The Little Maverick Matchmaker
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Stella Bagwell
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Chapter One
âWow! Look at all the people, Dad! This is gonna be super fun!â
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 childâs brown hair was already mussed despite the careful combing Drew had given it before theyâd left home, plus the tail of his plaid cotton shirt was pulled loose from the back of his jeans. However, it wasnât the boyâs disheveled appearance that concerned Drew. It was the mischievous twinkle in Dillonâs brown eyes that worried him the most.
Like his late mother, Dillon didnât 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 shouldnât be talking about.
âIt does look like plenty of folks are here today,â Drew replied to his sonâs excited comment, while silently wishing he could think of one good reason to grab Dillonâs 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 Dillonâs care.
âThatâs gonna make everything better!â Dillon grabbed a tight hold on his fatherâs hand and tugged him toward the crowd. âCome on, Dad. I want you to meet my new friends.â
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 Stricklandâs 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, didnât have much time to socialize.
Who was he trying to kid? Drew wondered. Heâd never been a people person. Even when Evelyn had been alive, heâd always been more than happy to stand in the background and let her do most of the talking.
But Evelyn wasnât 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 Dillonâs age, came racing up to them.
âHi, Dillon!â the three children shouted in unison.
Grinning broadly, Dillon gave his friends a wave, then proudly began introductions.
âDad, these are my best buddies.â 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. âThis is Oliver and Owen. And thatâs Rory,â 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. âHi, guys. Itâs nice to meet some of Dillonâs friends.â
The boy named Oliver immediately spoke up, âDillon says youâre a hero. âCause youâre a doctor. Is that right?â
A hero? Far from it, Drew wanted to say. If heâd 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.
âI am a doctor,â Drew answered simply.
Owen looked properly impressed. âGee, can you sew up cuts and fix a broken arm?â
âOf course he can, silly!â Rory chided her friend. âAny ole doctor can do that.â
âMy dad can fix anybody thatâs sick,â Dillon boasted proudly.
âDillon,â Drew gently admonished. âYouâre stretching things a bit.â
âWell, almost anybody,â the boy amended.
Deciding that was enough medical talk, Oliver said to Dillon, âWanta come with us? Weâre gonna go gather some pinecones.â
âWhat for?â Dillon asked.
The black-haired boy rolled his eyes. âTo throw at the dorky first graders, what else?â
Drew was about to tell his son he wasnât about to throw pinecones at any child, much less one younger than him, when Dillon suddenly said, âNaw, Iâm going to stay with my dad, so I can show him around. He doesnât know many people yet and I do.â
âOkay. See ya later, Dillon,â Rory called as the three kids turned and ambled away.
âDillon, this deal with the pinecones, Iââ
âOh, that was nothing, Dad. Oliver wants to act like heâs a tough guy, but he ainât.â
âHe isnât,â Drew corrected his sonâs grammar.
âThatâs right. Oliver is just a big mouth. He wouldnât hurt a flea even if it was biting him.â
Drew let out a heavy breath. At thirty-three, it had been many years since heâd been a boy of Dillonâs age. And even then he hadnât been surrounded by a group of friends. Heâd 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.
âIâm glad to hear it,â Drew told his son, then glanced at his watch. âAre you hungry? Iâm sure there are some tables of food around here somewhere.â
âOh, no, Dad! We donât want to eat yet. Letâs walk around and look at the girls.â
Girls? He hadnât noticed his son talking about girls. But that was probably Drewâs own fault. Before theyâd moved to Rust Creek Falls a month ago, Drew hadnât spent the kind of time a real father should spend with his son. For the past six years, since Evelynâs 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 wasnât easy.
âLook at the girls?â Drew asked drily. âAre you thinking youâd like to have a girlfriend?â
Dillonâs impish grin grew sly as he tugged on his fatherâs hand. âI have to find the right one first, Dad. Letâs go!â
Finding it easier not to argue the point, Drew went along with his son. With any luck, he thought, heâd 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.
âOh, look at that one, Dad. Sheâs really pretty. And the one next to her with the red hair is, too. Donât you think sheâd make a great girlfriend?â
Totally bemused by his sonâs suggestions, Drew glanced at the two women whoâd caught his sonâs 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 sonâs school.
âTheyâre both very pretty, Dillon. But both of those ladies are already happily married.â
Dillon tilted his head to one side as he cast his father a dubious look. âDonât you want to be happily married, too, Daddy?â
Feeling as though heâd 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 couldnât know how much sheâd loved her baby. He couldnât remember how her hands had gently held and soothed him. Or how her soft voice had sung to him. No. Dillon couldnât remember anything about the woman whoâd given him life. But Drew hadnât forgotten. If anything, heâd clung to her memory, while deep inside, the resentment of losing her festered like a sore that could never heal.
Bending down to his sonâs level, Drew gently tried to explain. âLook, Dillon, your dad has already been happily married to your mother.â
Dillonâs little features wrinkled up in a frustrated frown. âBut what about now, Dad? Youâre not married now!â
Straightening to his full height, Drew let out another long sigh. God help him get through this day, he prayed. âDillon, I understand that most of your friends have married mommies and daddies. But those daddies are different. Theyâre not like me.â
Dillonâs bottom lip thrust forward. âBut you could be like them,â he argued. âIf you wanted to!â
His patience wearing thin, Drew ushered his son forward. âThatâs enough of that. Come along and weâll get something to eat.â
For the next few minutes, Drew managed to keep Dillonâs 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 Stricklandâs 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 wasnât sure what Claire was doing here at the school picnic. He supposed sheâd taken the opportunity to visit with friends. At the moment she was in a conversation with an older couple heâd seen a few times in the boardinghouse.
