The Nine-Dollar Daddy

by Day Leclaire

  Cassidy heard the squeak of the door closing behind her, followed by a familiar, rumbly voice addressing Hutch. Where had she heard that distinctive intonation before? she wondered. A customer? A fellow tenant? A teacher? Instead of waiting for her son’s return, she took a hesitant step forward and promptly tripped again. Strong arms closed around her—definitely not Hutch’s arms. He swept her upward and the bandanna caught on his shirt button, slipping downward a fraction of an inch. The narrow gap afforded her a tantalizing glimpse of the man who held her.

  He was impressively large, formed along the same lines as Texas—broad, bold and built to last. Taut sinew and lean, powerful muscles rippled along the ridged biceps beneath her palms as well as across the chest she was practically nuzzling. She dug her nose out of its resting place, but not before a clean, earthy scent filled her nostrils. Heavens to Betsy, but as they’d say back home...the man had a nice stink hanging on him.

  He wasn’t as handsome as Hutch’s dad, Cassidy conceded. But then, Lonnie’s good looks had only served to disguise the shallow person beneath. This man’s features were blunt and distinctive, drawn with strong, sweeping lines. No question. He was all man, while Lonnie had been a boy when they’d first met and a boy when they’d last parted.

  Easing her gaze upward, she found herself staring into the most intriguing pale green eyes she’d ever seen. They gathered her up, impaling her as they dug down deep—searching for a clue to the self she kept tucked safely away. Slipping clear to her soul, came the disconcerting thought.

  Not safe, a warning voice rang in her head.

  She instantly overreacted, a regrettable personality failing she’d yet to correct. She wriggled from the man’s arms with more speed than grace, flailing for a brief instant as she fought to keep her limbs from tangling again. “Oops! Don’t tell Hutch I saw!” she whispered hastily, yanking her blindfold into place.

  She took another quick step backward, filled with an odd urgency to put as much distance between them as possible. She stumbled once more, still not quite secure in her footing. Instantly, his hand closed around her arm and she sensed the latent strength behind his hold.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Not safe, the warning voice shrieked—louder, in case she hadn’t heard clearly the first time.

  “Oh, hush up,” she muttered in exasperation.

  She never listened to those smart-alecky inner voices anymore. They always got it wrong, starting with the time they told her going to bed with Lonnie was a good idea and ending on the day they urged her to fight April Mae for the “honor” of keeping her selfish jerk of a husband. After that disastrous occasion, she realized these were dumb inner voices instead of the clever, instinctive ones most people got, so she’d refused to listen further. Not that they’d stopped handing out bad advice.

  “Excuse me?” Mr. Rumbly Voice said.

  Oops. “Sorry. I wasn’t talking to you. I was having a small personal argument.”

  “Uh-huh. You do that a lot?”

  “No,” she lied cautiously. “I was just arguing with myself. Everybody does it.” She swept her arm through the air to indicate a whole horde of everybodies. The back of her hand connected with a resounding crack. Carefully, she lowered her arm and grabbed a gulp of air. When would she learn to keep her various body parts under control? “That was you, huh?”

  “Yeah. That was me.”

  She swallowed at the tight tone. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget that I’m longer than I feel.” She lowered a corner of the blindfold an inch, wincing at the bright red mark on Rumbly Voice’s cheek. “You see, I always wanted to be small and dainty. So in my head, my reach is only about twenty-two or -three inches instead of—” She broke off at his incredulous expression.

  “Oh, please,” he insisted, “don’t stop there.”

  Cassidy sighed. Why did people always look at her like she was crazy when she explained this? False body images were very common. They also caused a person to be a bit of a klutz, a fact she went out of her way to demonstrate with disgusting regularity. She cleared her throat. “I forget my reach is twenty-six inches instead of twenty-three. It’s those extra three inches that hit you.”

  “I see. In that case, I’ll make sure I stay clear of them.”

  And stay clear of you, he might as well have said. Like she hadn’t already realized that. “Don’t worry. I’ll save you the trouble.” She yanked the blindfold back into place. “Hutch?” she called. “Where are you, sweetpea?”

