There’d be dancing and celebratory drinks into the night.

Liza and Jarrett had a ten-year-old motor home they brought to the races. It was utilitarian and worn but in great mechanical shape. It towed the racer and gave the three of them a place to sleep after the windup parties.

“You’re the one who’s got it right,” said Liza.

“Got what right?” Kalie asked.

“Independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else. You can focus on your career, recreation, travel. I can’t not love Jarrett, so everything I do has to take him into account.”

“I do have my freedom,” Kalie agreed, though it wasn’t quite as exciting as Liza made it sound.

Kalie loved her career as a machinist. Micro Machining Incorporated had contracts statewide with colleges and research institutes. The leading-edge robotic parts she created for students and researchers were both challenging and satisfying. And it was true that she could travel whenever and wherever she wanted. Nobody else’s opinion counted.

She definitely wasn’t out there looking for a relationship. But Liza and Jarrett had been together since high school, and Kalie couldn’t help but wonder if her friend forgot that being perpetually single came with its own set of challenges.

Her weekends were her own. But then so were her nights. And she’d been out of the habit of dating for quite some time. She’d met some great guys at technical school. But she was a woman in what was still predominantly a man’s profession. Dating her classmates had seemed like a colossally bad idea.

And so she was single.

“I want you to be my bridesmaid,” said Liza. “Don’t worry,” she hastily added. “I won’t make you wear some glittery dress or anything. We’re not having a formal wedding. I’m not sure what we’ll do. Maybe have the ceremony in a park or something.”

“Will you quit apologizing for getting married? I’d love to be your bridesmaid. I don’t hate fancy dresses. I just don’t own any of them.”

“You’d love to?” Liza looked genuinely relieved.

“I’d love to,” Kalie assured her.

“There they come!” called Buster.

Both women stood as Jarrett’s Jump barreled toward the finish line. It came across with all four wheels in the air. Tighty White was hot on its heels, maybe twenty yards back.

Liza whooped and punched a fist in the air.

Kalie clapped her hands. It was going to be a great party. The ratio of men to women would be about six to one, so plenty of partners. She didn’t have to meet Mr. Right tonight in order to have fun dancing.