A Daddy For Her Triplets. Deb Kastner
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riding accident that had left him in a coma for several months. Thankfully, he’d recently awakened, but he’d had a mini stroke and was fighting to regain full use of all his faculties.
“Grumpy,” Grady replied with a shrug. “Which Chloe tells me is a good sign. He’s getting better every day.”
Clint clapped a hand on Grady’s shoulder. “Glad to hear it, man.”
Clint returned his attention to Libby, who was deep in conversation with the elderly Miss Betty Leland. He didn’t realize Miss Betty was speaking to him until Libby swatted him on his biceps with her palm.
“Clint, pay attention,” she admonished. Libby Everhart was the one and only woman who ever got to tell him what to do. He loved her like a mother and she’d earned his respect. “Miss Betty just asked you a question.”
“Yes, ma’am. I apologize, Miss Betty. My mind was miles away. You were saying?”
“Just wondering where your thoughts were, sweetheart. Oh, and I wanted to give you this.”
Clint automatically took the paper heart Miss Betty offered him, although he couldn’t fathom why she would want to give him a valentine. Oh, well. He couldn’t help it if his natural charm affected ladies of all ages. He gave her his best grin.
“Got your perfect match on it,” she explained.
“My what?” The smile dropped from his face.
“Be a good sport.” Libby’s voice held a note of warning he couldn’t ignore.
“I—er—okay.” There went any possibility of getting through this night unscathed. He watched his freedom fly right out the window along with any peace he’d hoped to maintain.
He glanced at the paper and immediately wished he hadn’t. He took a breath and choked on it.
Olivia Barlow
Clint Daniels
What was that about? Miss Betty couldn’t possibly think he ought to spend time with Olivia Barlow. The very thought was preposterous. Olivia being a match for Clint was about as far out for him as suggesting the moon was made of green cheese. The woman was a widow with three young sons. Surely Miss Betty didn’t think he’d—
“Just talk to her,” Miss Betty said with a crisp, knowing nod and a mischievous sparkle in her pale blue eyes. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Oh, so that’s all it was.
On what planet? Clint wanted to huff in protest, but with Libby there, he didn’t dare.
“Ask her to dance,” Libby said in a tone that was much too severe to be a mere suggestion. How was he supposed to ignore the mother voice? Clint winced inwardly.
What could Libby be thinking, agreeing with Miss Betty in this? And why were they ganging up on him?
His asking Olivia anything was so not going to happen, no matter what the older ladies thought was best for him. He had no inclination whatsoever to spend time with the triplets’ mama, even if she was a pretty woman with dark brown curls and sea-blue eyes. No one outside of Miss Betty—and Libby, apparently—would fault him for sitting this one out.
He scanned the room. Maybe Olivia wouldn’t even be here. A man could hope.
But no. There she was, over by the Sweetheart Wall, her palms pressed to her flaming cheeks.
And she was staring right at him.
Of course she was. Miss Betty had probably delivered an identical missive to her.
Their gazes met and locked. His heart thudded in an irregular tempo, but he refused to be the first to look away. He raised an eyebrow.
She shook her head, so briefly he wasn’t positive he’d seen it.
Had Miss Betty gotten to her, too? Did Olivia have any idea what the old woman had planned for them?
“Mr. Clint! Mr. Clint!” Three young, identical blond-haired boys accompanied those boisterous voices. Clint immediately recognized them as Olivia’s triplets.
And just when he’d thought things couldn’t get any more complicated. Now it wasn’t just about Olivia, it was about her kids, who were yammering on about something. “Come see! Come see!”
Every word out of their mouths seemed to be punctuated with an exclamation point. All three grabbed at his arms at once and started pulling his sleeves with all their might. Clint set his heels. They could tug all day and would not move him unless he wanted to be moved, but...
He turned his gaze on his foster mother, silently pleading with her to rescue him.
“Oh, go on. Don’t be a spoilsport,” Libby said with a laugh, waving him away.
Not what he wanted to hear. It was one thing to bow out of an obligation to the mother. But kids? How was he supposed to do that?
With a reluctant groan, he allowed the boys to lead him across the room. Maybe if he just followed them to whatever it was they wanted to show him, they’d leave him be and his problem would be solved. He wondered how quickly he could cut out if he saw an opportunity to do so.
It occurred to him that they might be guiding him toward their mother and that she’d put them up to accosting him, but Olivia had moved over to the punch table and was speaking to Carson and Ruby. The boys were clearly leading Clint toward the Sweetheart Wall.
“We made Valentine’s cards in school,” one of the boys said proudly. “We cut them out with scissors and everything.”
“Yeah? That’s...nice.” And it had absolutely nothing to do with him. So why were the triplets so intent on showing him their valentines?
He looked from one to another, feeling stymied. He didn’t know their names, and even if he did, he had no idea how he’d ever be able to tell them apart. They were especially daunting when they were all speaking at once.
“See?” another one of the boys said, pointing to a heart covered in childish print. “This one’s mine. And that’s Noah’s, and that one over there is Caleb’s.”
As dark as the room was, Clint had to lean forward to read their cards, and what he saw blew him away.
Their notes were for their new daddy?
That was an odd thing for a kid to write, but one thing was for certain. It had nothing to do with him. Maybe Olivia already had a man on her horizon. Good for her. Clint hoped so for his own sake, so he could get out of this ridiculous matchmaking scheme unscathed.
“So does this mean you’ve got a new dad lined up to replace your old one?” he asked hopefully, then immediately wanted to kick himself. All three of the boys’ smiles disappeared and sadness filled their gazes.
He was really, really not good with children. How insensitive could he be? He’d heard about Luke Kensington’s accidental death a couple years back. These kids had been through a lot.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Clint said, crouching before them. He searched his mind for the right thing to say. “I’m sure you loved your daddy very much.”
“He’s in heaven,” they said simultaneously. “With Jesus.”
Poor kids. Clint didn’t know about the “heaven” part of the equation, but he did know what it felt like to grow up without a father.
“My dad l—” Clint stumbled over his words. He’d been about to say left. Somehow he sensed that would make things worse for the boys. “—went away when I was about your age. So I know what it’s like to grow up without a father.”
“You’re just like us,” one of the boys said, excitement returning to his voice.
Not exactly.
Clint hadn’t had a mother like Olivia to care for him. He’d ended up in the foster care system