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The Little Maverick Matchmaker
Stella Bagwell
The perfect match?Widowed doctor Drew Strickland, is dedicated to his job and to his seven-year-old son, Dillon. Young Dillon has set his sights on making pretty school librarian Josselyn Weaver a part of their family. Can a big-hearted little boy lead his grieving dad to true love?


The courtship of dillon’s father
Rust Creek Ramblings
The town’s new doctor, widower Drew Strickland, is dedicated to his job and to his seven-year-old son, Dillon. Young Dillon has set his sights on making pretty school librarian Josselyn Weaver a part of their family. But Drew is afraid to love again, and Josselyn fears rejection. Buckle up your backpacks, dear readers, and see if a bighearted little boy can lead his grieving dad and our favorite librarian down the path to true love!
After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.
Also by Stella Bagwell (#ulink_05567e14-0f19-5470-9a79-498c96efe7d2)
Her Man on Three Rivers Ranch
The Arizona Lawman
Her Kind of Doctor
The Cowboy’s Christmas Lullaby His
Badge, Her Baby…Their Family? Her
Rugged Rancher
Christmas on the Silver Horn Ranch
The Maverick’s Bride-to-Order
Her Sweetest Fortune
Fortune’s Perfect Valentine
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Little Maverick Matchmaker
Stella Bagwell


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07807-8
THE LITTLE MAVERICK MATCHMAKER
© 2018 Harlequin Books S.A.
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my late brother, Lloyd Henry Cook.
I miss you so much.
Contents
Cover (#u2469f532-ad47-5ac4-9f72-4153298ced3e)
Back Cover Text (#u1cb1f978-3db5-50be-9d4b-111fda7ce73d)
About the Author (#u85b1f66a-1d7c-5045-8252-c2e3f63d8417)
Booklist (#ulink_b1cee46c-e791-555f-be10-3b3f42a1000d)
Title Page (#u07f9a1f1-2823-5035-b0c5-cc9d09148ed5)
Copyright (#uf1d39f08-17cd-5d9e-9ebf-998c90181139)
Dedication (#ua7712c38-aa19-5f03-9363-89219055db21)
Chapter One (#u84035a97-4749-5d34-8c1e-3c65fd2cd868)
Chapter Two (#u429550b9-0df8-5177-b56e-2e6f0074a10a)
Chapter Three (#ua6db1409-551d-5e69-9e4c-be17f5c323f2)
Chapter Four (#u683d0756-a2d0-5234-af6b-0fc90ee26537)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u7ae3c451-07a2-5598-b400-1c48679f6046)
“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.
Chapter Two (#u7ae3c451-07a2-5598-b400-1c48679f6046)
That evening on Sunshine Farm in her cozy little cabin, Josselyn sat cross-legged on the couch and stared blankly at the TV perched in one corner of the living room. After a very long day at the town picnic, she’d thought she would unwind by watching one of her favorite programs, but so far her mind refused to latch onto the plot. The characters could’ve been speaking in a foreign language for the past thirty minutes and she would’ve never noticed.
Josselyn aimed the remote at the TV and pressed the off button. She was wasting her time, she thought. Ever since the school picnic had ended and she’d driven home, she hadn’t been able to think about anything except Drew Strickland and his adorable son.
When the two of them had first approached her, she’d guessed the mother had been somewhere in the crowd visiting with friends. But then Dillon had made that comment about finding his father a wife and blown her assumption to pieces.
So where was Dillon’s mother? she wondered for the umpteenth time. Even if the boy’s parents were divorced, the mother should’ve found the fortitude to put her differences with her ex aside and attended the school picnic with her son.
With a sigh of frustration, she tossed aside the remote and left the couch. Darn it! Why couldn’t she quit thinking about the dad and son?
Probably because the dad was drop-dead delicious, she thought as she gazed out the window at the shadowy patch of lawn in front of her cabin. Even now, hours after their impromptu meeting at the park, his image was still burned in her brain. Tall, long-legged and lean, Drew Strickland was a genuine Doctor Dreamy. Dark brown hair, cut in a short, ruffled style, had framed a face dominated by brown eyes and a pair of firm lips that were bracketed by the most gorgeous dimples she’d ever seen on a man.
The doctor ought to be carrying a warning hazard to all women who came within ten feet of him, she thought with a wistful sigh. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his son had been so cute and endearing she’d wanted to snatch him up in a tight bear hug.
So Dr. Drew Strickland has enough sex appeal to rob a woman of her breath. And his son is the kind of kid that touches the very middle of your heart. That doesn’t mean you have any business thinking about them. They’re both heart trouble walking on two legs. You need to forget them and get on with your life.
Yes, getting on with her life was the very reason she’d moved to Rust Creek Falls in the first place, Josselyn reminded herself. She hadn’t studied long and hard to acquire a master’s in library science just to get herself mixed up with a lost cause. One that would end up dealing her far more misery than happiness.
A few weeks ago, Josselyn had been living in Laramie, Wyoming, in an apartment not far from her parents, Velma and Walt Weaver. Her two older brothers, Lloyd and Cameron, both worked on a prominent cattle ranch outside the city, while her younger sister, Patti, was still living with their parents as she finished up her last year of college. The Weavers had always been a tight-knit group, and none of them except for her mother had understood Josselyn’s need to move and start a life away from the place where she’d been born and raised. If her father and siblings had it their way, she’d still be there, making the same rounds with the same group of people she’d known since kindergarten.
Earning her diploma had opened a whole new world to Josselyn, where fresh faces and exciting opportunities waited around each corner. Ignoring her family’s argument to remain near Laramie, she’d begun searching for jobs in neighboring Montana. Once she’d landed the library position at Rust Creek Falls Elementary, she’d turned her focus to finding a place to live. Somewhere far away from concrete and busy streets.
