Free 9781631050275TheirPerfectMatchMarshNC by Alela Marsh Page A

reached out to cup her elbow while they crossed the street. Molly groaned inwardly. They hadn’t gone two blocks from the office, and already she was doing a slow burn from the inside out.
    Conversation lagged as Zane guided her down one street, across a few more, and finally led her into a neighborhood she’d never noticed before. The area was far from upscale. Sagging Victorian homes stood like weary sentinels on both sides of the street, interspersed here and there with an equally grimy brownstone. Even the pavement was pitted and cracked, with straggly brown weeds poking through the fractured asphalt.
    Still, the more she studied them, the more Molly appreciated the simple, homey charm of her surroundings. Well-loved toys and tricycles sat beside adult-sized rocking chairs and outdoor grills, and almost every window box still held the drying husks of summer flowers. Halfway down the block, a chubby orange cat peered suspiciously at them and rubbed its body against a massive ceramic planter. A Sox banner flapped proudly overhead.
    Molly smiled, both at the cat and at the quiet simplicity of the whole scene. The breakneck pace of Providence seemed a world away. So did her own ultramodern condominium, with its antiseptic pewter carpets and its firm “no-pet” policy.
    One question nagged at her though. What kind of restaurant could possibly be located here?
     Zane seemed to read her mind. Recapturing her arm, he guided her around the next corner, past a no-frills laundromat and a brick-front pharmacy that could have doubled as sets for a movie set in the 1950s. “Almost there.”
    Molly tried not to think about the ache in her feet while he led her down another short block and through a line of parked cars. Though every parking spot was filled, the sidewalk was nearly empty.
    “I didn’t know there were any quiet spots like this left in the city,” she mused.
    “People like to park down here, but they tend to shop and work closer to the main drag. That suits the rest of us just fine.”
    “The ‘rest of us’?” she asked curiously.
    Zane shrugged. “Those of us who know the neighborhood, I mean. It doesn’t just look old-fashioned around here. There’s still a community of people who care about and watch out for one another. That’s pretty rare these days.”
    To underscore his point, he raised his hand in greeting to a middle-aged woman who stood outside a shop, arranging antique furniture for sale. The woman waved back and directed a pointedly curious look at Molly.
    “Yes, it is,” Molly admitted. “But why do you know this place so well? I thought you’d been away at sea.”
    “I grew up here. Two and a half blocks from this very spot, to be precise. That’s another thing about the people here. They don’t forget you, no matter how long you’ve been away.”
    Molly nodded. She could certainly understand why the female population, at least, would be unable or unwilling to forget Zane Bishop.
    Finally, he motioned toward a squat brick building on their left. “Here we are.”
    Though it was in better repair than the others on the block, its red mortar façade and foot-worn wooden threshold suggested that, like the buildings around it, the Crackerbox Tavern belonged to a simpler era that had now almost vanished. When Zane pushed open the door, Molly saw that the décor inside did nothing to dispel the illusion. The arrangement of chrome-and-vinyl booths, neat plaid tablecloths, and especially the old-fashioned soda fountain beside the grill gave the impression that they’d stepped backward through time.
    Zane seemed to mistake her genuine pleasure in the Crackerbox for something else. “Don’t worry,” he laughed, sliding his arm under hers. “The Board of Health has given its stamp of approval. I hope you’re prepared for a truly memorable dining experience.”
    As far as Molly was concerned, it had become that the moment his body made contact with hers. Surprisingly, she’d forgotten all