  “Right here, Mom. Bring her in,” Hutch added, apparently addressing ol’ Rumbly Voice. “Willie’s ready to run the form.”

  “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Relax, Ms. Lonigan.”

  Probably afraid if she tensed up, she’d haul off and slug him again. A distinct possibility, she wanted to warn. All her life she’d struggled to project the image of a graceful Southern belle, like her Aunt Esther. To be small, dainty and gardenia sweet. To her dismay, she’d ended up tall and klutzy, with an unfortunate tendency to speak her mind, forgetting more often than not to lace it with the prerequisite honey. No steel magnolia was she. But, oh, how she longed to be.

  “I’m relaxed,” she assured him. “But I wouldn’t object if you explained what’s going on around here.”

  “Hutch has gone to a lot of trouble to set up this little surprise. I’m sure you don’t want to spoil it.”

  She caught the subtle warning at the exact same instant she recalled where she’d heard those deep, earthy tones before. Lord, she hoped she was wrong. “Ty?” she murmured apprehensively.

  “At your service.”

  Oh, crud. “I...I thought you were a friend of Hutch’s.”

  “I am.”

  Double crud. “But he told me... I thought—”

  “That I was a kid. Sorry about that.”

  He slid his hands behind her head and she kept carefully still. More than anything, she wanted to bolt. Instead, she held her ground, refusing to give in to ridiculous fears—not to mention a totally unwarranted attraction. She sniffed. It had to be his scent she found enticing because there sure wasn’t much else she found attractive. Well...other than his size and interesting eye color. Oh! And his voice. She had a weak spot for deep, rich voices. “What are you doing, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I think we can dispense with this now,” he replied, sweeping the blindfold from her face.

  Now that she knew his identity, she couldn’t resist staring at Ty. He was supposed to be a boy. He was supposed to be a friend of Hutch’s. Instead, he was blatantly male. Uncomfortably male. Thoroughly male. And he knew more about the intimate details of her life than any man of recent acquaintance.

  “Surprise, Mom,” Hutch announced, drawing her attention. “Happy birthday!”

  Relieved, she edged closer to her son. “What’s up?” she questioned lightly.

  For the first time, she realized there were others in the room besides her son and Ty. Next to Hutch stood a handsome, white-haired woman. Something about her bearing and looks suggesting a familial relationship with Ty. And off to one side hovered a man and woman, both watching her with uncomfortable intensity.

  The older woman stepped forward and offered her hand. “Welcome, Ms. Lonigan. I’m Willie Eden, owner of Yellow Rose Matchmakers. Your son has purchased our services for your birthday present.”

  Uh-oh. “What services?” Cassidy asked, fighting to conceal her apprehension.

  “We’re a dating agency.”

  Damn. She pasted a delighted smile on her mouth, praying Hutch couldn’t tell how horrified she was. “What...what a lovely surprise.”

  Beside her, Ty snorted softly. “Good save.”

  A flashbulb went off nearby and she blinked to clear her vision.

  “Keep smiling,” Ty warned beneath his breath. “They’re reporters.”

  “Whose idea was this?” she questioned between gritted teeth.

  “Your son’s.”
<
br />   That changed everything. A more natural smile crept across her mouth and she enveloped Hutch in a hug. “Thank you, sugar.”

  “You don’t mind, do you, Mom?”

  She ruffled his pale blond hair. “Of course not,” she lied gamely. “What a sweet idea. How in the world did you come up with it?”

  “I saw their ad in the newspaper. It’s the Yellow Rose agency, Mom. Get it? Yellow roses. And they use computers.”

  That explained Hutch’s interest—if not what prompted this little venture. “You don’t say. Computers, huh? I see why that would appeal. Very scientific.”

  “You can’t lose. Miss Willie’s gonna run your application now, and then we’ll find out who your date is.”

  The older woman lifted an eyebrow. “Are you ready?”

  Cassidy caught a hint of sympathy in Willie’s voice. Apparently, the owner had sensed her lack of enthusiasm. Had she fooled anyone other than Hutch? She slid a quick glance in Ty’s direction. Nope. Not likely she’d fool ol’ Rumbly Voice. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said with a wry smile.

