The Little Maverick Matchmaker. Stella Bagwell

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      “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

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