The 15 lb. Matchmaker

by Jill Limber

  She nuzzled his neck and murmured in a thick voice, “There’s a happy little boy in there, sweetheart. We just have to find him.”

  Not wanting to break the special moment, she held him as she searched through several baskets. Jolie picked out a few toys, then carried her purchases to the counter.

  The young sales clerk totaled the sale, acting as if she was doing Jolie an enormous favor. Perching Riley on her hip, Jolie dragged the seat out to the truck and had to come back for the clothes. Miss Personality went back to staring out the window, never bothering to ask if she might help carry things to the truck.

  Jolie wondered if she had been so self-centered at that age, and decided she probably had.

  She put the bag of clothes on the floor and sat the baby on the driver’s seat, then went around to the passenger side and tried to angle the car seat into the back.

  “Whoa, little lady, let me help you with that.”

  Jolie swung around and found a teenage cowboy, complete with boots and a Stetson hat smiling at her.

  “Looks like you need a hand.”

  She stepped back, and he wrestled the seat into the truck. She had needed a hand. “Thanks.”

  He glanced over at Riley as he pulled out the seat belt to secure the base. “This rig is from the Price place, isn’t it.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So, that’s Wild Man’s kid.”

  Wild Man? Griff’s nickname was Wild Man? It didn’t fit, at least not the Griff Price Jolie had met. She stared at the cowboy as he strapped the base of the seat firmly in place.

  His voice broke into her thoughts. “There you go.” He backed out and tipped his hat to her.

  “Thank you Mr. …”

  “Eric, Miss…” He flashed her a grin.

  They both turned at the sound of rapping on glass. The sales clerk from the store was glaring at them from the front window.

  Eric stopped flirting with a speed that told Jolie who his girlfriend was. “Whoops. Gotta go.”

  “Thank you, Eric.” She hid a smile as he sauntered into the store.

  She covered the car seat with the blanket, then picked Riley up and strapped him into the seat, tightening the harness until he was securely strapped in.

  “There you go, buddy. So, they call your daddy Wild Man. How did he ever get a nickname like that?”

  Riley blinked at her, yawned and settled back against the seat.

  Jolie drove to the diner to ask Helen about a pediatrician. She fought the big truck into a reasonable facsimile of a parallel park just as Helen came up the sidewalk. Jolie stood by the open door and waved to the waitress.

  Helen approached the truck and peeked curiously into the back seat at the sleeping baby. “My goodness, he looks just like his daddy did at that age.”

  “Wild Man?” Jolie said in a dry voice.

  Helen nodded. “He had that nickname for as long as I can remember. It fit.”

  Jolie still didn’t see the name fitting Griff, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to get sidetracked from her original purpose.

  “Helen, I want to thank you for recommending me for the job.”

  She shot Jolie a speculative look. “You’re welcome, honey. I think it’ll work out good for both of you.”

  She didn’t know if Helen meant the situation would be good for Jolie and Riley, or Jolie and Griff, but either way she wasn’t going into that right now. Jolie sensed the very real possibility that if she said anything she would be the topic of gossip. The feeling left her uncomfortable.

  Helen smoothed the front of her pink uniform. “I’m starting my shift. Come on in and I’ll fix you a sandwich.” She gestured toward the diner.

  “No, thanks. I need to find a pediatrician for the baby. I stopped by to see if you could give me a name.”

  “He’s sick?” Helen asked in a worried voice, glancing at Riley.

  “No, it’s for a well-baby check.”

  Helen looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Why in the world would you pay a doctor to check a baby when you know he isn’t sick?”

  Jolie didn’t have time to debate the issue so she ignored the question. “Is there a pediatrician you could recommend?”

  “Sure. There are a couple of them in the medical building over by the hospital. I heard the one with the foreign name was pretty good.”

  Jolie smiled, thanked Helen and climbed back in the truck. The one with the foreign name. She’d look up doctors in the yellow pages and try to figure that out when she got home.

  Riley never woke up on the trip back to the ranch. At first Jolie checked on him in the rearview mirror every minute or so, then settled in to the drive and took only an occasional glance at the baby. He slumped against the side of the car seat, his curly blond head resting against the head support.

  He really was a beautiful child, but then, how could he miss? His daddy was the best-looking man Jolie had ever laid eyes on. She sighed. Too bad he didn’t have a personality to match his looks.

  As she bumped down the rutted turnoff to the ranch, she noticed things she had missed before in the dark. The outbuildings all looked newer than the house. There were corrals beyond the barn, and on the opposite side of the house was a single-story, long building with lots of windows. A cowboy sauntered out, and Jolie decided that must be the bunkhouse.

  She pulled up in back of the house and opened the back door of the huge cab, then climbed on the running board and wrestled the sleeping baby out of the cab.

  “Need a hand, ma’am?”

  She glanced behind her and saw the man she had spotted coming out of the bunkhouse. Were all cowboys so polite? She remembered Griff’s gruff, rude behavior last night. Well, most cowboys.

  “Thanks. I can manage the baby if you would get the bags and bring them in.”

  He tipped his hat and smiled. “Sure thing.”