The moment she’d spotted an article somewhere about Sunshine Farm located near Rust Creek Falls, she’d been instantly intrigued. The piece had been about Amy Wainwright and how the woman had visited the farm to attend the wedding of a friend and eventually ended up finding her own true love, prompting the journalist to dub the farm the Lonelyhearts Ranch.
The story of Amy’s happy ending had perfectly fit Josselyn’s sunny attitude about life. Sunshine Farm was a place where loving couples chose to take their wedding vows, plus it had a guesthouse for folks who wanted to forget the past and make a fresh start. Josselyn wasn’t running from a heartbreaking past. Nor was she planning a wedding for herself. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, much less a fiancé. All the same, Sunshine Farm, or the Lonelyhearts Ranch, whichever name a person chose to call it, was the perfect home for her.
Thoughtfully, she turned away from the window and plucked up a white shawl from the back of a chair. After being in a crowd of people all afternoon, the quietness of her cabin should have been soothing. Instead, it was allowing her to think far too much.
With the shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward off the evening chill, she went outside and walked across a grassy slope, past a big yellow barn and on toward the main house of Sunshine Farm.
A porch light illuminated a door at the back of the house. After rapping her knuckles lightly on the door frame, Josselyn let herself in and found Eva Stockton at the counter putting a snack of homemade cookies and mugs of coffee onto a wooden tray.
The room was warm and Josselyn caught the faint, lingering scents of grilled beef and green peppers. With Eva cooking hearty meals every night for her husband, Luke, it came as no surprise that the kitchen was one of the first rooms the man had remodeled in the old farmhouse.
“Oh, hi, Josselyn,” the pretty blonde said cheerfully. “You’re just in time to join us in the living room. The cookies are chocolate chip with macadamia nuts. They’re rather good, even if I did make them.”
Since Eva worked at Daisy’s Donut Shop in town and was considered one of the best cooks around, Josselyn had no doubt the cookies were scrumptious. “Please don’t tempt me, Eva. A person can’t eat just one of your desserts. And I stuffed myself at the school picnic today.”
“Well, if you’d like coffee just help yourself,” Eva offered.
“Actually, I thought I’d check in on Mikayla,” Josselyn said. “Is she in her room?”
“I think so. And I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. With little Hazel still in NICU, she can’t help but be a bit mopey.”
Josselyn gave Eva an understanding nod. “Having a premature baby can’t be easy. I’ll take her some coffee and see if I can cheer her up a bit.”
Picking up the tray, Eva shot her a grateful smile as she started out of the kitchen. “I knew the first moment I met you that you were going to be a perfect boarder here at Sunshine Farm.”
Josselyn laughed lightly. “How could you have known that?”
“Something about the kind twinkle in your eyes,” she tossed over her shoulder.
With Eva gone, Josselyn helped herself to the coffee. Once she’d placed two mugs on a tray, she decided to add a couple of cookies, just in case Mikayla might be hungry for a treat.
Carefully, she carried the lot upstairs and knocked on the door to Mikayla Brown’s room. After a moment, the door swung open and Josselyn gave the other woman a cheerful smile.
“Room service,” she announced. “Coffee and cookies. Want some company?”
With a lopsided smile, the pretty brunette gestured for Josselyn to enter the room. “You’re too sweet. How did you guess I needed a pick-me-up?”
Josselyn put on her cheeriest smile and hoped it would rub off on her friend. “I didn’t. I’m really just being selfish. I needed a little company.”
She carried the tray over to the far wall of the room, where a rocking chair and a stuffed armchair sat at an angle to each other in front of a tall-paned window. Situated between the chairs, a low wooden table held a small old-fashioned lamp with a glass globe.
Josselyn placed the tray next to the lamp. When she straightened, Mikayla was there to give her a brief hug.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I only got home from the hospital an hour ago and I’m already wishing I was back there. I need something to take my mind off Hazel.”
“Then we both needed company,” Josselyn said. “Which chair do you want?”
“I’ll take the armchair,” Mikayla told her. “Being in the rocker makes my arms ache to hold my baby. I’ve decided I’m not going to sit in it until she comes home from the hospital.”
Josselyn eased into the wooden rocking chair with a red cushion tied to the seat. “I understand why you want to stay at the hospital to be near your baby, but you do need to rest, Mikayla. You need to recuperate, too, so you’ll be feeling your best whenever Hazel does get to come home.”
“That’s what the nurses keep telling me. That I need to give my body a chance to bounce back from giving birth. But it’s very hard to leave my daughter. Even long enough to get a night’s sleep.”
Josselyn could hear the desperate longing in Mikayla’s voice, and though she didn’t yet know what it was like to have a child of her own, she could very well imagine how torn her friend was feeling.
“Do you have any idea when Hazel might be released from the hospital?” Josselyn asked.
Taking a seat in the armchair, Mikayla took one of the mugs and a cookie from the tray. “Thank God, she’s doing really well. Her doctor says she might get to come home at the beginning of next week. I’m afraid if I start counting the days I’ll jinx things. But I’m so excited.”
Mikayla had come to Sunshine Farm seven months pregnant and single, after she’d discovered the father of her child having sex with his paralegal right in his office. However, since then, Mikayla’s life had taken several drastic turns. Only last month, she’d met wealthy businessman Jensen Jones and the two had fallen in love. Then unexpectedly she’d gone into premature labor.
Josselyn picked up the remaining coffee mug and took a cautious sip. “That’s wonderful news, Mikayla. And it sounds like we’ll be hearing wedding bells pretty soon, too.”
Mikayla sighed. “As soon as we can have Hazel safely with us at the ceremony. Jensen and I are waiting to see how things go with the baby before we set a definite date for our wedding. But we’re hoping we don’t have to wait too long. For now, he’s searching high and low for the perfect house for the three of us to move into.” Her smile full of love, she added, “Jensen wants me and our baby to have the best.”
“Of course he does. And I’m so happy for you, Mikayla. You and Jensen and little Hazel are going to have a wonderful life together. And you certainly deserve it.”
