Matchmaker: Santa Clarita Love Stories, #2

By Evangeline Kelly

A Contemporary Christian Romance

She only wanted to survive her coffee date . . .

Ellie Parker had a date set up through an online Christian dating site. Shouldn’t be too bad, right? Except Ellie believed she was a walking disaster. After twenty-three set-ups, she’d never been asked out a second time. Meeting the new guy for coffee might be promising—if only she could pronounce his name right. Then enters Noah Donovan-- devastatingly handsome and completely unattainable. Too bad he wasn’t her date.

When Ellie spills coffee all over Noah’s shirt, she’s mortified to say the least. The guy she was supposed to meet hadn’t even arrived yet, and she’d already created havoc.

Noah had a reputation for being a matchmaker, even though his last relationship was a complete failure. He couldn’t take his eyes off the frantic redhead wearing the ugliest gold shawl he’d ever seen. Not only did she fumble her date, she practically ran the guy off. That’s when Noah stepped in and offered his services as a dating coach.

But what happens when the coach falls for the student? Will he be able to risk love again? And what if the student has insecurities that threaten a wall between them?

Can Noah convince Ellie that love is worth fighting for?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evangeline Kelly
• Release date: May 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386941415

Book preview

Chapter 1

Noah

The girl with the long red hair and obnoxious flower print bag caught my eye. Not that I normally noticed fashion or women’s purses – ever. But my eyes couldn’t look away from the bright red, orange, and purple flowers.

They were mesmerizing, like an optical illusion. Huge lavender buttons and green bows were scattered throughout, clashing like a thirteen-year-old boy’s outfit for his first junior high school dance.

I turned to stare out the window as shoppers at the Valencia mall walked back and forth, carrying packages and chatting with friends. It was a day, not unlike most Saturday mornings at a local coffee house. I was here for my usual black coffee, and all I needed was a table and enough discipline to finish the proposal I’d promised Ryan Hanson . . . yesterday.

Being an adrenaline junkie, I’d had this great idea for an outdoor adventure park, complete with zipline, rock climbing, and life-sized mazes. Maybe even a hot air balloon – I’d have to think about that one a little more. Ryan was an entrepreneur of sorts, investing in creative projects he believed had a chance for success. We’d been buddies in college, and he’d agreed to read my proposal.

As the line for coffee moved forward, the girl with the enormous bag moved with it. The purse was slung over one shoulder, strands of red hair caught underneath the handle. Something about her body language made me think she wasn’t happy to be here. She kept shifting positions, as if uneasy. Fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides, and every thirty seconds or so, she’d pull out her cell phone—checking for messages or the time . . . I wasn’t sure.

Someone tapped my shoulder from behind, and I turned to find a cute blonde wearing skinny jeans and a tight red tank top that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Being a gentleman, and most of all wanting to honor God, I kept my eyes on her face. She gestured to the girl next to her, who could have been her clone, except she had light brown hair and a blue tank top. I’m Krissy and this is Zoe. We need you to settle a bet.

I cracked a smile, aware that the buzzing of voices in the room quieted as if everyone wanted to hear what this bet entailed. Sure ladies, how can I help?

Krissy batted her eyelashes and put a hand on one hip. Zoe thinks you’re single, but I told her there’s no way someone as hot as you doesn’t have a girlfriend. She twirled her hair in that way girls do when they think they have a guy wrapped around their finger. I’d be willing to bet she’d never been turned down before.

Inwardly, I groaned. So not in the mood for this today. Being unattached, I wasn’t in the habit of turning away the attention of cute chicks. But after Tess and I broke off our engagement, or rather, she broke it off by eloping with her ex-boyfriend, I couldn’t find it in me to test the relationship waters again. At least on my own, I knew I wouldn’t get burned. I forced a smile that only my own family would know wasn’t genuine. Zoe’s right.

Maybe you’d like to join us for coffee then? Krissy asked with a confident lilt to her voice, as if she already knew what my answer would be.

Sorry, ladies. I came here to work.

Krissy frowned, her lips forming into a childish pout. Zoe elbowed her in the ribs and leaned in close. Check out bag lady's shawl. I think my grandma has something similar in her closet. So tacky, she whispered in a confidential tone, that wasn’t very confidential, given everyone in the room could hear.

Both girls burst out laughing. I followed their gaze to the redhead who’s bag I’d noticed earlier. Sure enough, she wore a gold shawl, and it covered her much like a garbage bag would. Gold and brown fringe lined the bottom, and it reminded me of something you’d see on the cover of a vintage crochet magazine. Oddly enough, I knew magazines like that existed because my sister, Liv, had her own sewing business, and had thrust a few sewing catalogs my way a time or two. Usually when she had a new project. 

