The Single Dad's Holiday Match

by Tanya Agler

  Brooke winced. Actually, she should have left while the getting was good. “It’s more like this one guy keeps popping up every time I least expect it.”

  “Is he cute?” Aunt Mitzi raised her voice over the small blow dryer. “Take Owen, for instance. He’s very cute, if I do say so myself. You can never go wrong with someone at your side. Makes life a little sweeter.”

  No sooner had she turned off the dryer than Tina nodded. “I’ve been married for over thirty years, and I’d still classify Drew as cute.” She faced Aunt Mitzi. “I think I’ll settle for getting my hair styled rather than cut today.”

  Aunt Mitzi guided Tina to her station, and Brooke started to slip away when her aunt met her gaze. “We may be a little nosy sometimes, but we care about each other.”

  Brooke pointed to the front door. “I won’t wait up for you.”

  “The dinner invitation for ropa vieja is always open,” Fabiana said from the next chair. “My son, Carlos, is visiting tonight from his outpost in Tennessee. Perhaps you’d like to join us.”

  She wasn’t quite ready for anyone to play matchmaker with her love life. Instead, she’d use tonight to work on new ideas for the center. “Thanks, but I don’t know what time Colin is due back from his white water rafting trip. I’d hate for my teenaged son to eat you out of your house.”

  “Dios mio. You’re the mother of a teenager? You look so young.” Fabiana waved her hand in front of her face. “Pay no attention to me. My gray streaks are on account of my husband’s and Carlos’s jobs as firefighters. If it weren’t for them, I’d still have all dark hair like yours.”

  Brooke grinned and stepped toward the center of the salon, now eager to make her escape. “Nice to meet all of you. I hope to see everyone at the community center sometime.”

  “If only there were more activities for mothers and daughters. I’d love to do something there with Graciela.” Fabiana moved, and Luanne nudged her shoulders.

  “You’ve got to stop wiggling so much or I’ll have to explain to my boss why one section of your hair is five inches shorter than the other.” Luanne waved her scissors around, and Fabiana stilled.

  Tina sighed as Aunt Mitzi combed out her hair. “I’d love a girls’ night out. I love Drew, but sometimes a night away from our cute guys makes us appreciate them all the more. I’d especially like to have something to take home afterward. Something like a beaded necklace or a painting.”

  “Wait a minute.” Brooke stepped back toward her aunt’s station. “Aren’t there any places in Hollydale that sponsor girls’ nights out?”

  Aunt Mitzi stopped combing and glanced back with a regretful shake of her head. “Not since Deana moved her art-glazing studio to Asheville.”

  “What if you could use the art space at the community center every other week and paint your masterpieces? Maybe one of you will be the next Georgia O’Keeffe.” Brooke snapped her fingers. “Mimosas and Masterpieces! With nonalcoholic champagne, of course, because it’s the community center.”

  Aunt Mitzi held the black comb an inch from Tina’s hair and laughed. “Sign me up. When we meet at my house, I’ll break out the real bubbly.”

  “Me, too.” Everyone turned toward Brooke with expectant gazes.

  Brooke shifted her weight. “I’ll present the idea at the next staff meeting.”

  “And maybe you’ll let me in on the identity of the cute guy.” Aunt Mitzi’s eyes sparkled as she brought out the flat iron. “You should ask him out to dinner tonight.”

  Except Officer Maxwell unnerved her too much. As it was, Mr. Whitley hadn’t been pleased at her calling him two days in a row to update him on the situation. The next months would fly by in the blink of an eye.

  And her last three dates had been disasters of the highest magnitude. They all fizzled like flat soda when she brought up work and Colin.

  There was no doubt Aunt Mitzi would pursue the answer at home, but Brooke would evade her. She and Colin were settling in just fine. She didn’t need anything else complicating her life.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DURING HIS SHIFT that ended in the wee hours of the morning, Jonathan had been called to the Timber River Bar and Grill at the edge of town. Mark Sandell, who owned the popular watering hole with his grandfather, turned over a fake ID that a server had confiscated. Mark hadn’t provided any new information, but at least Jonathan now had a third license in hand. This week he’d work on tracking down the teenager in the photo.

