The Matchmakers' Daddy (Bayside Bachelors #4) Read online

  “But you said one day we were going to have a house with a yard. Remember, Daddy?”

  Yes, he remembered. But he had to get a sizable down payment first. “That’s quite a way off. But I’ll keep the pony in mind, all right?”

  “Okay.”

  Grandma bent forward, her gnarled hand reaching out to gently touch Emily’s shoulder. “Mrs. Jessup, the lady you met last time, asked if you would draw a picture for her so she can put it on the wall in her room. She used to be a schoolteacher, and since she doesn’t have any children of her own, she misses not seeing artwork.”

  “I’m a very good colorer,” Emily said. “I’ll make a whole bunch of pictures for you and your friends.”

  “We’d love that, sweetheart.” Grandma reached for a strand of Emily’s white-blond hair, which was beginning to fall free of her Hello Kitty barrettes. “What pretty hair clips. Mrs. Andrews, the woman who lives down the hall from me, makes colorful bows for her granddaughters. And I’ve asked her to make some for you, too.”

  “Me and Mommy like bows and ribbons. I’d better make a picture for Mrs. Andrews, too.” Emily blessed her great-grandmother with another smile.

  “That would make her very happy.”

  Zack pulled out one chocolate shake, poked in a straw and handed it to his grandma.

  “What a nice surprise, Zack. I love chocolate.”

  His grandmother used to make fudge at Christmas for people around town—the mailman, the woman at the beauty shop who did her hair, among others.

  Zack would give anything to see her in the kitchen again, humming to herself and offering him a taste of homemade treats.

  “We like chocolate, too,” he told her. “Don’t we, Em?”

  His little girl nodded as he placed a straw in her shake and handed it to her. He’d probably have to finish hers, but that was okay.

  “How’s the new job working out?” his grandma asked.

  “It’s coming along all right. I’ve been on my own this past week, and Bob seems pleased with my progress. It’ll be nice when they start moving in the other equipment on Monday.”

  “It must have been lonely working alone.” His grandmother smiled. “Even for a loner like you.”

  “It’s not too bad. There are a couple of little girls that have befriended me.”

  “What does befriended mean?” Emily asked.

  “They saw me working near their yard and decided to wave and make friends with me.”

  Emily smiled and a drop of chocolate dribbled down her chin. “What are their names?”

  “Becky and Jessie. They’re nice girls.” They had a nice mom, too. But he didn’t see any point in mentioning that.

  “Can I play with them someday?” Emily asked. “Please?”

  Her question took him aback. The girls would probably get along great, but since he had what he considered an inappropriate attraction to Becky and Jessie’s mother, he’d decided to avoid contact with them—if possible.

  “Maybe someday,” he told her, although he hoped she didn’t hold him to it. “I don’t see them very often.”

  And he didn’t see Emily very often, either.

  They continued to chat with Grandma Nellie for a while, then after wheeling her back inside and promising to see her again next Sunday, Zack and Emily said goodbye and headed for the car.

  It had been a great day, but it had ended all too soon. It was time to take his daughter home.

  Then it would be seven days before he would see her again. That was a long time, he realized.

  Even for a loner like him.

  “Hey, Henderson.”

  Zack, who sat with the crew in the shade of the water tower eating lunch, turned to Eddie Avila, a scraper hand who’d been a member of Local 12 for years and had just hired on with the company.

  Eddie nodded toward the wall, where Becky and Jessie peered over the top. The youngest girl wiggled her fingers in a wave directed at Zack.

  “Fan club?” Eddie asked.

  “Yeah. I guess so.” He waved back at the girls, as he continued to munch on one of the bologna sandwiches he’d made.

  “Zack?” the older girl called. “Can we ask you something?”

  “Sure.” He stood and carried his uneaten sandwich with him to the wall. “What’s up?”

  “Do you know anything about washing machines?” she asked.

  Just that they needed a whole lot of quarters to work. “Not really. Why?”

  “’Cause water leaked out of ours and the whole house is flooded,” little Jessie said.

  “Not the whole house,” her older sister explained. “But now Mom will have to wash our clothes at the Laundromat until she can have somebody come out and fix it.”

  “What about calling the landlord?” Zack asked.

  “We can’t do that,” the older girl said. “We don’t have to pay very much in rent, but we have to fix everything ourselves. That’s the deal.”

  “Yeah,” Jessie added. “That’s the deal.”

  “Mrs. Tomasino, who owns our house, is very old,” Becky explained. “And she goes to our church. Because our mom works there and Mrs. Ashton is the one who keeps track of the money and writes all the checks, Mrs. Tomasino lets us and Mrs. Ashton live in her two houses. I think she does it instead of putting money in the offering plate. It’s part of the deal.”

