Sweet and Sassy Daddies

by Natalie Ann

  But this was wrong. The devil himself had taken possession of Mat’s thoughts and desires. Either that or the love he felt for Julie was deeper and stronger than his will.

  Mat was committed to his conviction to remain single. Or... he thought he was.

  Help me, he silently prayed to the Great Spirit.

  However, it seemed as if his supplication simply floated away, unheard, unanswered, on the mountain breeze.

  “If ever there was a woman who might change a man’s mind,” he murmured, weaving his fingers into her thick tresses, “that woman would be you.”

  His mind was in total chaos when he covered her mouth with his. She tasted of heat and honey, and Mat wanted nothing more than to get lost in this most sumptuous moment. He felt enveloped by the night. Swathed in the powerful need that thumped through him like the rhythm of some ancient drum, matching the beat of his heart.

  Julie. Julie. In that instant, she filled him. Mind. Body. Soul.

  She smelled of sunshine and wildflowers. Her skin was velvet. Her hair, feather-soft. Her lips, moist. Hot. Yielding.

  He wanted to spirit her away from this too-public street where any passerby could see them. He wanted to go someplace quiet. Private. He wanted to satiate the craving that had seemed to well up out of nowhere and drive him half crazy.

  Slowly, laboriously, as if through a viscous haze, something dawned on him. Julie wasn’t touching him. Her arms weren’t around him. Her hands weren’t kneading or sliding or urging, as his were. They hung limp at her sides.

  Oh, she’d enjoyed their kiss just as much as he. Her breath had quickened against his cheek. However, it was clear that she was using great restraint.

  He looked down into her lovely face, blinking his way out of the rapturous fog that had ensnared him as he searched her gem-green eyes.

  Julie attempted to avoid his gaze, but he wouldn’t let her. He curled his index finger, nestled it beneath her chin and tipped it up so that she was forced to look at him. Finally, the discomfort she felt evidently became more than she could tolerate and she stepped away from him.

  There was quiet resolve in her tone when she said, “You say I’m the kind of woman who might change a man’s mind—”

  Even though her tone sounded grating and dry, the emphasis wasn’t lost on him.

  “—but,” she continued, “you weren’t completely clear about whether or not you have changed your mind.”

  Silence was Mat’s only recourse.

  After the span of two heartbeats, Julie whispered, “I didn’t think so.”

  Shadowy gloom seemed to fall around them like a wet blanket. Then a tiny frown bit into her brow. Her voice was stronger now as she asked, “How fair are you being to me, Mat?”

  Emotions walloped him like a hammer between the eyes. Guilt. Remorse. Distress.

  Julie was right. How fair was he being to her?

  As determined as he’d been only a moment before to look into her eyes, now he couldn’t keep his gaze from sliding, reproachfully, to the ground.

  “I’m sorry, Julie,” he murmured. Reaching up, he raked agitated fingers across the back of his neck. “There’s no excuse for my behavior.”

  “You’re right,” she snipped. “There isn’t.”

  He forced himself to look at her. The agony he felt over his lack of control escalated.

  “All I can tell you,” he continued, desperation heavy in his voice, “is that you’ve gotten under my skin. You’re in my thoughts. In my dreams. I can’t escape you, no matter how hard I try.” Unable to quell his tongue, he said, “You’re in my blood, Julie.”

  She was quiet for several seconds. Challenge set her jaw. “Yet you’re still determined not to commit yourself to a relationship.”

  Confusion reigned in his chaotic thoughts. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say no. Hell, he didn’t know how to respond.

  Boisterous shouts and squeals had both their heads turning to see Grayson’s front door open, teens and younger chil­dren pouring out onto the lawn.

  Softly Julie said to Mat, “I can live with being just your friend. But I won’t allow you to treat me with disrespect.”

  That mallet of guilt slammed into him again, this time straight to the gut.

  “I—”

  “Dad!”

  Grace raced to her father and jumped into his arms, making it impossible for Mat to assure Julie that playing games was the last thing he’d meant to do... that the kiss they shared was as much a surprise to him as it was to her... that he’d been spellbound by—

  “Hey, Julie,” Brian called out to his sister, “can Richard come have ice cream with us?”

