Читать книгу The Little Maverick Matchmaker - Stella Bagwell - Страница 9

Chapter One

“Wow! Look at all the people, Dad! This is gonna be super fun!”

Stifling a groan, Drew Strickland pulled his gaze away from the large crowd milling about on the grassy lawn of the Rust Creek Falls park to glance down at his seven-year-old son, Dillon. The child’s brown hair was already mussed despite the careful combing Drew had given it before they’d left home, plus the tail of his plaid cotton shirt was pulled loose from the back of his jeans. However, it wasn’t the boy’s disheveled appearance that concerned Drew. It was the mischievous twinkle in Dillon’s brown eyes that worried him the most.

Like his late mother, Dillon didn’t possess a shy bone in his body, and Drew had the uneasy feeling that before this back-to-school picnic ended, his son was going to do a bit too much talking. Mostly about things he shouldn’t be talking about.

“It does look like plenty of folks are here today,” Drew replied to his son’s excited comment, while silently wishing he could think of one good reason to grab Dillon’s hand and hightail the both of them away from the gathering. But that would hardly be fair to his son. Nor would leaving give Drew the chance to be a dad for one day, at least. And being a real, hands-on dad to Dillon was one of the main reasons his parents had pushed him to move to this little mountain town. It had been their way of forcing Drew to take on the full responsibility of Dillon’s care.

“That’s gonna make everything better!” Dillon grabbed a tight hold on his father’s hand and tugged him toward the crowd. “Come on, Dad. I want you to meet my new friends.”

Drew and Dillon had only moved to Rust Creek Falls a month ago, yet already his son had made fast friends with many of his second-grade classmates and most of the adults who called Strickland’s Boarding House their home. As for Drew, he had a few relatives in the small Montana town, but no one he could actually call a close friend. But then, a doctor, especially an OB-GYN, didn’t have much time to socialize.

Who was he trying to kid? Drew wondered. He’d never been a people person. Even when Evelyn had been alive, he’d always been more than happy to stand in the background and let her do most of the talking.

But Evelyn wasn’t at his side anymore, he thought grimly. She never would be. And now it was up to him to step forward and be the kind of father that Dillon needed and deserved. Even if that meant mixing and mingling with total strangers.

Father and son had barely moved more than ten feet into the gathering when two young boys and a girl, all of them Dillon’s age, came racing up to them.

“Hi, Dillon!” the three children shouted in unison.

Grinning broadly, Dillon gave his friends a wave, then proudly began introductions.

“Dad, these are my best buddies.” He pointed to a towheaded boy with a face full of freckles and then to the other boy with black hair that looked as though it was just starting to grow out from a summer buzz cut. “This is Oliver and Owen. And that’s Rory,” he added, pointing to the lone female.

Even though Rory was wearing jeans and a T-shirt like her male counterparts, the plastic tiara crowning her long blond hair was an all-girl fashion statement.

Drew smiled a greeting at the trio. “Hi, guys. It’s nice to meet some of Dillon’s friends.”

The boy named Oliver immediately spoke up, “Dillon says you’re a hero. ’Cause you’re a doctor. Is that right?”

A hero? Far from it, Drew wanted to say. If he’d been anything close to a hero, his wife would be walking around this park with her son, rather than Drew. But to hear that Dillon had put him on such a pedestal filled him with gratification, even if it was undeserved.

“I am a doctor,” Drew answered simply.

Owen looked properly impressed. “Gee, can you sew up cuts and fix a broken arm?”

“Of course he can, silly!” Rory chided her friend. “Any ole doctor can do that.”

“My dad can fix anybody that’s sick,” Dillon boasted proudly.

“Dillon,” Drew gently admonished. “You’re stretching things a bit.”

“Well, almost anybody,” the boy amended.

Deciding that was enough medical talk, Oliver said to Dillon, “Wanta come with us? We’re gonna go gather some pinecones.”

“What for?” Dillon asked.

The black-haired boy rolled his eyes. “To throw at the dorky first graders, what else?”

Drew was about to tell his son he wasn’t about to throw pinecones at any child, much less one younger than him, when Dillon suddenly said, “Naw, I’m going to stay with my dad, so I can show him around. He doesn’t know many people yet and I do.”

“Okay. See ya later, Dillon,” Rory called as the three kids turned and ambled away.

