The Little Maverick Matchmaker. Stella Bagwell

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