  Willie walked to the computer and punched a series of buttons. A minute later, the laser printer began humming, spitting out an initial page. “Well, my goodness. Will you look at this. It’s found a ninety-nine percent match. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that happen on a first try before.”

  “Who is it?” Hutch demanded. “Is he your best one?”

  “A ninety-nine percent match suggests he’s an excellent candidate. Can’t get much better than that,” she confirmed.

  Hutch frowned. “I don’t know. There’s still that bad one percent. Could be a problem.”

  The next sheet scrolled out of the printer. “Okay. Here come the results. And the winner is...” Her eyes widened in dismay. “Oh, dear.”

  The reporter and photographer crowded closer, leaning over Willie’s shoulder. “What’s it say?” The reporter snatched the printout from Willie’s hands and frowned. “Ty Merrick. Wait a minute. I know that name....” Like a hound dog tripping over a hot scent, her nose twitched. She pivoted toward Ty, and Cassidy half expected her to start baying as she honed in on her prey. “Hey! That’s you.”

  “Willie! What the hell have you done?” Ty snatched the paper from the reporter’s grasp. “This can’t be. There must be a mistake.”

  Cassidy pinched the sheet from between his two fingers to give it a quick look-see. No doubt Ty was right and there’d been an error. These things happened, especially with mechanical oddities like computers. It probably didn’t say Ty Merrick at all. No doubt it listed a similar name like Rye Belleck or Sy Serrick or Tom Selleck. Hey! A girl could dream. Or maybe it wasn’t her profile they’d run. Sure as shootin’. That’s what must have...

  She read through the paper three full times before conceding defeat. Texan rancher Ty Merrick was a ninety-nine percent ideal match for waitress Cassidy Lonigan. How that was possible, she couldn’t quite figure. But there it sat, topping a full page of bewildering statistics, glaring at her in huge, bold, underscored black print.

  Crud.

  “There must be a mistake,” Ty repeated. “I’m not even in the damn computer.”

  Willie cleared her throat. “Actually, that’s not true. You see, we put you in there as a test case and I guess we forgot to take you out.”

  “Well, match her with the runner-up.”

  “There is no runner-up. Usually we have three or four close matches. But in this case, there’s only one. You.”

  Hutch grinned. “Happy birthday, Mom. I bought you him.” He pointed at Ty. “He’s your present.”

  Oh, joy. “Gosh darn it! That’s wonderful. I couldn’t be happier.” Not bad, she congratulated herself. Got that out without choking or being struck down by lightning. Amazing.

  Ty cut through the people separating him from his grandmother and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Excuse us for a minute. Willie? We need to talk.”

  “Can’t this wait?” she asked.

  Ty regarded her through narrowed eyes. For a woman who never got flustered, his darling grandmother sure as hell looked flustered. “I’m afraid it can’t.” Cupping her elbow, he marched her across the room. The instant they were out of the reporter’s hearing, he demanded, “What the hell do you mean, the computer chose me?”

  “Now, Ty, don’t get your knickers in a knot.” Her nervousness had dissipated, replaced with a more typical aggression.

  Ty folded his arms across his chest and fixed his grandmother with a cool gaze. “I don’t wear knickers, Willie. I never have.” The look she returned was every bit as cool as his. A genetic trait, he decided dryly. And an amazing recovery, in view of her earlier agitation. “Now explain how my profile showed up in your computer.”

  “You were a test case.” A thread of defensiveness shot through her voice. “We entered your data when we were first setting up the computer so we could do some trial runs. I thought you’d been deleted.”

  “But I wasn’t.”

  “No.”

  “Fine. Delete me now.” For the first time in his entire life, he saw Willie blush. It was quite a riveting sight considering her brash personality. Flustered... And now blushing. Something was going on. And come hell or high water, he’d get to the bottom of it. “Willie—”

  “I can’t delete you,” she stated bluntly.

  “I’m sure there’s a computer expert out there somewhere you can hire to remove the pertinent—”

  She waved his remark aside. “It just takes a push of a button.”