  She glanced behind her, a little unsure of the best way to step back off the running board and keep her balance with her arms full. A strong pair of hands on her waist guided her down off the running board, and she didn’t miss the spark of appreciation in the young man’s eyes when she turned to thank him.

  The cowboy’s reaction made her feel good. Being left at the altar had done nothing for her self-esteem. She smiled at him, and he hurried ahead of her to open the door.

  “Thanks, ah…” she whispered over the sleeping Riley’s head, not knowing the man’s name.

  “Chris, ma’am.”

  She winced at his address. They were probably the same age. “Jolie, please.”

  Again the grin. “Jolie.”

  She turned and carried Riley up to his crib, then hurried downstairs. Chris had deposited all her purchases on the kitchen table.

  “Anything else? How about I put the truck away for you?”

  “That would be great, but I need the baby seat out first.”

  “No problem. You want it in here?”

  “No, just put it on the back porch.”

  Chris tipped his hat. “No problem. You need anything else, you just call over to the bunkhouse. I’m working nights this week.”

  She assumed the cows slept at night and so did the cowboys. Jolie went to work washing clothes and toys, then fixed herself a sandwich.

  She wondered what Griff did for lunch.

  She hadn’t thought to ask. There wasn’t anyplace for miles to grab lunch. Reminded of his appetite, she cleared off the top of the freezer, bagging up the newspapers and beer bottles and cans, then poked among the white packages until she found one labeled steak. She wasn’t going to give Griff a chance to complain about the lack of food a second time.

  In fact, she thought, perhaps food was a way to a truce with her surly boss. They certainly hadn’t gotten off to a good start, but it might be a way to get them back on track. She definitely needed to try a different approach.

  Confrontation was not the best way to handle the strong, silent type. He just turned around and left when he didn’t want to
talk about something.

  She ran upstairs to check on Riley and found him awake. She brought him down and fed him. Hungrily he ate three jars of baby food. Most babies would have been howling if they had been that hungry, but he had been patiently waiting in his crib.

  She picked him up and hugged him, loving the way he nestled into her shoulder.

  “You can ask for what you want, sweetheart. Believe me, you’ll be happier in the long run if you learn to speak up.”

  She knew that from personal experience.

  She put Riley down on the blanket on the floor and put the toys within his reach. He made no move for the toys, but he did watch her every move. She talked to him the whole time she scrubbed potatoes and took an inventory of the contents of the pantry.

  “Canned vegetables. That’s the best we can do. We should have stopped at the market.”

  She finished her preparation for dinner and scrubbed down the car seat, then folded the clean clothes and carried them and the baby upstairs.

  She opened the second drawer of the chest and found it empty except for a facedown framed photo. She pulled it out of the drawer and turned it over. It was a picture of a man with two boys who looked to be about ten and twelve. The man looked like an older version of Griff, and except for the difference in their size, the boys looked almost exactly alike. This had to be Griff and his father and brother.

  She studied the photo, trying to decide which boy was Griff. She guessed the bigger of the two boys. Although he was smiling, he had a more thoughtful, serious look than the younger boy, who mugged for the camera.

  She started to set the photo on the dresser, then stopped, wondering why it had been in the drawer in the first place. It was the only personal item that hinted of family she had seen in the house, and it lay facedown in the drawer.

  Suddenly she didn’t feel comfortable leaving it out and returned it to its original spot. She laid the piles of clean clothes on top of the frame, pondering why it would be hidden away in a drawer.

  It was part of Riley’s past, this photo of his father and uncle and grandfather. Someday she hoped that it would mean something to Riley, that his father would warm up enough to tell his son family stories that would give the child a sense of his past.

  She looked over at the little boy and wondered if she would have enough time to bring father and son together. She hoped so.

  She missed her own father, even though she was still furious with him for all his manipulation in her life and furious with herself for letting him.

  She repeated her new mantra. I live with courage. She would bring father and son together before she left.

  Griff washed up at the bunkhouse and endured the teasing from his ranch hands about sprucing up before he went home to the little woman. Actually he was killing time, not wanting to face her.

  She’d had a whole day to come up with more questions and demands, and no matter how pretty and sweet smelling she was, he was too tired to deal with her tonight.

  He gave instruction to the two men on night duty, then headed to the house in the deepening twilight, his stomach growling to the accompaniment of his boots thumping against the dry ground.

  The door from the back porch to the kitchen was open, and he could see her next to the stove. If she had fixed rabbit food for dinner again, he was going to make a beeline right back to the bunkhouse and eat with the men, no matter what amount of ribbing he took from his hands.

  Climbing the back steps, he decided to let the men think he was interested in her. It would keep them from wasting time sniffing around the back door. This was not the kind of woman who was going to be interested in a ranch hand, even on a casual basis.

  No way was she a casual woman. He didn’t know her, but she didn’t flirt and send signals in that direction.

  He took off his jacket, then sat down on the bench just inside the porch door and pulled off his boots. The good smells coming from the kitchen put him in an optimistic frame of mind.

  The porch looked all tidy, and the top of the freezer was cleared off. Hopefully she’d been busy enough today that she’d be too tired to hound him.