  But first, family time. Jonathan slammed his car door with Vanessa and Izzy following suit, and the smell of cotton candy brought excitement pumping through his veins. Soon his daughters might be too old for visits to Ike’s Pumpkin Farm, but he never would be. Fall was Jonathan’s favorite season because of weekends like these. They’d started this Sunday with a late pancake brunch at the Holly Days Diner after he caught a few hours of sleep, and now afternoon was upon them. Ike’s hayride was one of the season’s highlights, and the spring in his step was just what he needed after an exhausting week of work.

  “Dad.” Vanessa pulled on his jacket sleeve. “Izzy wants a big fat pumpkin, and I want a long thin one, and you said we’re only getting one.”

  Jonathan tried to push work out of his mind. Here he was complaining about working holidays and wanting that new detective position, and then he wasn’t even present when he did spend quality time with his daughters. If he didn’t watch it, he’d turn into his parents.

  Unless he already had.

  “We’ll know the right one when we see it.”

  This was the perfect place for that. All around were pumpkins of various shapes, colors and sizes. Even Izzy, who was speeding toward her teen years, showed more enthusiasm than usual.

  “Hey, Dad, there’s a field of green pumpkins and those are all white. Ooh. I changed my mind.” Vanessa jumped up and down and pointed to a patch near the back. “I want one with lots of warts. Those are cool.”

  She yanked his arm and dragged him that way, taking care to navigate around the crowds. He caught Izzy muttering something about him needing to buy tickets for the hayride, but she stayed on Vanessa’s heels. By the fence, a woman with her back to him had the same posture and figure as Brooke. Unlike the new director, this woman’s hair was loose and fell past her shoulders, a shiny curtain of dark brown that almost blended in with her burgundy belted coat.

  “Daddy! This one!” Vanessa went over and thumped her hand on the biggest pumpkin, one that had a good weight and stood two feet tall. “Wouldn’t it look great on our front porch?”

  “Um.” What was the word he was searching for? “No.”

  “Officer Maxwell, is that you? I almost didn’t recognize you out of your uniform.” The woman was now facing him. It was Brooke, and her cheeks reddened. “That came out wrong.”

  He smiled at the sudden unexpectedness of seeing her. “Just Jonathan. I insist.”

  “Well, Just Jonathan, who can resist when you put it like that? And who do you have with you?”

  “This is my younger daughter, Vanessa.” He threw his arm around her shoulder and then glanced around. He jerked his head for Izzy to come join them. “And this is Izzy.”

  She smiled and straightened to her full height. “Isabella. I insist.”

  “Isabella Grace. That’s no way to speak to a friend of mine.”

  Izzy’s eyebrow shot up, the exact same way Anne’s had whenever he’d done something that annoyed her.

  Brooke stepped forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isabella.” She pointed to a teenager who was texting. “Colin, meet some new friends of mine.”

  Colin looked up and shrugged. “Maybe later, Mom. Riley just arrived with her parents. Can I join them?”

  Brooke chuckled and met Jonathan’s gaze. “Seems our children are both surprising us.” She nodded. “Do you need any money?”

  Jonathan took a good
look at Brooke’s son. Tall and lanky? That sounded familiar. Colin shook his head and hurried away before Jonathan could make out more definable features, as Colin’s hoodie with a baseball logo hid the teen’s eyes from view.

  “Let me guess.” Brooke drew him out of his reverie. “Sixth grade for Vanessa and eighth for Isabella?”

  Vanessa giggled. “I’m in fifth, and Izzy’s in seventh cause she’s older.”

  “I work at The Whitley Community Center, and there are some great programs for girls your age.” Brooke had a way of talking with kids that Jonathan liked. She didn’t talk down to them or use a high-pitched, singsong voice. “Next month we’re launching Heartsgiving, a day camp during the week of Thanksgiving. I bet you’d both have a lot of fun.”