  The smile she offered her brother was wide, but Mat could see the shadows still clouding her lovely eyes. Shame filled him to know that he’d put them there.

  “Sure,” she told Brian. “Your friend is more than welcome to come with us.”

  The boys jogged across the grass to join her.

  Julie said, “We should probably go so we can get to the shop before it closes.” She glanced at Grace, evidently working to keep her tone cheerful. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

  Grace grinned. “I can’t wait.” Then the child turned to her daddy. “Let’s go home, Dad. You promised to help me put together your old racetrack, remem­ber?”

  “Of course, I remember. How could I forget a thing like that?”

  Just as Julie had succeeded in doing, Mat put on a mask of lightheartedness, even though his heart was anything but light. Taking Grace’s hand, he headed toward the car, but not before turning to watch Julie walk away from him without a backward glance.

  Chapter Nine

  The narrow streets of Misty Glen Reservation were lined with booths, tables, even tents, featuring all manner of Native American arts and crafts. Moccasins, belts, vests, dresses, some plain, some adorned with shells or colorful beads, were on display. Authentic Kolheek pottery of all shapes and sizes was for sale, decorated with geometric designs in mellow earth tones. Oil and acrylic paintings of day-to-day Indian life, now and in the past, hung beside muted watercolors. The exquisite quilts Julie saw must have taken hours and hours to create. One stall of­fered hand carved wooden figures with facial features so realistic she actually expected the tiny statues to start talking as she passed by.

  The steady stream of cars along the streets, their drivers searching for places to park, and the crowds milling about the tables and tents of the various artisans was a clear sign that people from all over New England were visiting the Fall Craft Festival.

  “What is that delicious smell?”

  Julie laughed as her brother’s plaintive question was followed up with an audible rumble from his evidently empty stomach. She reached into her purse and rummaged around for some money. “Go find out what it is,” she told him, giving him the bills. “And bring me back something to eat when you come. I won’t go far.”

  He grinned his thanks. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” Then he disappeared into the crowd of people on his search for their lunch.

  Turning to admire the hand-tooled leather purses, Julie bumped into Tori Landing.

  “Julie! How are you?”

  Tori owned a bed-and-breakfast she called Freedom Trail. Julie’s heart warmed as she hugged her friend tightly.

  “I haven’t seen you since school started, have I?” Julie asked. “I should have stopped by the inn for a visit. What kind of a friend am I? And after all you’ve done for me. I should be ashamed.”

  “Oh, now—” Tori shushed her with a wave of her hand “—you’ve been busy with a new job and a new home. Not to mention Brian. How are things going for you two?”

  “Wonderfully!” Julie had Tori to thank for the new life she and Brian were enjoying. Tori was in her mid-twenties, Julie guessed. She was a thin, willowy beauty, but without the young woman’s quiet yet formidable inner strength, Julie didn’t think she’d have survived those awful weeks of fighting her stepfather for legal custody of her broth
er.

  The two women stood on the sidewalk sharing some of what had been going on in their lives, and Julie was careful not to mention Mat. The man was stubborn as a pack mule, yet there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. The passionate kiss he’d planted on her lips just last weekend had made her knees go weak. That same kiss had also revealed, unequivocally, his true feelings for her. But Julie refused to fight a los­ing battle. And sadly she’d been forced to conclude, once again, that Mat’s determination had truly won the war he was having with his emotions.

  “Tori, look what I found.”

  The stranger who approached the two of them was a woman of about the same age as Tori, Julie surmised. Her honey-brown hair glistened in the fall sunshine, and although her delicate features were upturned in a small smile, there was an unmistakable sadness about her. Julie’s gaze lowered to the small swell of the young woman’s belly, and her curiosity was sparked regarding what might cause such mel­ancholy at what should be a time of great joy for any woman.

  Tori examined the colorfully beaded bracelet the woman held up for inspection.

  “It’s beautiful, Lyssa,” Tori told her. “I’m glad you’re allowing yourself to have some fun. You deserve it.”