“Well, things were going pretty awful there for a while,” she admitted, then, smiling wistfully, she glanced toward the lace-covered window. “But coming here to Sunshine Farm has changed all that. I’m beginning to see why folks are starting to call it the Lonelyhearts Ranch. Something about people finding love in Rust Creek Falls has spilled over onto this place.” She slanted Josselyn a sly glance. “So are you going to be next on the wedding planner’s list?”
Josselyn laughed. “Really, Mikayla. You know I haven’t even been on a date since I moved here. Well, maybe one if you count the lunch I had with the sixth-grade history teacher.”
“By the way, you never mentioned how things went that day.”
Josselyn shook her head. “I wish I could say the guy made my heart flutter. Instead, I struggled to keep from yawning. Raymond is nice enough, but he’s about as dull as the paint on my little car. And that’s pretty dull.”
Mikayla chuckled. “Never fear. You’re working in Rust Creek Falls now—where love is in the air, or the water, or something. I’m positive that you’re going to meet a handsome guy that will sweep you off your feet before you ever realize what’s happening.”
Josselyn sipped her coffee while the image of Drew Strickland paraded through her mind. “I’m not really hunting for a man to love, Mikayla. If it happens, that would be nice. But I’m not sitting around pining over the fact that I’m twenty-five and still single.” She looked thoughtfully over at her friend. “Actually, I did meet a really cute guy today. At the school picnic.”
Her interest piqued, Mikayla leaned forward in the chair. “Oh, now this is the kind of news I want to hear. Tell me. Is he someone new in town?”
“That’s the impression I got. He said he was here on a temporary basis. I haven’t seen him around Rust Creek Falls before today. And believe me, Mikayla, he’s the type that a woman doesn’t forget. But I was thinking you might know something about the man.”
Mikayla’s brown eyes widened. “Me? How would I know? I’ve not exactly been a social butterfly since I moved here.”
“He’s an obstetrician,” Josselyn explained. “Dr. Drew Strickland. I thought you might have seen him around the clinic.”
A clever smile suddenly spread across Mikayla’s face. “I’ve seen Dr. Strickland more than you can imagine. He was the doctor who attended me that night I went into premature labor.”
The information shouldn’t have surprised her. Rust Creek Falls was a small place. It wasn’t like there was an abundance of obstetricians around. “You mean he delivered baby Hazel?”
Mikayla nodded. “I have to admit he’s a terrific doctor. Very caring, serious and thorough. Although, his bedside manner could be a bit better.”
“Grumpy, huh?”
“No. Actually, he was very kind. It’s just that he keeps his conversations to the minimum and as best as I remember, he never cracked a smile. But to be fair, he wasn’t exactly dealing with an easy situation when he delivered Hazel.”
Somehow Mikayla’s observation about the man didn’t surprise Josselyn. Drew Strickland had seemed only too eager to let his son do all the talking. Until the boy had started chattering about finding his dad a wife. Then the man had seemed to be totally embarrassed and even a bit angry. Why he’d reacted in such a way Josselyn could only guess.
“No,” Josselyn agreed. “I don’t suppose either of you had reason to smile during that stressful situation.”
“So what was Dr. Strickland doing at the back-to-school picnic?” Mikayla asked. “Or did you actually talk to the man?”
“We talked. Briefly. After his son walked up and introduced himself and his father.”
It was Mikayla’s turn to look surprised. “The doctor has a son?”
Josselyn nodded. “He’s seven and in the second grade. And cute as a button, I might add.”
“Eva told me a little about his family,” Mikayla replied. “But she didn’t mention a son. And I haven’t heard anyone around the clinic mention Dr. Strickland having a child.”
“Hmm. That’s odd. You would think one of the nurses would have said something,” Josselyn mused aloud. “Do you know anything else about the man? I keep wondering about the boy’s mother. She wasn’t with them.”
Mikayla broke off a piece of cookie and popped it into her mouth. Once she’d chewed and swallowed, she said, “Could be the woman was at the picnic—talking to someone else at the time.”
Josselyn shook her head. “That’s possible. Except that Dillon let it slip that he’s trying to find his dad a wife.”
“Awww. Poor little tyke. He must be wanting a mother something fierce.”
Just thinking about the eager way little Dillon had been gazing up at Josselyn sent a pang right through her heart. There had been a real look of longing on the child’s face. One that she hadn’t understood completely until this moment.
“I think you must be right, Mikayla. Maybe...maybe he doesn’t have a mother at all.”
“Sounds to me like the good doctor is either divorced or widowed.”
Widowed. Drew had looked to be in his thirties. At that age, she’d not considered the possibility that he might have lost his wife. But that could definitely explain the lost look she’d noticed in his eyes.
“If you’re wondering about Dr. Strickland’s marital status then you must be interested in the man,” Mikayla remarked.
Clutching her mug with both hands, Josselyn stared into the brown liquid while a blush crept into her cheeks.
“I guess you could say I’m a little interested,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. “After all, the guy is definitely dreamy looking. His son is such a sweet boy—he must be a good dad. Wouldn’t you think?”
“I’ve heard nothing but raves about his services as a physician, but as for his private life, I wouldn’t know. Maybe you should find that out for yourself,” Mikayla suggested impishly.
Josselyn sighed. “I doubt I’ll ever run into Dr. Strickland again. Besides, it was obvious he wasn’t the least bit interested in me.”
“Hmm. How could you tell?”
Josselyn let out a cynical grunt. “As soon as his son mentioned the word wife, he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. And since I never spotted the two of them again, I assume Dr. Strickland must have left the park and taken his son home.”
“I wouldn’t take his sudden disappearance personally,” Mikayla told her. “The man was probably embarrassed that his son said such a thing to you.”
“Now that you mention it, his face did turn a little red,” Josselyn murmured.
“Well, just in case you might actually be interested, I do know that he lives at Strickland’s Boarding House. Old Gene and Melba are his grandparents.”
“Oh. I hadn’t made the connection to the boardinghouse,” Josselyn said. “Do you know if he has any other relatives around Rust Creek Falls?”