Far be it from me to criticize anyone’s clothing, but the shawl was tacky by most people’s standards. Maybe the mustardy gold color was the real culprit. And that was saying something coming from me since I was no fashion expert. Liv had to help me pick out clothes the last time I went shopping. Still, I felt bad for the girl. She hadn’t done anything to deserve their laughter. Redhead turned around quick enough that I knew she’d heard Zoe’s insult. Her gaze moved to the girls behind me, expression pained. When her eyes landed on me, they widened. A deep blush spread over her neck and face, and she twirled back around so fast her bag nearly took out the lady behind her. 

There was another tap on my shoulder. I rolled my eyes and turned around. Yes?

It was Zoe this time. Don’t you think that girl’s a lost cause? I mean, that shawl, that purse, who goes out in public like that?

I frowned. What do clothes have to do with being a lost cause? Her comment hit a nerve. No one should be referred to that way. Over the years, I’d found that people who wanted to elevate themselves, often tried to cut others down. I had a feeling that was happening here. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the line move. Redhead was just finishing her order.

Krissy stepped in front of Zoe, blocking my view of her friend. Oh, come on. Be honest. Her voice dripped with bold, self-assurance. Who are you more attracted to—someone like her? She pointed to Redhead, who was now waiting at the side counter for her drink. Or someone like me?

Had she really just asked that? My shoulders stiffened as my fists clenched.  I don’t compare women. Never ends well.

Her lips formed into a sneer. Don’t tell me you can’t see there’s a huge difference between me and her.

I can see a difference, but it’s not in your favor.

I’d learned the hard way that a beautiful face wasn’t enough. If I ever got married – and I doubted that would ever happen now – it would be to a woman who was as equally beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. And of course, she’d have a heart for the Lord.

Next in line. The barista’s voice rose above the crowd, giving me an excuse to turn away from the girls. As I did, someone barreled into my chest and ice-cold liquid spilled across my shirt, saturating all the way to my skin. A large plastic cup clattered to the ground.

Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! I can’t believe I just did that. The largest green eyes I’d ever seen looked up at me through long lashes. It was Redhead, and her full pink lips were opened wide like she was about to hyperventilate. She scrambled for tissues inside her bag and began dabbing at my t-shirt in a panic. 

I glanced around the room. Everyone within a few feet had backed away, not wanting to get near the walking catastrophe. Don’t worry about it. At least it wasn’t hot.

She froze and those bright eyes grew even larger. Good gravy, you’re right. What if I’d ordered a cappuccino? Or a latte? You’d be burned right now.

Good gravy? Wasn’t that phrase a bit dated? Who talked like that anymore? Maybe Grandma Donovan. But she lived in Kansas on a farm. It’s a good thing you ordered the . . .

Ice blended coffee with whipped cream and Caramel topping.

That’s what felt so sticky. Right. I glanced down at my shirt and used a finger to dip into the whipped cream that clung to my shirt, lifting it to my mouth. Tastes good.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh my stars, can this day get any worse?

There were snickers from behind, but I kept my gaze trained on the redhead. No harm done. It could have happened to anyone.

Why doesn’t she use her shawl to clean up the mess? The singsong tone belonged to Krissy.

Ignore that, I said in a low voice, as her eyes filled with tears. She’s looking for an excuse to be mean. Comments like that aren’t worth your time.

Someone from behind let out a huff, but I didn’t turn to look. An employee came over with a mop, a bored expression on his face as if this happened frequently. I reached forward to touch Redhead’s elbow, lost somewhere within that massive shawl, and lead her out of the way. What’s your name? 

Ellie.

I’m Noah. I held out a hand for her to shake.

She looked at it like it was a poisonous plant, then blinked and reached for my hand, her skin soft and warm. She let out a breath. I must be so pink right now. Why, oh why, are redheads cursed when it comes to blushing? I must look a sight.

Don’t worry about what everyone –

Before I could finish that sentence, the bag fell off her shoulder and paraphernalia fell out, littering the floor.

Oh my word, now I’ve done it. Ellie sunk to her knees and began frantically putting items back into her purse.

I bent down to help, as customers stepped around us to form a line on the other side of the store. Picking up a red inhaler, I handed it over, expecting her to put it away with the rest of her things. Instead, she took a puff, breathing in.

Are you okay? Can you breathe alright?

I’m fine. Sometimes anxiety triggers my asthma. Better to be safe than sorry. She took another puff.

I nodded. The floor was cluttered with keys, a wallet, a box of cinnamon mints, Tylenol, a ton of receipts – no not a ton, exorbitant amounts of receipts. What are all these for? I gathered up the pieces of paper and handed them to Ellie.

For the