Hello Dolly: Montana Matchmakers, #5

By Reina M. Williams

The fall chill is breezing into Loving…

 

Luke Levi is finally settled. His new business is shaping up, he's part of a community that values him, and leaves him to his private life. Except his neighbor, whose latest matchmaking scheme pushes Luke into the arms of the new woman in town. He falls hard and fast for the cheerful charmer, until his painful past makes him question whether it's time to move on again.

 

Dolly Gallagher arrives in Loving, Montana to start over. And to be close to her aunt, the only family she has left. When she meets Luke, feelings she believed buried begin to blossom. But they need to stay professional, since she chooses Luke's company to contract on her new bookshop. Working together makes Dolly realize she's ready for love, but Luke is running scared. They'll end up alone again, unless they can both open to love.

 

And they may be in the cold unless the Montana Matchmakers help them keep the warmth of love!

 

Length: 160 pages

Heat level: Low heat-Kisses Only

Content Advisory: brief discussion of grief and childhood trauma; malicious/sexist gossip from secondary characters; brief mention of bullying and antisemitism

 

Find love in Loving with the Montana Matchmakers, inspired by Jane Austen's couples and classic Hollywood musicals like Hello, Dolly! and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers!
Sweet Christmas (short story)
Sweet Valentine (short story)
Sweet Spring (short story)
Sweet Summer (short story)

Hello Dolly (novella)
Sweet Fall (short story)
One Moment (novella)

Sweet Winter (short story)

Sweet Easter (short story)

Sweet May (short story)

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rickrack Books
• Release date: Jul 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393019053

Book preview

Prologue

The Matchmakers Two—Leave Everything to Me

Betty Davis peeked out the curtain of the back room at Hank’s Bar. Male voices rose and galloped in, young Cutler’s bachelor party getting going.

Another one about to be happily married, June Gallagher said from her spot at the round table. She sipped the neat whiskey she drank each meeting, a nod to her late husband, the first owner of Hank’s, formerly Hank’s Bar and Grill.

Betty and June were missing their usual companions tonight, but their monthly meeting continued despite it being just the two of them.

We’ve made some good matches. Betty patted her greying crop of soft curls and joined her friend, knocking back the last of her Shirley Temple, then stopping to fish out the third cherry. That sweet bartender, Junior, made a point of giving her extra cherries.

Merry Matchmakers is going strong, June declared. And it was true. They’d gone over their books and success rate, and their online matchmaking/dating and relationship coaching business was adding nicely to their respective nest eggs. Of course, she and June were no spring chickens, so it was more like gathering eggs for that omelet they’d need to eat for supper.

And Montana Matchmakers, Betty said, using the name Cutler had given them for their secret in-person services.

Not that she and June had had much to do with Cutler’s engagement to that nice Nora Delgado. Just some well-timed nudging was all the boy needed to get him back into the arms of his beloved. Just as all it had taken with his brothers Adam and Dean was to get them back into town. Their other brother Brandon had taken a bit more pushing, but he’d found his love too, just like his brothers. Those seven Manning brothers were June’s pet project. Betty had one of her own.

I have an idea. Betty dealt the cards for their usual post-meeting game of cribbage. You know young Luke? He’d been out there at the bar, nursing his beer, looking mournful. It was enough to bring tears to an old woman’s seen-it-all eyes.

Oh, yes. Your gruff neighbor with the hidden charm.

And kind, too. Isn’t your niece moving to town soon?

Dolly? Yes, but they wouldn’t suit. June placed two cards in the crib. Then she turned up the card, a queen of hearts.

Betty smiled. She had a twelve run now. Why not? She knew Dolly’s kind heart from her summers here with her aunt when she was a girl.

Well... June played another card. She was off her game.

From hello, those two will hit it off, you’ll see.

June humphed and counted her hand, only two points. Betty clucked her tongue as she set down her winning hand.

She’ll find where she belongs, June said.

Leave everything to me, Betty thought with a nod. For Betty Davis was convinced that where Dolly Gallagher belonged was here in Loving, with Betty’s good neighbor, Luke Levi.

Chapter One

Wake Up, Sunshine

Luke groaned at the continued knocking on his door. Rolling over, he cursed the number of drinks he’d had at Hank’s Bar the night before. He was usually more disciplined than that, and limited himself to one beer on occasion, but this had been an occasion—his friend Cutler Manning’s bachelor party. It was Cutler who had first hired him as a ranch hand when Luke had rolled into Montana several years back, and who had encouraged him to move to Loving when Luke grew tired of ranch life. Luke usually moved on every few years, but he’d been here in Loving longer than anywhere else in his adult life.