“Dillon, this deal with the pinecones, I—”

“Oh, that was nothing, Dad. Oliver wants to act like he’s a tough guy, but he ain’t.”

“He isn’t,” Drew corrected his son’s grammar.

“That’s right. Oliver is just a big mouth. He wouldn’t hurt a flea even if it was biting him.”

Drew let out a heavy breath. At thirty-three, it had been many years since he’d been a boy of Dillon’s age. And even then he hadn’t been surrounded by a group of friends. He’d spent most of his time on the back of a horse, helping his father and brothers work their ranch near Thunder Canyon, a town just several hundred miles from Rust Creek Falls.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Drew told his son, then glanced at his watch. “Are you hungry? I’m sure there are some tables of food around here somewhere.”

“Oh, no, Dad! We don’t want to eat yet. Let’s walk around and look at the girls.”

Girls? He hadn’t noticed his son talking about girls. But that was probably Drew’s own fault. Before they’d moved to Rust Creek Falls a month ago, Drew hadn’t spent the kind of time a real father should spend with his son. For the past six years, since Evelyn’s death, Drew had been content to let his parents Jerry and Barbara deal with raising Dillon. But now, the move away from Thunder Canyon had forced Drew to become a hands-on father and he was beginning to see the task wasn’t easy.

“Look at the girls?” Drew asked drily. “Are you thinking you’d like to have a girlfriend?”

Dillon’s impish grin grew sly as he tugged on his father’s hand. “I have to find the right one first, Dad. Let’s go!”

Finding it easier not to argue the point, Drew went along with his son. With any luck, he thought, he’d run into someone from the clinic and strike up a conversation that would divert Dillon from his matchmaking game. Yet as father and son moved deeper into the crowd, Drew failed to spot one adult he knew well enough to greet, much less engage in a chat.

Realizing Dillon was yanking on his arm, Drew looked down to see the boy pointing toward two women standing in a group of people gathered in the shade of an evergreen.

“Oh, look at that one, Dad. She’s really pretty. And the one next to her with the red hair is, too. Don’t you think she’d make a great girlfriend?”

Totally bemused by his son’s suggestions, Drew glanced at the two women who’d caught his son’s eye. He vaguely recognized the one with long dark hair as Paige Traub and the redhead standing next to her as Marina Dalton. Both were elementary teachers at his son’s school.

“They’re both very pretty, Dillon. But both of those ladies are already happily married.”

Dillon tilted his head to one side as he cast his father a dubious look. “Don’t you want to be happily married, too, Daddy?”

Feeling as though he’d been sucker punched, Drew was forced to look away and draw a deep breath. Being only twelve months old when his mother had died, Dillon had no memories of her. He couldn’t know how much she’d loved her baby. He couldn’t remember how her hands had gently held and soothed him. Or how her soft voice had sung to him. No. Dillon couldn’t remember anything about the woman who’d given him life. But Drew hadn’t forgotten. If anything, he’d clung to her memory, while deep inside, the resentment of losing her festered like a sore that could never heal.

Bending down to his son’s level, Drew gently tried to explain. “Look, Dillon, your dad has already been happily married to your mother.”

Dillon’s little features wrinkled up in a frustrated frown. “But what about now, Dad? You’re not married now!”

Straightening to his full height, Drew let out another long sigh. God help him get through this day, he prayed. “Dillon, I understand that most of your friends have married mommies and daddies. But those daddies are different. They’re not like me.”

Dillon’s bottom lip thrust forward. “But you could be like them,” he argued. “If you wanted to!”

His patience wearing thin, Drew ushered his son forward. “That’s enough of that. Come along and we’ll get something to eat.”

For the next few minutes, Drew managed to keep Dillon’s attention on a plate of sandwiches and chips. But as soon as the food disappeared, Dillon was anxious to return to his quest of finding a girlfriend for his father.

Thankfully, Drew spotted his cousin Claire Wyatt on the opposite side of the milling crowd. She worked as a cook at Strickland’s Boarding House and was married to Levi, who managed a furniture store in Kalispell. Since their daughter, Bekka, was only four years old and not yet ready for kindergarten, Drew wasn’t sure what Claire was doing here at the school picnic. He supposed she’d taken the opportunity to visit with friends. At the moment she was in a conversation with an older couple he’d seen a few times in the boardinghouse.

