On Thursday night when Hayley arrived at the Sled Dog Brewing Company, which overlooked the icebound Nanook River, she paused inside the doorway and breathed it in. After spending several months happily working with the trendy brewery for her matchmaking business, stepping inside felt a little bit like coming home.

The bitter scent of hops and the sweet smell of barley emanated from massive copper vats, which lent an industrial feel to the space. The brewery’s best bartender, Elizabeth Armstrong, always worked on Singles Night because the tips were so good, and her familiar playlist sounded from the speakers, a blend of 70s rock and modern country. Mark Volkoff, who managed the bar and restaurant, waved to Hayley from the booth where he liked to eat his meals and do his paperwork.

Hayley went over to greet him. As usual, he had a nearly-empty plate in front of him, a sliver of a bun and a handful of french fries, as well as leftover lettuce, tomato and onion slices he somehow never managed to tell the cook he wouldn’t eat. “Hi, Mark! Good dinner?”

Hayley didn’t care much for Mark, and she sensed he felt the same about her. As a result, their conversations tended to start out politely superficial and go downhill from there.

“The best,” he said.

“What’s new with you?” she asked.

“Same old, same old.” In his late forties, Mark was a former bodybuilder with a beer gut, greasy black hair, and pockmarked skin leftover from his teenage years. “And you?”

“Same old, same old for me, too.”

“Expecting a good crowd tonight?” He picked idly at the remains of his fries. “I hope so, because we raked it in last week.”

“I’m glad,” Hayley said. “Last week was good for me, too.”

“You’ve got quite the profitable gig going on,” Mark said. “You must be clearing, what, over five hundred bucks a week doing this?”

“I’m not complaining,” she said, remaining vague because it was none of his business.

The deal she had was that she charged a cover and kept it, while the brewery benefited from the resulting boost in business. The event had started off slowly, but once word got out about how fun it was, and once Hayley’s marketing efforts started full steam, Singles Night now regularly packed the bar to capacity.

“It must be nice to have an in with the owner,” he said.

The sneer in his voice was unmistakable, and Hayley remembered then why she didn’t much care for him. He was petty and resented her relationship with Claire. He’d rebuffed her initial proposal to host Singles Night at the bar, but Claire had seen the potential—in the event, and in Hayley—and overridden his decision.

“It’s definitely nice to have an in with the owner.” Hayley’s reply was friendly enough. “But Claire’s a smart businesswoman. She wouldn’t have agreed to it if it wasn’t good for her business, too. So it’s a win all around.” She was tempted to add that a better bar manager would have seen the potential of the event himself, but she didn’t. He was still the manager, after all, and she needed his cooperation.

“I’m not saying it’s not,” he said. “I’m only saying I need to get myself a side gig, too, where I can make five hundred a night without doing a hell of a lot of work. You know, like you do.”

“Now, now,” she said, refusing to be offended. “I’m helping people find love. It’s a worthy cause. Speaking of which, I’d better get everything set up. Say hi to your girlfriend for me.”

“Will do. And you say hi to—oh, wait, you have no one for me to say hi to.” Mark said it lightly so she couldn’t accuse him of deliberate insult, although they both knew perfectly well it was. “You need to go to your own Singles Night as a client, Hayley.”

“You’re so right.” She laughed so he wouldn’t know he’d struck a nerve. “I totally do.”

He couldn’t let it go. “The dating coach needs a coach of her own.”

“Ironic, huh?” she said, giving him a screw-you smile.

“You’re positively cliché.”

Gloating over his last word, Mark gathered a few cold fries from his plate, swished them around in a slather of ranch dressing, and popped them into his mouth.

* * *

The dating coach needs a coach of her own.

Mark’s observation reverberated through Hayley, making her feel inadequate from head to toe—not an optimal feeling when she had to gush enthusiastically about finding true love to a crowd of nearly one hundred people.

She needed to shake it off, and so Hayley rolled her eyes for Elizabeth’s benefit as she approached the bar. Elizabeth Armstrong was arrestingly pretty, with large, innocent blue eyes which contrasted with an ombre hairstyle that gave her a punk-rock vibe. Although she was thin—almost too thin—she nevertheless conveyed a street-scrappy kind of strength that was appealing.

