Daddy's Little Matchmaker. Roz Fox Denny
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we’ll ever be.”
He raised his head from his paws. Then he jumped up and loped to the door, running back to Laurel, then to the door again, barking loudly.
“It’s okay, boy. There’s no one in this group I need protecting from.” But because she wasn’t sure how he might act around noisy kids, Laurel snapped a leash to his collar. Together they followed the winding creek down to the footbridge.
She stopped short of the bridge, realizing Charity Madison hadn’t brought all five girls. Alan Ridge’s Jeep had pulled in behind.
“Maybe I do need protecting,” she murmured to her pet. But even as the words left her lips, she chided herself for such silliness. She hadn’t met a soul in town who didn’t speak highly of the man. She didn’t need twenty-twenty vision to see he was a doting father. And by all reports, cared for his grandmother.
So why did she get squirmy merely watching him climb from his Jeep? Maybe because she liked the way he looked in his tight blue jeans and open-throated white shirt. Laurel frowned. It wasn’t like her to swoon over a man’s looks. Yet there was a definite shift in her equilibrium.
Dog growled deep in his chest and didn’t let up.
“Hush. I know you recognize him. He’s not bringing flowers this time, but he will be carrying his little girl. She’s fragile, Dog, so if you don’t want to be shut in the house for the next hour, start making them feel welcome.”
As if he understood, the animal dropped to his belly at Laurel’s feet. And as the children trooped across the wooden bridge, he woofed softly, letting his tongue loll out the side of his mouth as the girls gathered around, lavishing attention on him.
“Big change in that animal between now and the last time we met,” Alan said in a husky voice. He held Louemma aloft and pushed her empty wheelchair.
Laurel, who kept an eye out for any adverse reaction from his child, ignored Alan’s remarks. “This is Dog,” she announced. “Don’t let his size or bark fool you into thinking he’s mean. He might look fierce, but he’s a big gooey marshmallow inside.”
All the girls laughed.
“Hey, you have horses,” Jenny exclaimed excitedly. She’d raced ahead up the trail on her own. “Cool. After you show us how to spin thread, can we take turns riding the horses around the yard?”
Laurel caught the panicked expression on Louemma’s face. The girl’s thin chest rose and fell fast, as though her heart might leap out through her flowered T-shirt. Laurel recalled hearing someone in town say that before her accident, Emily Ridge had been an accomplished rider who owned a stableful of Thoroughbreds. Then, shortly after Alan had brought Louemma home from the hospital, he’d sold every one of his wife’s prize horses.
At the time, Laurel supposed an anguished man had no time to bother with the care and feeding of high-strung animals. Now she wondered if Louemma’s obvious panic had been the catalyst for Alan’s behavior.
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