“There’s Claire,” Drew said, in an effort to divert Dillon’s attention. “Let’s go talk with her.”

“Aw, Dad, don’t be a fuddy-duddy. We talk to Claire all the time when we’re home,” he reasoned. Then, like a bird dog that had spotted a flock of quail, the child suddenly went on alert. “Look at that lady over there by the punch bowl, Dad! She’s pretty, huh?”

Drew was about to warn Dillon that if he didn’t quit this nonsense right now, the two of them were going to leave. But before he could get the words out of his mouth, Dillon yanked on his hand and pointed straight at the woman.

Drew glanced in the direction of his son’s finger to see a tall young woman with a blond braid hanging over one shoulder and a pair of long, long legs encased in close-fitting blue jeans. He had to admit Dillon had good taste. She was definitely pretty. But Drew wasn’t interested in women. Pretty or otherwise.

He was about to turn his attention back to Dillon when she suddenly looked up and caught the two of them ogling her. Even with a few feet of ground separating them, Drew could see a blush sting her cheeks before she quickly turned her back to them.

Oh Lord, she’d probably already sized him up as some sort of creep, Drew thought.

“Dillon, it’s not polite to point. I don’t want to see your finger pointing at anyone again. Hear me?”

It wasn’t often that Drew scolded his son over anything. But to be honest he wasn’t around long enough to do much scolding, or otherwise. These past four weeks, since they’d moved to Rust Creek Falls, had been the first time Drew had parented Dillon without his parents or grandparents to back him up. From this little outing today, it was clear he had plenty to learn about corralling a seven-year-old boy with the energy of three kids.

“Okay, Dad. I won’t point,” Dillon promised. “But let’s go talk to her. She looks nice!”

Drew was about to warn his son that just because she looked nice didn’t mean she’d be receptive to meeting strangers. But the words never made it past his lips. Dillon began to tug him forward, and deciding it was easier to go along than to make a scene, Drew reluctantly followed his son.

By the time they reached the woman by the punch bowl, she’d turned back around and Drew could see she was eyeing the both of them with wry speculation.

“Hi! I’m Dillon Strickland,” Dillon boldly introduced. “This is my dad. His name is Drew Strickland.”

Her gaze traveled from Dillon to Drew, then back to the child, before a wide smile spread across her face.

“Well, hello, Dillon and Drew,” she said warmly. “I’m Josselyn Weaver.”

She shook Dillon’s hand and then turned to Drew. “I’m the new school librarian at Rust Creek Falls Elementary,” she informed him.

Drew extended his hand, and for a moment their palms touched and her small delicate fingers wrapped around his. He wasn’t sure why the brief contact registered in his brain, but it did. And he couldn’t let go of her hand fast enough.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Weaver,” Drew politely replied. “Dillon is in the second grade this year and new to town. So I thought it would be good for him to attend the picnic today and see some of his teachers and friends.”

“For sure,” Josselyn said with another broad smile for Dillon. “Do you like to read, Dillon?”

Drew was shocked to see his son was already completely charmed by the new librarian. His mouth had fallen open, while twinkling stars were lighting up his brown eyes.

“Oh, yeah!” he exclaimed. “I love to read. Well, I mean—I do if I can’t play video games or watch TV. I have lots and lots of books, though.”

Drew cast a skeptical glance at his son. As best as he could remember, the shelves on the walls in Dillon’s bedroom might be holding two or three children’s books and a few comics. If Dillon was reading other things while Drew was working at the clinic, he didn’t know about it.

“My son does read,” Drew told her, “but I think the ‘lots and lots’ is stretching it a bit.”

Josselyn laughed and Drew decided the sound was like the happy ring of sleigh bells on a snowy morning. He wished he could hear it again.

“That’s okay,” she assured him. “The fact that he reads even one book is encouraging. And it’s my job to find stories that make children want to read more.”

“I read the funnies in the newspaper with my gramps,” Dillon spoke up. “He says I’m a good reader.”

“Well now, that’s great to hear,” she told him. “Then I’ll be seeing you whenever you visit the library.”

“Oh, you bet! You’ll be seeing me plenty.” He grinned at Josselyn, then looked proudly up at Drew. “My dad helps women get babies.”

It was a good thing Drew wasn’t drinking punch. Otherwise, he would have spewed a mouthful all over the woman.

