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
