“Irish whiskey is for sipping, not gulping, knucklehead. This isn’t that cheap swill we used to sneak under the school bleachers with Mary in high school.”

Zoey picked up the red cup and extended her pinkie finger in the air with a grin and what he guessed was supposed to be an aristocratic accent.

“Well, excuse my lack of decorum, Mr. McKinnon. I’ll try to keep our upper-crust surroundings in mind the next time we drink together.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she looked around the shop. The walls were lined with pegboard, and there were machine parts and rubber belts and packages of filters hanging everywhere. It was good to see her smile return.

“I expect china cups and saucers next time.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh, that reminds me! I haven’t told you about my latest adventure with your godmother’s book club pals.”

“Oh no! What did Vickie and her geriatric gang do now?”

The Rendezvous Falls book club was a bunch of silver-haired delinquents who’d convinced themselves they were matchmakers. The only problem was...they were horrible at it. He’d been in their sights for a while now, and lately Zoey was, too.

“They set me up with Rachel Reynolds. The librarian at the college. They’re determined to put me with every woman who works on that campus. It’s like they think I have a college fetish or something.” Brady College was a small private college sitting on the shore of Seneca Lake at the base of Main Street. It was the largest employer in the area.

“Wait...isn’t Rachel the one who lives on her boat? She’s kind of a recluse, right?”

“That’s her. Lives on her boat with three cats and five hundred books.”

“And you know about her cats and books because...?”

He leveled a get-real look at Zoey before draining his whiskey.

“Because I’m a gentleman and I walked her to her boat after dinner at the marina restaurant. It’s like she’s a hoarder, but only of books. On a boat. I’m surprised the thing still floats.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t tell if she was painfully shy or just really private. I did all the talking at dinner. I don’t know what the book club was thinking.”

Zoey laughed. “What are those sweary old people ever thinking? Vickie insists they put a lot of effort into this matchmaking project of theirs, but honestly it feels like they just throw darts at a list of all the single names in town and pray for a match.” She picked up the miniature vise grip she’d been using and bent over the small motor in front of her. “Last week they suggested I go out with Matt Black. He’s twelve years younger than me and lives with his mom! It’s a miracle they haven’t set you and I up with each other yet.”