A Daddy For Her Triplets. Deb Kastner
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her boys here...
She was well and truly stuck.
She watched as Clint smiled casually and bent his head toward Libby to better hear what she was saying over the combined din of music and conversation. While Olivia didn’t have any inclination to follow Miss Betty’s suggestion, she had to admit he was handsome—in a rough kind of way. He wore his thick hair long enough to brush his collar and his hazel eyes were an intriguing blend of green and gold. He hadn’t shaved in a couple days, and scruff shadowed the sharp planes of his cheeks and chin. Tall with broad shoulders, he looked every inch the mountain man he was.
She imagined his rugged good looks appealed to some women, but she didn’t count herself among them. Her late husband, Luke, had been clean-cut, with a gentle gaze and winsome smile. Those were the kinds of features that attracted Olivia.
Clint’s expression wasn’t unkind, but it certainly couldn’t be described as gentle. His smile was extremely confident, possibly even tipping the scale into arrogant territory.
She couldn’t help the grin that crept up the corners of her lips as she watched him with his foster mother. Clint wouldn’t be smiling in a moment. Miss Betty was headed straight toward him with his valentine missive in her hand.
A woman on a mission. A matchmaking mission.
Olivia chuckled. At the very least it would be an amusing exchange, and her gaze lingered. Could she help it if she wanted to watch the show?
A show that directly involved her.
Heat rushed to her face and she quickly turned away, her stomach churning. What was she thinking? As humorous as Clint’s reaction would be, it was hardly something she’d want to see. How embarrassing. He probably wouldn’t be rude to an old lady, but she suspected he’d toss the paper heart with her name on it into the trash can the moment Miss Betty turned her back. What a humiliating notion.
Leaving the dance altogether was sounding better and better by the moment. Now would be good.
Olivia searched for her sons and found them still lingering by the Sweetheart Wall, but they were no longer interested in the notes pinned there. Instead, they were rolling around on the floor and wrestling with each other, their hard work on their valentines long forgotten.
“Where are the cards you made?” she prompted, affectionately ruffling Noah’s hair as he got to his feet, and separating Levi and Caleb.
Noah proudly pointed to the wall where a jaggedly cut heart was written on in pencil with large, uneven print. Several of the letters held telltale smudges indicating they had been erased and rewritten. But it was the words themselves that caused Olivia’s heart to drop into her stomach and her throat to clog with emotion.
For: My New Daddy
Love, Noah
She didn’t have to ask where Levi and Caleb’s valentines were located. She found them easily. Close to the bottom of the board where little ones’ hands could reach, they were the only two on the wall with the same request as Noah’s.
For a father.
The one thing she could not give them. She would do anything for her boys. Anything. But some things were beyond her control.
Her heart ached for her boys, partly because they’d known grief at such a young age, having lost their father to an accident, and also because she was painfully aware that she could not fulfill their wishes. She had no clue how she was supposed to explain to them that she wasn’t looking to get remarried. They wouldn’t equate their idea of getting a new daddy with the fact that, in the process, she’d have to find a new husband. They were only six years old. How could they possibly understand?
She didn’t want them to know anything about the strain she was under. She wanted them to grow up innocent and happy. With the death of their father, they’d had to mature far too much already. She worried about their not having a good male role model in their lives, but there was little she could do to change that, at least not at present and possibly never. Male friends and neighbors would have to do.
“What’s that, Mama?” Levi asked, pointing to the crumpled heart in her fist. She’d forgotten she was still holding it. “Did you get a valentine? Who’s it from?”
“I—no—” she stammered, but Caleb had already loosened her grip enough to pry the paper away.
“It says Mama and Mr. Clint!” Caleb exclaimed. He was the best reader of the three and had no problem sounding out the words. This one time she wished that he wasn’t quite so good at it.
The triplets simultaneously broke into excited chatter about Mama’s valentine.
“Boys, please.” She felt as if she was watching a spark skittering down a long fuse toward a barn full of explosives. “This isn’t...” She frowned and lowered her brows. “Wait. How do you guys know Clint—er—Mr. Clint?”
“He came to our class,” Levi explained.
“Yeah,” Caleb added. “He talked about camping and rock climbing and horseback riding and search and rescue. He is so cool, Mama. He works in the Deep Gulch Mountains. I want to work in the mountains.”
“And he even brought his dog, Pav,” Noah exclaimed, talking over his brothers. “Pav is a golden ’triever. He likes to catch balls in his mouth.”
“Pav?” Olivia was barely keeping up with the babbling triplets, but it didn’t take a genius to add the boys’ thoughts together and come up with a frightening sum.
One man plus one woman plus three young boys and a dog named Pav.
Oh, no.
“Boys,” she said, hoping the tone of her voice alone would corral their high spirits. But it was too late. With a whoop and a holler they took off, sprinting across the room as fast as their legs could carry them.
Straight toward Clint without a single detour.
From bad to worse to a total disaster in a matter of seconds.
Olivia groaned and absently combed her fingers through her hair, then realized what she was doing and immediately dropped her hands to her side. She was not going to worry about how her hair looked, or if her makeup had smeared, because it didn’t matter how Clint saw her. His perceptions wouldn’t make a bit of difference to her.
That was her story and she was going to stick to it.
* * *
Clint kept his hand on his foster mother’s elbow, not so much because she needed an escort as that he did. This whole Valentine Roundup thing made him antsy and uncomfortable, even if the league had promised there’d be no matchmaking this year. At a mixer like this with most if not all the members of the Lone Star Cowboy League and their families present, there were bound to be single women on the prowl for a husband, and Clint wasn’t interested. He was a confirmed bachelor with a capital B.
He was not in the market for a wife. Unfortunately, women weren’t so quick to pick up on that.
He’d had a few relationships over the years, but it never worked out long term—and he readily admitted he was the reason. He’d start dating an attractive woman only to have her go and get all serious on him, usually sooner rather than later. She’d start pushing him to “define the relationship.” Or worse yet, she’d go and use the L word. Even the thought made him shiver.
He didn’t like feeling boxed in, and there was nothing like a woman trying to hog-tie him to make him claustrophobic. Freedom to come and go as he pleased was paramount to him. Women just didn’t get that. Or want it.
Which suited him just fine. He liked his life the way it was. His golden retriever, Pav, was all the company he needed. Marriage and family? He had nothing to offer.
As they passed through the room, Clint took a moment to shake hands with Grady Stillwater, a wounded ex-army special ops buddy who, up until recently, had also been a certified bachelor—at least until