What is it? Luke called, but it came out a croak. Sitting up, he grabbed his head, which seemed to somehow be echoing the jackhammer he used to operate when he’d worked on road crews.

It’s me, you old troublemaker, a female voice called back. Mrs. Davis. Of course. It was Sunday morning, time for their usual brunch before he drove her to church.

He shook his head. It was rich, Mrs. Davis calling him old. She was seventy-five if she was a day, old enough to be his mother. Though his mom, if she’d still been alive, would’ve only been fifty-seven. She’d had him right out of high school, when she and his dad had been young, in love, and stupid enough to think that meant anything.

Somehow, he pulled himself out of bed. His mouth tasted worse than the dirt he’d been pushed in one too many times growing up. Sandy California dirt.

He tried to smooth his rumpled clothes, but there was no help for it. He’d need a long shower and some clean clothes to obliterate last night, among other things.

Padding to the kitchen, where his neighbor was banging a pan way too loudly onto the stove, he stretched.

Wake up, sunshine, she shouted.

I’m right here.

She gave a little start, then waved a hand at him. He kissed her pale cheek. Her signature lilac scent quelled the sick rising in his throat.

Sit you down and we’ll have some breakfast.

This was their Sunday morning routine. She came over, made them breakfast, and he drove her to church. Her greying hairdo didn’t move as she whirled back and forth between the large bag of food she’d brought over, the counters, stove, and the coffee maker. She plunked down a steaming cup in front of him.

He wrapped his hands around the mug, its warmth taking the chill off. It was late summer, but the cold was already setting in some nights.

Soon the roasted coffee scent was joined by the savory smells of bacon, veggie-egg scramble, biscuits, and Mrs. Davis’s homemade tomato chutney.

You spoil me, he said, as usual.

As usual, she waved off his comment. Setting two full plates on the table, she sat across from him.

Cutler’s party last night? she said by way of prying.

He shrugged. She’d hear all about it soon enough, if she hadn’t already, not that there was much to tell.

You’re not going to meet some nice woman at Hank’s.

There aren’t any nice single women here in town. Except you, of course.

Ha, you charmer. You’re too young for me. And you know I’m seeing Kenny besides. Only Mrs. Davis could get away with calling Kenneth Taft Kenny. He was the long-time mayor, and owned nearly half the town besides. All the widows in Loving were green over him and Mrs. Davis. You just don’t want to meet anyone.

He didn’t dispute the point, though he’d cooperated with her little matchmaking schemes before, just to keep her happy. All those women she’d set him up with had eventually found their happily ever afters—or moved somewhere else, which could be the same thing, for them, anyway. He didn’t need a happy dream or outcome. He was safe, out of trouble, and had a house and steady work. That was all he needed.

I meet people.

She chuckled before tucking into her food. He did the same.

Listen, now, she said once the first dig of hunger was filled in.

He sipped his coffee and waited.

You need to direct traffic in the parking lot today.

She often corralled him for these little duties. He was one of the few single, youngish men available for what she considered man’s work.

Sure.

It would be fine with him to be out in the sunshine that was left this season rather than cooped up in the church. Though when he caught her glancing at him with a satisfied smirk, he scratched at his stubbly chin. He knew that look. She was up to something. Something called trouble.

DOLLY CRANED HER NECK to try and see past the truck in front of her. Who’d have thought there’d be a mini traffic jam just to get into a church parking lot, here in this tiny Montana town. Maybe she should’ve stayed at her aunt’s place instead of venturing out, but she’d been lonely, as her aunt was out on wedding business. Aunt June often volunteered for wedding planner duties, so she told Dolly in her chatty letters. She and Aunt June preferred snail mail, but now they could talk in person.

She hummed a few lines from a favorite song. She seemed to be the last car waiting. Finally, the truck moved. A medium-build white man with brown hair waved her forward, then stopped her.

He leaned down to meet her gaze. Wow. He had some blue eyes: intense, penetrating blue. Hey there. Lot’s pretty full. You’ll need to park in the dirt lot.

She worried at her lip and looked away. No need to stare at the man, however arresting his eyes, and solid frame, were.

Maybe I’ll just turn around and find a place on the street. Priuses don’t do well in the dirt. And hers needed some fixing. It’d been dashed around the backroads on the way here, and something seemed to be wrong. But, being a Sunday, she couldn’t do anything about that. Maybe she should’ve walked from Aunt June’s. It just would’ve been a trek in her wedge sandals. She needed some new footwear. Hers screamed California girl when Montana winter sped closer.

He quirked a mischievous smile, just long enough to cause her insides to flip-flop. Sure. How about I wait for you, so you don’t have to walk in alone? he asked.