Josselyn Weaver turned a bemused look on Drew and for no reason at all, he found himself studying the green color of her eyes. Like a first leaf in spring, he decided. “Uh—pardon my son. He means that I...deliver babies. I’m a doctor. An OB-GYN.”

Her gaze carefully slipped over his face, as though she was trying to decide for herself if he was actually a doctor. A woman’s doctor, at that.

“I see. Do you work here in Rust Creek Falls?”

“For now. I’m here on a temporary basis. The clinic is expecting another doctor to join the staff after the first of the year. He’s away right now. Doing Peace Corps work.”

“And you’re filling in until he gets here. That’s nice.”

She might call it nice, but for Drew this whole move to Rust Creek Falls had been an upheaval. He’d never been a person who cared for change. Thunder Canyon, where he’d been born and raised, where he’d lived with Evelyn and worked at the local clinic, was home to him. It was where he felt comfortable and hidden from the rest of the world. But this cheerful woman didn’t need to hear about his gloomy thoughts.

“I hope that my being here is helping the community,” he said, then glanced down at Dillon. The boy was closely watching the exchange between his dad and Josselyn Weaver. Drew could only imagine what was going on in the fertile imagination of his son’s mind. “And Dillon is enjoying the change.”

“That’s good. I don’t imagine he’s had any trouble making friends.”

“No. He’s never been remotely close to being shy.”

Dillon’s gaze vacillated between the two adults before he finally settled his attention on Josselyn.

“Are you married?” the boy asked bluntly.

The woman’s cheeks turned beet red and it was all Drew could do to keep from groaning out loud.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Weaver. My son definitely needs more lessons in manners. You see, he, uh, is on a search to find his dad a girlfriend,” Drew attempted to explain.

“No! Not a girlfriend,” Dillon immediately corrected. “I’m gonna find him a wife!”

The sound of conversations were all around them and throughout the crowd were spates of laughter, along with shouts and squeals from playing children. Yet the short space between Drew and Josselyn Weaver felt thick with silence.

“Oh. Well, that’s a serious search,” she said, her dubious gaze landing on Drew’s face.

Mortified at the whole situation, Drew grabbed Dillon by the hand. “Uh—we have to be going. It’s been nice meeting you, Miss Weaver.”

Before she could say more, Drew quickly urged his son away from the pretty librarian.

Dillon instantly complained, “Dad, why are you leaving Miss Weaver? She was really nice! And pretty, too! And she liked talking to us. I could tell!”

His expression grim, Drew stared straight ahead as he hurried his son through the crowd. “I think we’ve done enough picnicking for one day, son. We’re going home.”

“Why are we going home?” Dillon stubbornly demanded. “We haven’t talked to everybody yet.”

“We didn’t come to the picnic to talk to everybody,” Drew said, trying to keep the thread of anger in his voice from unraveling completely. “And we certainly didn’t come to pick out girlfriends or wives, or any such thing as that.”

“Aw, Dad, you’re messing up bad,” Dillon grumbled. “You’re letting a good one get away.”

The comment had Drew glancing down at his son. What could a seven-year-old boy know about women? Apparently quite a bit, Drew thought. Josselyn Weaver was beautiful and intelligent and sweet. The kind of woman a man searched for in a lifelong mate. But Drew wasn’t searching for a mate. Short-or long-term. And the quicker Dillon got that through his head, the better.

“We’re not on a fishing trip, Dillon.”

“That’s right,” Dillon said sullenly. “Gramps takes me fishing. Not you.”

Gramps. Yes, in one short month Dillon and his great-grandfather had formed a strong bond between them. And Drew was glad Old Gene had taken such an interest in Dillon. He was pleased that his son had found a solid male figure to connect with while they were here in Rust Creek Falls. Yet Drew couldn’t help but be envious of the close connection. It was something he’d never had with his son. And to make matters worse, Drew had no one to blame for the distance between them except himself.

A stronger man wouldn’t have allowed the death of his wife to cripple him to the point that he needed help just making it through the day, much less taking care of a baby. A man of deeper character would have never buried himself in his work and allowed his son to be raised by others.

Drew didn’t know whether moving to this little mountain town had opened his eyes or if the fact that Dillon seemed to be growing up at a rapid rate was making him look at his life differently. But either way, Drew realized he wanted to make a change. One that would bring him closer to his son.