“Three cousins, all of them sisters. Claire, Tessa and Hadley. Claire is married to Levi Wyatt and I believe they have a little girl, Bekka. She goes to the day care here in town. Claire cooks for the boardinghouse. Tessa is a graphic designer. She’s married to Carson Drake and they have twins. Hadley is a veterinarian who’s married to Eli Dalton. As far as I know they don’t have any children yet.”
“Hmm. I wonder about his parents or if he has siblings.” She felt her cheeks growing even hotter as Mikayla continued to study her closely. “Forget I said that. Something is wrong with me tonight, Mikayla. I’m saying and thinking things that are completely off the wall. Maybe I need something to eat to get my brain back on track.”
Laughing softly, Mikayla gestured to the other cookie still lying on the tray. “A little sugar should make you forget all about the sexy doctor.”
Josselyn reached for the cookie, but as she bit into the scrumptious treat, she had an uneasy feeling that it was going to be a long time before she managed to push Drew Strickland and his son out of her mind.
Chapter Three (#u7ae3c451-07a2-5598-b400-1c48679f6046)
Early Monday morning while he waited for Dillon to dress for school, Drew sat at the kitchen table in the boardinghouse, eating the last of his breakfast of toast, bacon and dark black coffee.
Most of the other boarders chose to take their meals in the dining room of the old four-story house, but Drew liked his privacy. Gossiping back and forth across the table wasn’t his thing. And to make matters even more uncomfortable, as soon as the tenants had learned he was a doctor, he was constantly approached for free medical advice.
Dillon, on the other hand, relished sitting around the big dining table and listening in on the conversations. It was no wonder the boy was seven years old going on fifteen, Drew thought wryly. And he could only imagine what Josselyn Weaver had thought when Dillon had blurted out that bit about finding his dad a wife. A full day had passed since the picnic, but the memory of the incident still left Drew smarting.
That afternoon, throughout the short walk from the park back to the boardinghouse, Drew had tried to lecture his son on the right and wrong things to say to a lady. And though Dillon had attempted to show a little remorse at his behavior, it was obvious to Drew that his son wasn’t a bit sorry for all his bold talk.
“Do I hear a sigh over there? Is something wrong with your breakfast?”
Drew glanced over at his cousin Claire, who was busy flipping pancakes on an industrial-sized grill.
“No. Everything tastes great, as usual. Thanks, Claire.”
“Well, you sound like something is wrong. Work getting you down?”
“I love my work. I’m even busier than I thought I would be here in this little town.”
The pretty brunette slipped the browned pancakes onto a warmed plate. “Guess Rust Creek Falls does feel tiny to you after living in Thunder Canyon,” she commented. “You must be missing your parents and your brothers.”
Drew had to admit he’d missed his parents an awful lot when he’d first arrived here in Rust Creek Falls. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d depended on them to keep Dillon corralled until he’d been forced to take on the job by himself. As for his brothers, all four were younger than Drew. Billy and LJ were both ranchers like their father, while Benjamin was a doctor. Trey managed the horse stables at Thunder Canyon Resort. All of them worked long hours, which made it difficult for the brothers to spend much time together.
“I do miss my family,” Drew replied. “To tell you the truth, Claire, I didn’t think I was going to like living in Rust Creek Falls. But the town and the people have grown on me.”
“That’s good. From what I see, Dillon has fallen in love with the place. You might have a hard time getting him to move back to Thunder Canyon.”
“I suppose I should be happy that Dillon’s gotten so close to his great-grandfather. At least he’s not sitting around crying to go home.”
Claire walked over to where he was sitting and looked down at him. “I hear something else in your voice, Drew. Do you resent the fact that Dillon has grown so close to Old Gene?”
Tossing his napkin onto his empty plate, he picked up his coffee cup. “No. I might be a little envious, but I don’t resent it. I suppose what you’re hearing in my voice is a father wondering if he’s raising his son right.”
An understanding smile on her face, Claire walked back over to the stove. “There isn’t a parent alive who doesn’t have doubts about being a good mom or dad. Where Bekka is concerned, I question myself every day.”
That was just normal parenting, Drew thought ruefully. Claire had always been a full-time, hands-on mother. Whereas he’d basically turned his twelve-month-old son over to his parents and asked them to care for the baby. At the time, he’d felt it was the only thing for him to do. Losing Evelyn had jerked the ground from beneath his feet. He could barely function or take care of himself, much less a baby who needed endless attention. Not to mention that every time he’d looked at Dillon’s little face, he’d been consumed with loss and self-blame over his wife’s senseless death.
“You don’t understand, Claire. When Evelyn died—well, I was a pretty worthless human being.”
She frowned at him. “That’s an awful thing to say about yourself, Drew. You were in shock. Anybody in your shoes would’ve been. Evelyn’s car accident was something that rarely happens. A tree toppling onto her car as she drove little Dillon to day care—it was freakish. Nothing about it made sense. I’m sure it will never make sense to you.”
Drew bit back a sigh. He didn’t like talking about Evelyn’s accident. Didn’t like remembering that it had been his turn to drive Dillon to day care that morning. Instead, Evelyn had offered to do it for him and as a result she’d lost her life. It was a fact that would always haunt him and, though six long years had passed, Drew was still living the nightmare.
“No. It doesn’t make sense,” he agreed. “To be honest, I’m still damned angry about the senselessness of it all. And I’m angry at myself for not realizing that those early years of my son’s life were the very time I needed to form a bond with him. Not now—six years later.”
Claire cast him a gentle glance. “You’re a good father, Drew. You just don’t realize it yet.”
He rose and carried his dirty plate and cup over to a big double sink.
“Something I do realize, Claire, is that you’re a good cousin,” he told her, doing his best to give her a smile. “Now I’d better get upstairs to see what’s keeping Dillon. Don’t let Grandma work you too hard today.”
Claire laughed. “I’ll take a break while she’s not looking.”