  The giggle monster apparently hadn’t finished with Vanessa yet. “You came to my school and told us all about it. I’m already signed up.”

  Izzy scuffed the dirt with her sneaker. “I’m old enough to babysit both of us. But yeah, I’m coming, too.”

  Jonathan blinked at the changes in his sweet daughter. He wanted to take Brooke aside and apologize for Izzy’s behavior. Instead, he glanced at the line for hayride tickets, which was longer now than when they’d arrived. “Have you ever been on one of Ike’s hayrides?”

  Brooke shook her head. “This is the first time I’ve been here. Ike promised some pumpkins for the center, and I wanted to get decorating ideas from a couple of the vendors.”

  “This is a beautiful fall day, too beautiful to only think about work. Whatever you do, don’t miss out on the hayride.” Before he knew it, they were all gathered at the back of the line. “This is my favorite part of the day.”

  Vanessa tugged at his shirt. “I thought the caramel apples were your favorite.” She rubbed her tummy and laughed. “Maybe that’s mine.”

  “What about you, Isabella?” Brooke’s hand moved as if to reach out to Izzy’s arm, but she pulled it back. “What do you like?”

  Izzy hesitated, a muscle flexing in her jaw, and Jonathan wondered what was coming over his daughter. She never acted like this around Lucie or Harriet or any other woman he knew. The silence continued for a moment before she scuffed the dirt again. “I guess I like picking out the baby pumpkins. Dad lets us make a display on our mantel.” She sniffed the air, a little of that Izzy spirit coming back. “And funnel cakes.”

  The aroma of powdered sugar and oil caught in the breeze, and his stomach rumbled, brunch now a distant memory. He pulled out his wallet. “I can see the booth from here, and the line’s not too long. Why don’t you and Vanessa buy one to share and one for me? If they have one with apples on top, that’s the one with my name written on it.” He glanced at Brooke. “Care for one? My treat.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m saving myself for a slice of pumpkin bread. Thanks anyway.” Her eyes twinkled in bemusement. “Besides, I normally take a few bites of something sweet and Colin polishes off the rest. I wouldn’t know what to do with a whole funnel cake to myself.”

  Izzy snatched the twenty out of his hand while Vanessa blew him a kiss. They rushed to the line, and Jonathan kept a lookout before he transferred most of his attention back to Brooke. From the looks of the line ahead, he and Brooke would know everything about each other before they reached the ticket seller.

  That didn’t bother him one bit.

  “The wait is worth it, but if there’s somewhere else you want to be...”

  “Isabella would have preferred I stay back with the green pumpkins. All things considered, I’d say they’re used to having you to themselves.” Brooke stuck her hands in her coat pockets. “I gather you’re a single parent, too?”

  They moved ahead by two steps. “Didn’t I talk about them before now? People have been known to run when they see me coming. Otherwise I tend to put them to sleep with the stories of the two of them or the myriad of pictures I have on my phone.”

  Brooke chuckled, and then her face took on a more serious expression. “Isabella is rather protective of you.”

  He smiled at the tactful way she phrased Izzy’s behavior. “She has more memories of her mom, but Vanessa was only five when Anne died.”

  Sometimes it seemed most days passed in a blur, whereas the nights tended to drag without having someone who laughed at his corny jokes and kept the bed warm when he climbed in after a long shift. For the first couple of years, the grief over losing Anne left him tossing and turning. Now he was no longer sure whether he stayed awake some nights missing Anne or the warm haze of what they shared.

  “Good memories from the sound of it?”

  “The best. Anne was everything to me. The way you said that, though. Can you relate to what Izzy and Vanessa have been through?”

  “My mother passed away a while back.” Her lips pursed into a line until one side curled upward. “It’s been just Colin and me since the beginning. Maybe that’s a reason he’s defensive of me, although you wouldn’t guess that from a couple of minutes ago. I see the same in Isabella. She’s looking out for you in the best way she knows how, and that means keeping her father close.”

  He laughed as they stepped onward to the ticket booth. “Is that a nice way of saying she’s jealous?”