  Tori looked at Julie. “Julie, I’d like you to meet Lyssa Palmer. She’s a nurse.” Tori’s voice lowered conspiratorially as she said, “Lyssa’s staying with me at the moment.”

  Lyssa’s head automatically swiveled, almost as if she was searching the crowd for an intruder. Something akin to fear shadowed the woman’s chestnut-hued eyes and Julie’s heart went out to her.

  “It’s okay,” Tori said, calming Lyssa with a pat on her forearm. “Julie stayed with me, too, for a bit.”

  Lyssa’s gaze lit on Julie’s face, and Julie smiled reassuringly. Nothing brought people together like trouble shared.

  “You can trust Tori,” Julie told Lyssa. “She’ll help you just as she helped me. I’ve got a lovely home now. And a great job.”

  Tori grinned. “That’s what I’m working on for Lyssa right now. A job. I heard that Dr. Makwa needs a nurse.” Her smile widened mischievously. “And have I got a nurse for him!”

  Julie couldn’t help but join in with Tori’s laughter, but she didn’t fail to notice that poor Lyssa looked less than hopeful about whatever situation she found herself in.

  Just then Grace raced up to Julie.

  “Hi, Ms. Dacey,” the child greeted, excitement lacing her tone. “I didn’t know you were coming to the festival.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it, sweetie,” Julie said. “I love shopping.”

  Grace’s nose wrinkled. “I hate shopping. But later my great-granddaddy’s going to tell some stories. There’s going to be dancing and everything. At the Community Center. That’ll be really neat, don’tcha think? Will you be there? Will Brian be there? Is he here now?”

  Julie chuckled as she attempted to answer all the questions that had been tossed her way. “We’ll be there. We wouldn’t miss it. And Brian’s around here someplace.”

  An evening steeped in Native American culture sounded right up her alley. Brian had been nearly as excited as Grace about tonight, telling her about the events that had been planned for this evening.

  She took the opportunity to introduce the child to Tori and Lyssa, and the three exchanged greetings.

  “So where is Brian?” the little girl pressed Julie as she scanned the crowd.

  “He’s supposed to be buying me some lunch.” She looked around the ever-growing mob for her brother. Then realizing that Grace wasn’t with an adult, she asked, “Where’s your father? You shouldn’t be on your own. There are too many strangers on the rez today.”

  “I’m staying with Great-granddaddy today,” she told Julie. Her little chest seemed to puff out as she added, “My dad is working. It’s a special day, so all the policemen, er, ah... women... um... all the police people...”

  Grace paused in her explanation, clearly flum­moxed by what she wanted to say and the inadequate words that were coming to her mind.

  “You mean officers?” Julie suggested.

  The girl’s gaze lit up at the non-gender-specific de­scription. “Yes!” she pronounced. “All the officers have to work today. And my dad is the boss of every single one of them.”

  The three women shared a smile at the child’s pride in her father. Grace’s face beamed even brighter when the very man she’d just been speaking of approached the group.

  “What are you doing, young lady?” Mat chided his daughter. “You’re supposed to be with your great-grandfather. He’s standing over by the ice-cream booth and he’s worried about where you ran off to.”

  The expression on Grace’s face was filled to the brim with innocence. “I was just saying hello to Ms. Dacey.”

  “Well, you need to tell someone where you’re going before you go off, do you understand?”

  Grace kicked at the sidewalk. “Okay, I will. I promise.” Her tone was apologetic. “I’ll go let Great-granddaddy know I’m okay.”

  “Hold on,” Mat said, snagging Grace’s hand before she could dart away from him. “Stay with me just a minute and I’ll walk you over there.”

  The child sulked in silence and Mat turned his attention to Julie, Tori, and Lyssa.

  “Hey, Julie,” he said.

  Not missing the contrite quality in Mat’s voice, Julie hated that their relationship had evolved into this awkward mess.

  “Tori,” he said, nodding a pleasant greeting. Then he waited to be introduced to Lyssa.

  Tori didn’t disappoint him. “Mat, I’d like you to meet Lyssa. She’s going to be your brother’s saving grace. She’s a nurse, and I heard that a nurse is just what Dr. Dakota is looking for.”