“Is Mark being his usual delightful self?” Elizabeth said.

“You know it,” Hayley said.

“Are you ready for your first drink?”

“Definitely.” Hayley allowed herself two Lynchburg Lemonades on Singles Nights. The concoction of lemonade, whiskey, and triple sec would kick off the night with the perfect warm buzz, which she’d then work to maintain throughout the night. “I’ll arrange the tables while you make it, and then we can catch up. I want to hear what’s new in your world.”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Uh-oh,” Hayley said.

“No, nothing’s going on,” Elizabeth said. “Just the usual nonsense.”

Although the two women had grown close working together on the singles event, their backgrounds couldn’t have been more different. Hayley came from a rich society family while Elizabeth, a native of Golden Falls, was the daughter of the town’s most infamous criminal, Nate Armstrong. When Elizabeth was only eight years old, Nate, a police lieutenant, had been accused of stealing half a million dollars that had gone missing from the evidence room which was his responsibility to keep secure. While there had only been enough evidence to convict him of obstruction of justice, and he still maintained his innocence, everyone—including his family—believed him to be guilty of the theft, too. Being the daughter of a corrupt, now-imprisoned cop pretty much guaranteed Elizabeth’s life would be hard. Even so, Hayley considered her one of the most decent people she knew.

“Elizabeth, do you mind if I get the official playlist going?”

“Go right ahead,” she said.

Together Hayley and Elizabeth had created a pick-up playlist for Singles Night, full of campy songs like ABBA’s Take A Chance On Me and Cheap Trick’s I Want You To Want Me. She’d been told some non-single people came for the music alone.

After arranging the tables and chairs into convivial groups of six, Hayley set up a Bluetooth wall projector for the icebreaker part of the evening, tested her microphone, and set up the table at the door to collect the cover charge.

“Oh, hey!”

Hayley looked up. It was Rebecca Miller, who’d offered to help Hayley that night by collecting the cover.

“Hey, yourself!” Hayley said, and then noticed Rebecca’s outfit: jeans, a ripped hooded sweatshirt that looked a decade old, and fishing deck rubber boots—in other words, the opposite of what someone should wear to such an event if they hoped to turn heads. “Uh … you do know this is a singles event, right?”

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Rebecca retorted good-naturedly.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” Hayley wore black leggings, black riding boots, and a long cream-colored cowl-neck mohair sweater. It was one of her favorite outfits because the sweater covered her increasingly fleshy upper arms, as well as her hips.

“Nothing if you’re Claire’s age,” Rebecca said. “You’re lucky you’ve got such awesome hair. That’s your saving grace, no matter what you wear.”

Hayley laughed. She knew her thick long auburn hair was her best feature, and she spent far more money and time on it than she should. It was her secret pride.

“Duly noted,” she said. “Hey, so what are you wearing under your sweatshirt?”

“A tank top,” Rebecca said. “Why?”

“Would you take off your sweatshirt? Please? For me?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, but she took it off, with an immediate increase in sex appeal.

Hayley dug in her purse, found an elastic band, and styled Rebecca’s long blond hair into Dutch braids and a low messy bun.

“Gorgeous,” Hayley said. “You do need my earrings, though.”

She’d worn new dangle earrings, and while she’d been excited to wear them, they’d complete Rebecca’s quick transformation.

“Much better,” Hayley said approvingly. She squirted a spray of perfume in the air from the small bottle she kept in her purse and pulled Rebecca and herself under it to catch the dissipating spray.

“There,” Hayley said. “Rebecca, now you’re hot.”

“Thanks!” Rebecca looked at herself in the mirror. “Maybe I will take a boy home tonight. Or one of these nights.”

“You get first dibs. Take your pick as he comes through the door, and I’ll put my matchmaking skills to work on your behalf.”

Elizabeth smiled from behind the bar. “Hey, what about me?”

Hayley looked at her friend. “Are you over Jeff already?”