* * *
Later that morning, Josselyn was putting a stack of returned books back on their proper shelves when a group of second-grade students trooped into the library. The normally quiet room instantly came to life with the sound of tapping feet and voices that were several decibels above hushed.
“Hi, Miss Weaver. Remember me?”
Turning, she was more than surprised to see little Dillon Strickland grinning up at her. Since school had started over a week ago, this was the first time she’d seen the boy in the library.
Smiling back at him, she said, “Sure I remember you. You’re Dillon Strickland.”
His brown eyes sparkled and Josselyn couldn’t help thinking how the boy’s features resembled his father’s.
“And my dad is Drew. Remember him?”
That was something she hadn’t been able to forget, Josselyn thought wryly. Throughout the weekend, the man and his son had drifted in and out of her thoughts.
“Yes, I remember. Your dad is Dr. Strickland,” she said, and, deciding it was time to get on with school matters, left it at that. “I’m happy to see you in the library, Dillon. I believe this is your first visit since school started.”
His eyes wide, he glanced around the rows of bookshelves, and as Josselyn studied the expression on his face, she got the impression he was seeing the library for the very first time.
He swiped at the dark hair hanging near one eye. “Uh—yeah. I’ve already read all my books at home. So I wanted to get some more. Reading is fun. Real fun.”
Josselyn smiled to herself. “I’m glad you think so. What kind of books were you looking for today? Maybe I can help you find something.”
“Oh, I like all kinds.” With a look of bemusement, he peered up and down the aisle. “Do you have books about fish? I like fishing. Me and my grandpa go to the river and catch trout.”
Grandpa. Mikayla had mentioned that Old Gene and Melba Strickland were Drew’s grandparents. Could this child be referring to Old Gene, or did Drew or his ex-wife have parents living in or around Rust Creek Falls?
Josselyn was telling herself that Drew Strickland’s private life was none of her business when Dillon suddenly interrupted her thoughts.
“I should have said great-grandpa.” He spoke again. “My grandpa Jerry doesn’t live here. He lives in Thunder Canyon with Grandma. Old Gene lives here.”
“Old Gene is your great-grandpa?”
Another wide smile dimpled Dillon’s cheeks. “Yeah. But I call him Gramps. Bet you know him, don’t you? Everybody knows Old Gene. He has lots of friends.”
“No. I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never had the opportunity to meet him,” she said, trying to follow his conversation while a girl with brown braids stood a few steps away, waving frantically to attract Josselyn’s attention. “Now we’d better see about finding you a fishing book. Follow me, Dillon, and I’ll show you.”
“Miss Weaver, I need help, too!” the young girl wailed.
“I’ll be right back, Chrissy,” she assured her. “You might want to look at the new-arrival section until it’s your turn.”
Clearly disappointed, the girl gave Dillon a glare before she stomped off in the opposite direction.
“Chrissy needs to learn her manners,” Dillon muttered.
Josselyn certainly agreed, especially since it wasn’t the first time the girl had tried to push her way to the front of the line.
“Or maybe she don’t understand,” Dillon said with a shrug of one shoulder. “Maybe she don’t have a mother. Like me.”
The boy’s empathetic remark made Josselyn desperately want to stop in the middle of the aisle and hug him tight. It also had her mind whirling with even more questions about Drew Strickland. But now wasn’t the time or place to talk to the boy about personal matters. And even if they had been somewhere other than school, Josselyn certainly wasn’t about to pump the child for information.
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, Dillon. She’ll get her turn. Right now, let’s find you a fishing book. Maybe one with a grandpa in it. How would that be?”
He grinned up at her. “Oh, that would be super! I’ll read every word, Miss Weaver.”
* * *
“Looks like school is rubbing off on little Dillon,” Melba commented, as she eased her frame into an armchair.
Drew lowered the medical journal he’d been reading to look at his grandmother, who’d finally found the time to sit down. Since he and Dillon had come to live at the boardinghouse, he’d learned one thing. His grandparents were always busy and appeared to have the energy of a pair of teenagers. Where they found such get-up-and-go Drew could only wonder.
“What are you talking about?” Drew asked her.
The gray-haired woman inclined her head to a spot on the opposite side of the sitting room. Drew glanced over his shoulder to see Dillon cozied up to his great-grandfather. The boy was holding an open book in his lap and appeared to be reading the story to Old Gene.
“I never noticed Dillon liking books before. Did he do a lot of reading back in Thunder Canyon?” Melba asked.
Drew should’ve been encouraged to see his son take an interest in reading. Books opened up a whole new world to a child and generally made them better students. Yet he couldn’t deny that it hurt to see Dillon happily reading to his great-grandfather. Drew had been here in his grandparents’ living room for the past half hour, but instead of sitting on the couch, close to his father, Dillon had chosen to ignore him.
The move from Thunder Canyon to Rust Creek Falls was supposed to have drawn Drew and Dillon closer together. At least, that’s what Drew’s parents had believed. Jerry and Barbara had certainly used that particular argument to persuade their son to take the temporary job at the clinic. But as far as Drew could see, his parents had been wrong. The move had actually pushed Dillon closer to his gramps.
“I think reading is something new for Dillon,” Drew said to Melba, while telling himself he was being childish to resent his son’s relationship with Old Gene. The two of them were good for each other and that was the most important thing.
Melba pulled a piece of knitting from a sewing basket sitting next to her chair. “That’s good. Maybe he’ll decide he wants to be a doctor someday. Like his dad and uncle Ben.”
A cynical grunt erupted from Drew. Dillon never talked about wanting to become a doctor, or even be like his father. “I seriously doubt Dillon will want to go into the medical field, Grandma. He thinks being a horseman like his uncle Trey or a rancher like his grandpa Jerry would be more fun.”
Focused on her knitting stitches, Melba smiled knowingly. “Nothing wrong with that. Most little boys like the idea of being outdoors and living the rough, tough life of a cowboy. But give him a few years. He might set his sights on something altogether different. Like a businessman or a lawyer.”