âThereâs Claire,â Drew said, in an effort to divert Dillonâs attention. âLetâs go talk with her.â
âAw, Dad, donât be a fuddy-duddy. We talk to Claire all the time when weâre home,â he reasoned. Then, like a bird dog that had spotted a flock of quail, the child suddenly went on alert. âLook at that lady over there by the punch bowl, Dad! Sheâs pretty, huh?â
Drew was about to warn Dillon that if he didnât 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 sonâs 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 wasnât 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, sheâd probably already sized him up as some sort of creep, Drew thought.
âDillon, itâs not polite to point. I donât want to see your finger pointing at anyone again. Hear me?â
It wasnât often that Drew scolded his son over anything. But to be honest he wasnât around long enough to do much scolding, or otherwise. These past four weeks, since theyâd 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.
âOkay, Dad. I wonât point,â Dillon promised. âBut letâs go talk to her. She looks nice!â
Drew was about to warn his son that just because she looked nice didnât mean sheâd 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, sheâd turned back around and Drew could see she was eyeing the both of them with wry speculation.
âHi! Iâm Dillon Strickland,â Dillon boldly introduced. âThis is my dad. His name is Drew Strickland.â
Her gaze traveled from Dillon to Drew, then back to the child, before a wide smile spread across her face.
âWell, hello, Dillon and Drew,â she said warmly. âIâm Josselyn Weaver.â
She shook Dillonâs hand and then turned to Drew. âIâm the new school librarian at Rust Creek Falls Elementary,â she informed him.
Drew extended his hand, and for a moment their palms touched and her small delicate fingers wrapped around his. He wasnât sure why the brief contact registered in his brain, but it did. And he couldnât let go of her hand fast enough.
âNice to meet you, Miss Weaver,â Drew politely replied. âDillon 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.â
âFor sure,â Josselyn said with another broad smile for Dillon. âDo you like to read, Dillon?â
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.
âOh, yeah!â he exclaimed. âI love to read. Well, I meanâI do if I canât play video games or watch TV. I have lots and lots of books, though.â
Drew cast a skeptical glance at his son. As best as he could remember, the shelves on the walls in Dillonâs bedroom might be holding two or three childrenâs books and a few comics. If Dillon was reading other things while Drew was working at the clinic, he didnât know about it.
âMy son does read,â Drew told her, âbut I think the âlots and lotsâ is stretching it a bit.â
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.
âThatâs okay,â she assured him. âThe fact that he reads even one book is encouraging. And itâs my job to find stories that make children want to read more.â
âI read the funnies in the newspaper with my gramps,â Dillon spoke up. âHe says Iâm a good reader.â
âWell now, thatâs great to hear,â she told him. âThen Iâll be seeing you whenever you visit the library.â
âOh, you bet! Youâll be seeing me plenty.â He grinned at Josselyn, then looked proudly up at Drew. âMy dad helps women get babies.â
It was a good thing Drew wasnât 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. âUhâpardon my son. He means that I...deliver babies. Iâm a doctor. An ob-gyn.â
Her gaze carefully slipped over his face, as though she was trying to decide for herself if he was actually a doctor. A womanâs doctor, at that.
âI see. Do you work here in Rust Creek Falls?â
âFor now. Iâm here on a temporary basis. The clinic is expecting another doctor to join the staff after the first of the year. Heâs away right now. Doing Peace Corps work.â
âAnd youâre filling in until he gets here. Thatâs nice.â
She might call it nice, but for Drew this whole move to Rust Creek Falls had been an upheaval. Heâd never been a person who cared for change. Thunder Canyon, where heâd been born and raised, where heâd 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 didnât need to hear about his gloomy thoughts.
âI hope that my being here is helping the community,â 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 sonâs mind. âAnd Dillon is enjoying the change.â
âThatâs good. I donât imagine heâs had any trouble making friends.â
âNo. Heâs never been remotely close to being shy.â
Dillonâs gaze vacillated between the two adults before he finally settled his attention on Josselyn.
âAre you married?â the boy asked bluntly.
The womanâs cheeks turned beet red and it was all Drew could do to keep from groaning out loud.
âIâm 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,â Drew attempted to explain.
âNo! Not a girlfriend,â Dillon immediately corrected. âIâm gonna find him a wife!â
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.
âOh. Well, thatâs a serious search,â she said, her dubious gaze landing on Drewâs face.
Mortified at the whole situation, Drew grabbed Dillon by the hand. âUhâwe have to be going. Itâs been nice meeting you, Miss Weaver.â
Before she could say more, Drew quickly urged his son away from the pretty librarian.
Dillon instantly complained, âDad, why are you leaving Miss Weaver? She was really nice! And pretty, too! And she liked talking to us. I could tell!â
His expression grim, Drew stared straight ahead as he hurried his son through the crowd. âI think weâve done enough picnicking for one day, son. Weâre going home.â
âWhy are we going home?â Dillon stubbornly demanded. âWe havenât talked to everybody yet.â
âWe didnât come to the picnic to talk to everybody,â Drew said, trying to keep the thread of anger in his voice from unraveling completely. âAnd we certainly didnât come to pick out girlfriends or wives, or any such thing as that.â
âAw, Dad, youâre messing up bad,â Dillon grumbled. âYouâre letting a good one get away.â
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 wasnât searching for a mate. Short-or long-term. And the quicker Dillon got that through his head, the better.
âWeâre not on a fishing trip, Dillon.â
âThatâs right,â Dillon said sullenly. âGramps takes me fishing. Not you.â
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 couldnât help but be envious of the close connection. It was something heâd 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 wouldnât 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 didnât 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.