Jeff had been Elizabeth’s most recent boyfriend, and the best one she’d ever had. Unfortunately, he’d joined the Coast Guard shortly after they met.

“I guess I have to be, don’t I? It’s not like he’s coming back.”

“Just say the word, and I’ll find you a keeper,” Hayley said. “If anyone deserves a happily ever after, it’s you.”

“Oh, look—your first clients.”

Hayley turned toward the door and smiled at the group of three men who’d arrived. A sudden happiness overtook her. She loved organizing nights like this—making sure everyone had fun, and maybe even helping a few people find love.

Rebecca collected money as people arrived. Hayley was the greeter, and she tried to make everyone feel excited and at ease as she steered them to tables. As always, there were more men than available women, but Hayley tried to balance the genders as well as she could by encouraging mingled seating.

She was halfway across the bar when four men came in, none of whom she recognized, but her heart sprang into double-time at the sight of them. They were handsome, all of them. Really, really handsome. Clean cut, which not many Alaska men were. And they were all physically fit. All deliciously masculine.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said out loud, and then looked around quickly to see if anyone had heard her.

One woman who’d arrived earlier and alone, saving a table for her later-arriving companions, heard Hayley and laughed. “The firefighters have arrived, I see.”

So those are the firefighters Cassie promised. Hot damn.

“Wow, they’re good looking,” Hayley said.

“They are and they know it,” the woman said. “But thankfully they’re good guys, too.”

“You’re Maggie, right?” Hayley had introduced herself earlier. Maggie had regular features, wavy chin-length brown hair, and blue eyes that looked smart. Her slightly lopsided smile made it seem as if she was holding in a clever insight, and Hayley liked the mischievous look she had about her that gave the impression she’d be a lot of fun.

“Good memory,” Maggie said. “I’m Maggie Barnes.”

“You know them?”

“I’m here with them, actually,” she said. “One of them’s my brother. Stay here a minute. I’ll introduce you.”

Hayley interacted with single men all the time. It was her job, after all, and most of the time she objectively sized them up and tried to get a sense of what sort of partner they’d match well with. She’d never looked at matchmaking clients subjectively—never felt anything personal at first glance. But these four were collectively as sexy as any men she’d seen in her life, ever.

And there was one in particular. Brown-haired and brown-eyed, he was tall and lean-but-strong, with coloring that indicated he spent lots of time outdoors in the cold Alaska air. He had prominent cheekbones, a firm jawline, and an air of straightforward confidence Hayley found incredibly appealing.

The group of firefighters spotted Maggie and made their way over to her, stopping to greet other people along the way. They moved as a unit, although Hayley couldn’t stop staring at the man who’d caught her eye first. Leading the group, he seemed most determined to get to their table and looked in their direction with a focused expression. His honey-brown eyes captured hers, and Hayley felt unsteady on her feet.

Intense, she thought. Very, very intense.

Hayley liked intense men. She’d found they were few and far between, and while she’d never actually dated one, she’d always thought they must be good in bed.

This man coming toward her looked like he’d be very good in bed.

That line of thought took powerful control of her imagination.

More specifically, what his hands would feel like running over her bare skin.

What his lips would feel like, kissing her, hot and urgent.

What it would be like to feel the heat of his gaze across her naked body.

Take it easy, Hayley told herself. You’re the matchmaker, not here to sample the goods yourself.

By the time Hayley had released the deep, steadying breath she made herself take, the group had arrived at the table.

Maggie stood and introduced them: Dylan Hart, Tom Steele, Sean Kelly.

“Nice to meet you,” Hayley said, smiling at each in turn. “Thank you so much for coming tonight.”

“This is Hayley March, and she’s running the event.” Maggie hadn’t introduced the man who’d made Hayley feel weak in the knees, saving the best for last. “Hayley, this is my brother, Josh. Josh Barnes.”

“Hayley March,” he said, and she smiled. She liked his deep, confident voice, liked hearing her name come out of his mouth. He stepped forward and shook her hand. His handshake was warm, dry, firm, and a zing went up Hayley’s arm at his touch. “Where have you been all my life?”