During the first year of Dillon’s life, Evelyn had often talked about their son’s future and the dreams she had for him. She’d always summed up her wishes in one word. Happy. That was the main thing she’d wanted for Dillon. To live a full and happy life. Since her death, Drew had fallen short in the dad department. But he was determined to change. To make certain Evelyn’s vision of their son’s future came true.
“Sometimes I wonder, Grandma, if becoming a doctor was the wrong path for me. I was raised a rancher—a cowboy. Things might have been better if I’d never left that life.”
Frowning, Melba lowered her knitting and studied him over the rim of her reading glasses. “How could you think such a thing, Drew? You studied so long and hard. Babies are a family’s hopes and dreams and you help them come true by seeing those new little lives safely enter the world. It’s an admirable profession.”
Along with all consuming, Drew thought ruefully. Even now, as he sat quietly here in his grandparents’ living room, his evening could change in a split second with an emergency call. Babies didn’t wait for a convenient time to arrive.
“Yes, but I might still—”
He stopped abruptly and Melba’s keen eyes were once again studying him closely. “Might what? Still have Evelyn? Is that what you were going to say?”
Drew silently cursed, knowing the perceptive woman was going to hound him until she got an answer.
Claire had started in on him this morning and now his grandmother this evening. Both women ought to know he didn’t want to talk about his late wife. Anyone in his family should understand that just speaking her name was like swallowing shards of broken glass. Yet they had to bring up the whole tragedy, as if talking about it was going to make all the pain and loss go away. Damn it, why couldn’t they see that nothing was going to make things better for him?
Releasing a heavy breath, he closed the journal and laid it aside. “Something like that.”
Melba’s lips thinned to a disapproving line. “You’re thinking like a fool, Drew.”
He couldn’t help but bristle at her unkindly observation. “Am I? Well, it was an emergency medical call that sent me to work instead of taking my son to day care. It was my job that put Evelyn in that car. If I’d been working on Dad’s ranch, the accident would’ve never happened.”
“You think so, huh? Well, I don’t.” She leveled a pointed gaze at him. “Things in our life happen for a reason, Drew. Until you realize that and accept it, you’re never going to be happy.”
Happy. That was a condition Drew never expected to experience again, he thought bitterly. His happiness had died beneath that oak tree.
He was trying to gather the words for a reply when a buzzer sounded, alerting his grandparents that someone was at the office at the back of the boardinghouse.
Frowning, Melba glanced at the clock on the wall. “Now, who could that be at this hour? All the boarders are paid up.”
“Could be a new tenant, Ma.” Old Gene spoke from his spot on the window seat.
Sighing, Melba laid her knitting aside and rose from the comfortable armchair. “I’ll go see.”
“I’ll go with you,” her husband said.
She started out of the room. “No need for that. We have a vacancy. I’ll take care of the registry.”
“Just the same, I’m going with you,” Old Gene insisted, as he left his seat next to Dillon and joined her at the door.
“But, Gramps, I haven’t finished the story yet!” Dillon complained.
Old Gene cocked a bushy eyebrow at his great-grandson. “You read the rest of it to your dad.”
Dillon scowled. “But he don’t like fishin’!”
“He might if you give him a chance,” Old Gene said as he followed his wife out the door.
Dillon stared sulkily at the floor, a reaction that surprised Drew. It wasn’t like his son to be crabby.
“Bring your book over here, son,” Drew invited.
His bottom lip pushed petulantly forward, Dillon snapped the book shut. “I don’t want to read anymore,” he muttered.
Drew contained a weary sigh. “Okay. But come here anyway. I want to talk to you.”
Dillon jammed the book beneath his arm and walked over to the couch. “Am I in trouble?”
Was he really so miserable of a father that Dillon thought the only time his father wanted to talk to him was when he needed to be disciplined? The idea was one more heavy weight on Drew’s shoulders.
“No.” He patted the cushion next to him. “Do you think you’ve done something wrong?”
Dillon climbed onto the couch and scooted backward until his athletic shoes were dangling off the edge of the seat.
“No,” he mumbled. “But I guess I wasn’t talking very nice to Gramps just now.”
“Well, you could have been more understanding,” Drew gently agreed. “Gramps has work he has to do.”
Dillon’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Not like you, Dad. You work all the time.”
He might as well have been kicking him in the shins, Drew thought. It wouldn’t have been any more painful.
“I’m not working now,” Drew said pointedly. “So show me your book.”
Relenting, Dillon placed the book flat on his lap. “See. It’s about a boy who catches a great big fish, but nobody will believe him.”
“Why not? Doesn’t he show the fish to everyone?”
Dillon shook his head. “He can’t. While the boy wasn’t looking, a raccoon snuck up and stole the fish. Nobody believes that, either.”
“Sounds like this guy has a big problem.”
Dillon’s chin bobbed up and down. “He’s pretty sad right now. I hope he gets happy by the end of the book.”
“I do, too. Being sad isn’t any fun.” Drew gestured toward the book. “Did you get the book at school or does it belong to the little boy who lives downstairs with his mother?”
Frowning, Dillon glanced up at him. “You mean Robbie? No. He can’t read very good. He’s got something wrong with his eyes and he sees things funny.”
From the few times Drew had spotted the little boy around the boardinghouse, he would guess him to be about the same age as Dillon and extremely shy. Most of the time he’d remained half-hidden behind his mother, a thin, harried-looking young woman. “How do you know this?”
“’Cause Robbie told me so. He has to take extra lessons to read better.”
Leave it to Dillon to know more about their neighbors than him, Drew thought. His son did get around.
“I got the book about fishin’ at the library at school. Miss Weaver helped me pick it out.”
Miss Weaver. Drew had pretty much pushed the brief meeting with the woman out of his thoughts. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself. But the images of her gentle smile and soft green eyes were still dancing through his mind, reminding him that he was a long way from forgetting.