  He got up and stretched his aching muscles, then paused in the kitchen door and watched Jolie, her back to him, at the stove. The baby must be asleep. He tamped down a twinge of guilt at the relief that he wouldn’t have to see the kid.

  It wasn’t Riley’s fault that he was a constant reminder of his wife’s infidelity and his brother’s betrayal.

  The old radio on top of the refrigerator was on low and Garth Brooks was singing about having friends in low places. Jolie was swaying slowly to the music, her hips encased in a pair of fancy jeans that had never made contact with a saddle.

  She bent over and pulled open the broiler and his mouth went dry. The woman had a very fine set of curves.

  He came up behind her, his hands fairly itching. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and prayed for self-control. “That smells good.”

  She gasped and spun around, crashing into him with an elbow to his ribs.

  “You scared me!”

  He winced and grabbed her arms to steady her as she bounced off him.

  “Sorry, I thought you heard me out on the porch.” He had noticed she had a tendency to daydream and wondered what went on in her pretty little head.

  She stepped back out of his grasp. Reluctantly he let her go, surprised how firm the muscles in her arms felt. She wasn’t as fragile as she looked. But, damn, she still smelled good. Even better than the steak in the broiler.

  She smiled up at him, looking more composed. “I was thinking about something. How do you like your steak?”

  “Rare.” And he liked his women pretty and slim and blond, just like her.

  “Okay. Then dinner is ready.” She grabbed a platter and opened the broiler again, forking two steaks onto it.

  He took it out of her hands and set it next to a salad and a basket of bread. Now, this was the kind of meal he liked.

  She carried a casserole of scalloped potatoes over, then went back to the stove for a bowl of green beans.

  Griff forgot all about what the hands were eating in the bunkhouse and pulled a chair up to the table. Even Margie never managed a meal like this.

  “Looks good.”

  “Thanks.” She slipped into the chair across from him and cut a piece off one of the steaks, sliding it onto her plate.

  Griff tore into his food and was having seconds when he realized with some relief that there had been no conversation at all. He didn’t think of her as the quiet type, in fact she’d had her cute little nose in his business since he’d hired her.

  He looked across the table at Jolie, and she smiled. She didn’t look angry. In his experience that was the one thing that might keep a woman from talking.

  “Good dinner.” He scooped more potatoes onto his plate.

  “Thank you.” She pushed a piece of steak around her plate. “May I ask you a question?”

  He knew it had been too good to last. “What?”

  “Would it be all right with you if I take the baby to the doctor?”

  “Is he sick?” Hadn’t they covered the doctor thing already?

  “No, no,” she said quickly.

  He felt a spurt of relief that surprised him.

  She put her fork down across her plate. “Do you know anything about his medical history?”

  “How much history can a ten-month-old have?”

  “I’m thinking of vaccinations, shots.”

  He vaccinated his calves. Made sense they did the same thing for babies. “I don’t know.”

  She shifted uneasily in her seat, obviously uncomfortable, but she plowed right ahead. “Maybe you could contact your wife.”

  He stared at her until she started to squirm. The pain of an old familiar ache ate at him. “My wife is dead.”

  He watched the shock of his blunt words register on her expressive face, then embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry. I…” She looked
as if she was searching for something else to say.

  He closed his eyes for a moment until the anger at Deirdre and Jake’s irresponsible behavior flared. The betrayal he could understand. Deirdre had been a beautiful, enticing woman. There was no excuse for driving drunk.

  When he looked at her again, all he saw was sympathy. He didn’t correct her misreading of the situation. He didn’t plan to explain the whole sordid mess to her, either. Let her believe it was grief keeping him quiet.

  “Thanks for dinner.” He got up and left her sitting at the table, staring after him.

  Chapter Five

  The alarm jolted Jolie out of a dream that involved Griff and herself and a blanket in the bed of his truck. She put her hands to her hot cheeks. Her dreams weren’t usually so, well, erotic.

  She rolled to her side and slapped the button to silence the annoying beep, squinting at the time. Five o’clock.

  For heaven’s sake it was still dark outside. Groggy, she wondered why her alarm was set for the ungodly hour, then she remembered last night.

  Miserable over her prying at dinner, last night Jolie lay in bed a long time thinking about Griff. Obviously, she’d opened a wound with her questions.

  She thought about Griff’s words and the look on his face as the meal ended, before he’d gotten up and walked out.

  My wife is dead.

  She’d decided to get up early and fix him breakfast and pack a lunch. She couldn’t make the loss of his wife any easier, but she could see that he was taken care of.

  Up until now she’d been going about getting father and son together all wrong. What was the old saying, she thought? You can catch more flies with honey than you could with vinegar. Maybe Griff had been staying away from the house because coming home was not that appealing to him.

  She was going to change tactics.

  He worked long hours. From what she’d noticed when she arose in the mornings, he left with only coffee in his stomach and didn’t take a lunch. She thought of the salad she’d prepared the first night and the disappointed look on his face when he realized that was the whole meal.

  Drowsily she decided she’d have to work on that. Surprisingly she found the thought of having him around more appealing. But, she reminded herself, it was all for Riley. She was doing this for the child.