  “Then push it.”

  “I would except...” She sighed. “Ty, the reporter saw. She knows you’re Cassidy’s match. I can’t delete you now.”

  “Well, use one of the other names the computer gave you. There’s always three or four matches.”

  “Like I said. Not this time. You were the only one. A ninety-nine percent match at that.”

  He could practically hear the bone-fracturing sound of a steel-jawed trap snapping closed around him. “Mind explaining how this happened?” he questioned with admirable restraint.

  “I can’t say. But it did and there isn’t anything I can do to change it now.” She planted her hands on her hips and stared him down, her clear blue eyes oddly reminiscent of Hutch Lonigan’s. “I need you to date this woman.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “That’s your choice, of course. I can’t force you.”

  Hah! Why use force when a little grand-maternal guilt would work, as well? “What will happen to the business if I refuse?”

  She strove for a stiff-upper-lip sort of look. “Frankly, I’m not sure we could take the adverse publicity, especially after the incident with Wanda.”

  She didn’t pull her punches, and several blistering invectives burned the inside of Ty’s mouth, desperate to purple the air. He managed to bite them back. When he’d been a brash, unruly kid, pinched ears and soap mouthwashes had cured him of that youthful indulgence. Now that he was old enough to say what he pleased regardless of the consequences, he had too much respect for the woman who’d raised him to offend her with the salty edge of his tongue. “What would I have to do?”

  “Take her out on a few dates.”

  “How many?”

  “As many as it’ll take to satisfy her kid.”

  “That’s a tall order, Willie. I don’t think he’s someone easily satisfied.”

  His grandmother shrugged. “Maybe she won’t like you. Then you’ll be off the hook.”

  He shot her a sharp glance. “But you won’t. What happens if she doesn’t want me?”

  For the first time, a smile slid across Willie’s face. “You think that’s likely, boy?”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  “Right. And maybe the sun will rise in the west and set in the east.”

  “This isn’t going to work, old gal,” he said compassionately. “I’m not in the market for someone like Cassidy Lonigan. So either she’ll get hurt, the boy
’ll be hurt or your business will take the hit. I just don’t see this ending well, no matter how we handle it.”

  “There’s one possibility you haven’t considered.”

  “What’s that?”

  She peeped at him from the corner of her eye. “You might actually take a shine to this woman. She might be the one you’ve been waiting for all these years.”

  Ty shook his head. “You have a better chance of getting that western sunrise, sweetheart.”

  “All you have to do is kiss her. Then you’ll know for certain.”

  “Sure, Willie. Whatever you say.”

  He struggled to ignore the image of wary eyes—large gray eyes that darkened to pewter when outraged and lightened to silver whenever she looked at her son. To ignore the way a halo of hair so dark a brown it bordered on black, surrounded the prettiest face he’d seen in ages. To ignore long, trim arms and legs perfectly made to wrap around a man. What would it be like to kiss Cassidy Lonigan...assuming she didn’t kill him in the process? Would her kiss be as sweet as her voice? Or as painful as the back of her hand?

  “Will you do it?” his grandmother demanded in an undertone. “Will you take her out?”

  There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind. He’d do anything for Willie. “I’ll date her. But you have to run her profile again and see if there aren’t a few alternate candidates you can line up. This kid wants a dad. I’d like to see him get one.” He scrutinized Cassidy. “Although I suspect it’s going to be one hell of a tough sale.”

  “Mr. Merrick?” the reporter called. “Could we get a shot of you and Ms. Lonigan?”

  “I’d really rather not,” Cassidy began.

  “We won’t print the picture without your permission,” the reporter hastened to say. “But we were so intrigued by your son’s request, we thought it would make a great story for our readers.”

  “Don’t you like my present?” Hutch piped up, a trace of uncertainty edging his voice. “I bought him just for you.”

  It was the first hint of vulnerability Ty had ever seen the boy reveal. Striding across the room, he dropped an arm around Cassidy’s shoulders and drew her close. “I’m sure your mom is thrilled. She’s surprised is all.”