“Miss Weaver—the lady we met at the picnic,” Drew stated more than questioned.
Dillon’s sulky demeanor suddenly vanished with a bright smile. “That’s right. The really pretty one! She’s super nice, Dad. And she knows all about books.”
Drew started to explain that Miss Weaver knew all about books because that was her job, but he quickly nixed that thought before he spoke. Dillon was a child. Hard facts weren’t what he needed to hear.
“I’m glad she was so helpful. Uh...you didn’t say anything about me to her, did you?”
Dillon’s smile faded, but didn’t quite disappear. “No. There was too many kids around. Besides, I figure she was thinking about you anyway.”
Over the years, Drew had learned to expect the unexpected from Dillon, but this was one time his son’s remark took him aback. “Why would you have that idea, Dillon? The woman doesn’t even know me.”
“Sure, she does. She met me and you at the park. So when she seen me in the library, that made her think of you. It’s simple, Dad.”
Simple. There was nothing uncomplicated about this quest of Dillon’s to find his father a wife. And what had gotten into his son, anyway? Even though Dillon’s mother was gone, the boy still had plenty of mothering from Drew’s mom and grandmother. It wasn’t like he’d grown up in an all-male household and was starved for maternal attention.
“Well, simple or not,” Drew told him, “I don’t want you going around talking about finding me a wife. Not to strange women. Not to anyone. Can you promise me that?”
As Drew watched his son’s mouth fall open, he expected to hear a loud protest. Instead, Dillon said, “Okay, Dad. I promise.”
Drew patted his knee. “Good, boy. Now, about this fishing book. You know, what you told Gramps about me not liking to fish was wrong.”
Dillon’s face was a picture of surprise. “It was? I never seen you go fishing before.”
“Well, it has been a while,” Drew conceded. About eight years, he thought ruefully. “I used to take your mother fishing back in Thunder Canyon. There was a big stream on the family ranch with lots of trout. And after we caught a bunch, we took them home and had a fish dinner.”
“Golly, that sounds like fun. Why don’t you do that now, Dad?”
Yes, why didn’t he?
Because Evelyn is gone. Because going without her wouldn’t be the same. You’ve used that excuse for the past six years of your life, Drew. When are you going to throw it away and start enjoying these precious years with your son, instead of clinging to a memory?
Torn by the reproachful voice in his head, Drew stared at the window on the opposite side of the room. Oh how he wished he could open the paned glass and let all the painful memories in his heart fly away. Never to torment him again.
“Dad? Why don’t you go fishing now?”
Dillon’s repeated question pulled Drew out of his wistful reverie and as he looked down at his son, he did his best to ignore the guilt pressing down on his shoulders.
“I’ll tell you what, Dillon, if you’ll finish reading your book to me, I’ll promise to take you fishing.”
Dillon eyed him skeptically. “You really will take me? You’re not going to say you have to work?”
Dear God, he had a long ways to go to prove himself as a father, Drew thought. “I’m not just saying it.” To underscore his words, Drew made an x across his heart. “I really promise.”
“Okay, Dad! We got a deal!”
Dillon raised his hand for a high five and as Drew gently slapped his palm against his son’s, a small sense of triumph rushed through him.
* * *
By the time Friday arrived, Josselyn decided that where little Dillon Strickland was concerned, something was amiss. So far the boy had visited the library every day this week, at times during periods when he should have been on the playground running and playing with his friends.
Not wanting to get the boy in trouble, Josselyn hadn’t spoken to his teachers about his unusual behavior. After all, fretting over a child’s visits to the library sounded ridiculous. Even to Josselyn. But Dillon was checking out more books than a normal child his age could read in a month. And each time she questioned him about the books, he evaded answering by steering the conversation back to the fishing story.
Clearly he’d read that book. He even talked about how he was going to be like the hero and catch the biggest fish in Rust Creek Falls. But she’d make a bet that the other books had never been opened.
Josselyn stared at the small sticky note lying on her desk. The telephone number scratched across it was the contact number Drew Strickland had provided to the school.
She glanced at the large clock hanging on a far wall of the library room. The man was a doctor. She didn’t like the idea of interrupting his work. But it was nearing the lunch hour. Hopefully he’d already dealt with most of the morning patients.
Drawing in a bracing breath, Josselyn punched in the numbers, and as the ring sounded in her ear, she wondered why her heart was beating a mile a minute. This was nothing but a school-parent call and Drew Strickland was little more than a stranger.
“Dr. Strickland here.”
As soon as the rich, male voice came back at her, Josselyn’s pent-up breath rushed out of her.
“Hello, Doctor. This is Josselyn Weaver, the librarian at Rust Creek Falls Elementary. We met at the school picnic.”
After a short pause, he said, “Yes, I remember. How are you, Miss Weaver?”
A physician would be asking about her well-being, she thought. “I’m good, thank you. I—uh—apologize for calling you at work. Do you have a minute or two? I promise this won’t take long.”
“You’ve called at the right time. My nurse is having lunch, so I have a short break. Is there something I can do for you?”
Her mouth suddenly turned as dry as Death Valley in mid-July. “Actually, I’m calling about your son, Dillon. I’ve been seeing quite a bit of him in the library.”
“That’s encouraging. Maybe he’ll develop a love of reading.”
For no sensible reason at all, she was suddenly picturing the shape of Drew Strickland’s strong lips and the deep dimples carved into his cheeks. Just the thought of kissing him was enough to make her breath catch in her throat.
“Yes. I’m hoping that happens, too.”
He must have heard something amiss in her voice because he suddenly asked, “Are you calling because Dillon has been acting unruly? If so, I’m not surprised. I’m fairly sure he’s not yet learned that a library is a place for silence.”
In other words, Dr. Strickland hadn’t visited a library with his son before, she concluded. But that wasn’t all that unusual. Some men’s reading habits never went beyond the newspaper or an occasional magazine.