  Mat grinned, evidently realizing that Tori was on a mission. “Nice to meet you, Lyssa.” Then he turned to Tori. “You can find Dakota at the medical tent. He volunteered his services today.”

  “Well, thank you for the information, Sheriff,” Tori said, grinning as she used his official title. She took Lyssa’s arm, but just as Julie thought the two women were going to take their leave, Tori turned back to Mat. “One more thing,” she said, her brow knitting with sudden concern, “I’ve seen a man on the far side of Misty Lake. Near my house, actually. I suspect he’s staying at the old hunting lodge. He’s not bothering me. He’s just... there. Do you know who he might be?”

  Mat was quiet for a moment. Then he leveled his dark eyes on Tori’s face. “I’m sure everything’s okay. You don’t have anything to worry about. But I’ll look into it, Tori. I’ll go out there right away and check it out.”

  But Mat’s careful choice of words was an unmistakable indication to Julie that he knew more than he was willing to admit.

  “Thanks, Mat,” Tori said. “I do appreciate it. A woman living alone can’t be too careful, you know?” She tapped Lyssa on the shoulder. “Let’s go find the good doctor,” she told her friend. “We’re going to get you a job. Bye, Julie. See you around, Mat.”

  They waved as they stepped off the curb to cross the street.

  Curiosity got the best of Julie. “You know who it is, don’t you? The man Tori was asking about?” For a moment, she thought Mat might not tell her what she already knew was the truth. But then his lips pursed and he sighed.

  “It’s my cousin, Chay,” Mat said. “He’s been staying at the cabin. He’s, ah... laying low.”

  He didn’t want her asking any questions, Julie realized. So she didn’t. But her interest was truly piqued. Did he mean that his cousin was hiding from the law? Was the man in some kind of trouble? But how could Mat, the sheriff of Misty Glen, allow such a situation to develop or continue? Mat’s sense of right and wrong was stronger than that of anyone Julie had ever met, so that left her wondering if his cousin could have dropped out of sight for some other reason.

  Questions rolled through her head, but she could tell she’d get no answers from Mat.

  “Can we go find Great-granddaddy
now?” Grace tugged on her father’s arm.

  “Sure, honey. Let’s go.” Mat looked at Julie. “Would you like to walk along with us?”

  “I’d love to see Grayson,” she said, “but I promised Brian I’d wait here for him.”

  “But he was with my grandfather when I left him just a minute ago.”

  “Oh.” Julie shrugged comically at Grace. “Then I guess I should just come along with you, then.”

  “All right,” Grace said, “let’s go find my bestie Brian!” She danced in place. “It’s awful hard for me to keep still for very long.”

  Mat chuckled. “Yes, I know, little one. I sure do know that.”

  They had only walked a few steps when Grace grumbled, “I feel like I’m swimmin’ through a sea of knees and feet.”

  “Well, here,” Mat said, “maybe this will help.” He picked up his daughter and plunked her down on his shoulders.

  She squealed with glee. “I can see everything from up here, Dad.”

  “Careful, now,” he warned her. “Those aren’t doorknobs on the sides of my head. They’re my ears. And I’d like to keep them right where they are, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, Dad—” Grace giggled “—you’re funny.” After only a moment the child blurted, “Dad, how come I don’t look like you do?”

  Julie felt rather than saw Mat tense beside her, and both of them slowed their steps.

  “What do you mean, honey?” he asked Grace.

  “Well, I don’t look like the Kolheeks here on the rez,” she said without hesitation. “I don’t look like Great-granddaddy. Or Uncle Dakota. You and Uncle Dakota have straight black hair. So does most everyone else here. My hair’s all curly. Your skin is dark. Mine’s white... just like Ms. Dacey’s is.”

  Although Julie remained silent, she couldn’t stop her gaze from traveling to Mat’s face as she wondered how he would respond to his daughter’s in­quiry.

  He was quiet for a bit, and finally he softly said, “Grace, you’re the image of your mother. You have her hair. Her eyes. You even have her laugh.” Reaching up, he patted her reassuringly on the knee. “You and I don’t need to have the same color skin or the same hair texture for me to be your dad. All we need is love for each other.”