  Before Brooke could answer, Vanessa and Izzy returned with two funnel cakes, along with extra plates and forks. “Ms. Novak, you can have some of mine.” Vanessa cut off a piece of hers and shared it as they arrived at the front of the line.

  “Can you hold this for me?” he asked. “I’m definitely not done with it.” She nodded at his request, accepting his plate in her left hand while holding her plate in her right. He smiled his thanks. “Despite your protests, I know the funnel cake will be hard to resist, just like me, so I’d like for your first hayride to be my treat.” He sensed hesitation in the set of her shoulders. “As a welcome to Hollydale.”

  She chuckled. “I’ll grant you’re persuasive with classic lines like that, so thank you. Can you purchase one for Colin? I’ll pay you back.”

  He bought the tickets, stuffed the change in the tip jar and exchanged the tokens for his plate, knowing full well he wouldn’t accept payment later. They walked over to the picnic tables. A group of four left as they arrived. Izzy and Vanessa flanked him, while Brooke sat on the other side by herself.

  He whispered in Izzy’s ear, “Why don’t you move over to Brooke’s side?”

  Izzy stabbed a piece of her funnel cake with her fork, stony silence his answer.

  Vanessa tapped his shoulder. “Daddy, do you mind if I sit with Miss Brooke?”

  He wanted to hug her but nodded instead. They soon finished the snack and found themselves in the hayride line. He waved to several people and introduced them to Brooke while ignoring the daggers coming from Izzy’s eyes.

  Did he want Brooke’s friendship? Or did he want more? Izzy wouldn’t respond this way if she didn’t sense something brewing between him and the attractive brunette. Still, it was too soon for anything romantic. He caught himself. Too soon since he’d met Brooke or too soon after Anne’s death? Five years alone with only a few casual dates was a long time. Apparently, Izzy felt it wasn’t long enough.

  Brooke elicited a promise from the people behind them to come visit the improved community center. Then she craned her neck over Izzy’s shoulder. “I texted Colin a couple of minutes ago that we bought him a ticket for the hayride and to meet us in line. He said they’re on their way, but I don’t see him.”

  Jonathan looked in the opposite direction and saw a young couple, hands locked together, heading their way. “He’s about six feet, a gray hoodie and blue jeans, right?” Although that seemed to describe half the male teenagers in the general vicinity.

  Brooke turned and waved. “Colin! Over here.”

  Brooke’s son reminded him of something related to his case. Colin’s gray hoodie with the logo of Jonathan’s favorite baseball team. H
e stepped into their circle with a teenage girl. He reached up and brushed his sandy brown hair out of his eyes, which could have been described as hazel or blue or gray, depending on the light.

  “Sorry we’re late. It took longer than I thought to buy Riley a ticket.” Colin turned to the people behind them. “Sorry, ma’am, but would you mind if Riley and I join my mom? It wouldn’t be right to cut in line without your permission.”

  The woman smiled at Brooke. “You and your husband are raising a fine gentleman.”

  “He’s not my brother, and that’s not my mother.” Izzy spoke up with more vehemence than he’d ever heard out of her before. He’d have to address this at home.

  The line moved again, and they climbed the steps to the boarding platform. Izzy somehow maneuvered it so the three Maxwells were on one side while Brooke was wedged between Colin and Riley on the other side of the wagon.

  He settled into the scratchy hay, a good amount cushioning his bottom. The fumes of the tractor’s diesel motor made him cough and overwhelmed the lingering apple and sugar aroma of the funnel cakes. The putt-putt of the motor became a low hum. With a rumble and a small jolt, they were off around the scenic perimeter of Ike’s Pumpkin Farm, with the Great Smokies a perfect backdrop.

  Brooke turned toward Riley. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you and your parents before yesterday’s white water rafting trip.”

  “If you’d like to meet them, ma’am, they’re here. My mom picks out six or seven pumpkins and a couple of hay bales for the front lawn. I hope you don’t mind that Colin’s already offered to help her load them in my father’s truck since my brother’s at basketball camp this weekend?” Riley’s soft voice barely reached their side of the wagon.