She said, “Students are taught the rules of etiquette by their teachers before they visit the library. Besides, Dillon hasn’t been unruly. He’s—well, he’s coming in every day and checking out an unreasonable amount of books. When I questioned him, he says he’s reading all of them. Is that what you’re seeing at home?”
This time there was a long pause before he answered.
“I’m not exactly sure. I’m in and out of the boardinghouse so much answering emergency calls. Dillon could be reading when I’m not around.”
Which could be most of the time. She was beginning to get the picture now. Apparently Dillon needed more than a mother. He needed his father’s undivided time and attention. But she wasn’t about to point that out to the man. His idea of proper parenting was his business. Not hers.
“Oh. I see.”
Silent seconds passed before he spoke again. “Tell me, Miss Weaver, do you think my son has a problem?”
She wasn’t certain about Dillon’s problem, but she realized she had one of her own. He was tall, dark haired and sexy enough to curl a woman’s toes. Just the sound of his deep male voice was making her skin prickle with awareness.
“I’m not sure. I just know he’s spending an inordinate amount of time in the library.”
“This deduction is coming from a librarian?”
Josselyn bristled. No matter if the man was a walking dream, she didn’t deserve or appreciate his sarcasm. “Yes. And you can do what you like with the information. As a part of the school staff, I thought you should be alerted to your son’s behavior. Thank you for your time, Dr. Strickland. Goodbye.”
She hung up the phone, then, realizing she was shaking, rose and walked over to a window that overlooked the school playground. Except for a few yellow cottonwood leaves rolling across the dormant lawn, the area was quiet. But as soon as lunch was over, the area would be full of children, most of them laughing and playing. Would Dillon be among them? Or would he choose, as he had yesterday, to come into the library and talk to her, rather than play with his friends?
Josselyn hadn’t bothered telling Dr. Drew Strickland that bit of information. Not when he’d seemed to be dismissing her concern about Dillon as much ado about nothing.
Maybe she doesn’t have a mother. Like me.
The boy’s remark was still haunting Josselyn. Almost as much as the sad shadows she’d spotted in Drew Strickland’s gorgeous brown eyes.
Chapter Four (#u7ae3c451-07a2-5598-b400-1c48679f6046)
Monday afternoon, thirty minutes before it was time to pick up Dillon from school, Drew was kindly escorted to the library by a teacher’s aide.
“No need to knock,” the dark-haired woman told him. “Miss Weaver is still here. She never leaves until long after the last bell rings.”
“Thanks.”
The woman went on her way and, taking a deep breath, Drew opened the door and stepped inside the world where his son had been spending an inordinate amount of time. Or so Miss Weaver had said.
Throughout the weekend, he’d thought about her call. The words she’d said and the way she’d said them had stuck in him like thorns of a briar branch. His son wasn’t getting the attention he needed at home. At least, not the right kind. She’d not uttered those exact words, but the tone in her voice had been clear, and that bothered Drew. Bothered the hell right out of him.
At first glance, he spotted a large oak desk situated close to a window. At the moment it was empty, and as he walked slowly toward it, he glanced between the tall shelves jammed with books. The aide had said Miss Weaver was still here, but the long room was as silent as a tomb.
And then he heard faint footsteps moving across the hardwood floor. Pausing, he turned toward the sound and waited for her to appear from the maze of bookshelves. When he did finally catch sight of her, his breath caught in his throat.
Miss Weaver had looked fresh and young and pretty at the picnic. Today she appeared totally different. From the bright red skirt that hugged her hips to the white blouse tucked in at her slender waist, she looked all-woman.
“Oh,” she said, as she looked up to see him standing at the end of the aisle. “I thought I’d heard footsteps. I expected to find one of the students.”
Drew waited for her to walk to him. All the while his gaze was taking in all sorts of little things about her. Like the fuchsia color on her lips, the black high heels on her feet and the way her blond hair curled against her shoulders. No wonder his son was spending so much time in here, Drew thought. Dillon probably saw this woman as some sort of enchanting princess.
“One of the aides escorted me here to the library,” he told her. “I...uh, hope I’m not here at a bad time. I thought I might talk to you for a few minutes before school lets out and I have to pick up Dillon.”
He could tell by the way she was sizing him up that she was surprised to see him. He could’ve told her he was just as surprised to find himself here.
“Of course,” she said. “Would you like to have a seat?”
“I would. Thanks.”
He followed her over to the front of the desk and eased onto one of two heavy wooden chairs angled to one side. He was expecting her to take a seat in the executive chair behind the desk, but instead she sat directly across from him.
Drew tried not to notice as she crossed her long legs and adjusted the hem of her skirt. But he did notice, and the fact irritated him. His job required him to look at the female anatomy all day long. He saw all shapes and sizes of women, ranging in age from the very young to the very old. The only thing that ever caught his attention was when he spotted a health problem. Otherwise, he was totally indifferent. So why was the sight of Josselyn Weaver’s legs making him think about things he thought he’d forgotten years ago?
Clearing his throat, he said, “I’ve been thinking about our phone conversation, and I realize I wasn’t exactly helpful. I’d had a rough morning at the clinic and my mind was, well, a bit distracted.”
“That’s understandable. We all get like that from time to time.”
Not like him, Drew thought. For the past six years, he’d tried to function as a normal person while half of his mind was thinking about Evelyn, missing her and cursing the accident that had taken her away. It hadn’t been easy. It still wasn’t.
“You’re being kind and I don’t deserve that.”
She studied him with an odd look and Drew was glad she didn’t ask him to explain the comment that had slipped out of him as though it had a will of its own.
“Dr. Strickland, I’m sorry if my call alarmed you. That wasn’t my intention. All in all, I’d say Dillon is a bright, intelligent, well-rounded boy. And I enjoy having him in the library immensely. It’s just that he’s going a bit overboard with the books and the time he spends here. Some days he ignores his lunch recess and spends the break time in here with me. He really ought to be out running and playing with the other children. I’ve tried to encourage him to do just that, but he seems to want to talk.”

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