  Zack still wasn’t exactly sure what they were talking about. But apparently, the washer was on the blink and Diana was responsible for fixing it. “Maybe, after work, I can come by and look at it for you.”

  “That would be way cool,” Becky said.

  “Hey, you guys!” a young, female voice called from the backdoor. “Get down and come in the house now.”

  “Uh-oh,” Jessie said. “That’s Megan. We better go, or we’ll get in trouble.”

  Zack was glad the sitter seemed to be keeping a better eye on them this week. He supposed she wasn’t sick anymore.

  “Be careful,” Zack told them.

  “We’ll see you later,” Becky said, as she jumped down and followed her sister to the house.

  He popped the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, then headed back to the guys sitting in the shade.

  “Do any of you know anything about washing machines that leak?” he asked.

  “Could be the pump,” Dan Holbrook said.

  “My brother-in-law has an appliance repair shop on Hampshire Boulevard,” Eddie added. “If it’s too tough for you to figure out, you can give him a call.”

  “Who are those kids?” Hank Crandall, the water truck driver, asked. “Did they rope you into fixing their washer?”

  “I didn’t get roped into anything,” Zack said, hoping the guys bought his story. “They just mentioned their laundry room is flooded. And I agreed to take a look. That’s all.”

  “Where’s their old man?” Hank asked.

  “Dead.”

  “And their mom?”

  What was this, the third degree?

  “At work. She’s a nice lady, and if I can fix the damn thing and save her a couple of bucks on the repair, I don’t mind helping out.”

  “Ohhh…” Dan said, drawing out the response sagely. “I get it.”

  “Get what?” Zack asked.

  A couple of guys laughed.

  “What’s their mom look like?” Eddie asked.

  “Just like a regular mother,” Zack lied. “You know what I mean.”

  “No. Suppose you tell us,” Eddie said, with a chuckle.

  Oh, for cripes sake. “She’s got plain brown hair—not too long, not too short. And she’s about average in height. Nothing to shout about.” Zack took a long swig of lemonade, then screwed on the lid.

  Hell, what was he supposed to tell the guys? That Diana’s hair was the shade of honey in the sunlight? That her eyes glimmered like emeralds? That she had a dynamite shape and a smile that could knock the breath right out of a man?

  Yeah. Right. He’d never live that down.

  He wrap
ped up the rest of his sandwich, tossed it into his insulated lunchbox and headed back to his dozer.

  His days had passed a hell of a lot better when he’d been working alone.

  At 12:10, Diana sat before the computer screen in the church office, typing out a letter for Reverend Morton. She planned to break for lunch as soon as she was able to secure his signature, address an envelope and attach a stamp.

  The knob turned, the door swung open and Martha Ashton walked in. “Why, hello, Diana. I thought you’d be at lunch already.”

  “I’ll eat in a few minutes. I need to finish what I’m doing, so I can get this in the outgoing mail before the postal worker arrives.”

  “I brought in the deposit slip for this week’s offering,” Martha said. “It was a little on the low side. But then again, it’s summer and a lot of the congregation are on vacation.”

  The telephone rang, and Diana answered, “Park Avenue Community Church.”

  “Mrs. Lynch, it’s me, Megan.”

  The baby-sitter.

  Diana gripped the receiver a little tighter than necessary. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes and no. I was trying to wash a pair of my pants, since I’m going to meet my friends at the mall after you get here and didn’t have time to do it before I left home. And then the stupid washer sprang a leak and flooded out the laundry room. I shut it off, but gosh, my jeans are so wet, they’ll probably never dry.”

  Megan’s jeans were the least of Diana’s concerns. How was she ever going to get by without a washing machine until she could afford a repairman?

  “Becky and Jessie went outside and asked that construction guy if he knew anything about washing machines. You know, that tall, dark hottie who drives the bulldozer and fixed your car?”

  Yes, she knew who the girls had asked.

  Zack.

  “Yeah, well, he told them he’d come over after work and look at it,” the teenager said.

  “I wish they hadn’t asked him to do that,” Diana said.

  “Want me to tell him not to bother?”

  Yes and no. Diana was uneasy around the man. Not in a bad way, mind you. But in an I’d-rather-not-deal-with-the-hormones way.

  Yet she needed to get the washer repaired.

  “Don’t bother telling him anything, Megan. I’ll take off early today. Maybe I can get it fixed before he gets there.” She’d learned to replace the valve in the toilet tank and to unstop the sink. She supposed she could give the washer a try. She just hoped she wouldn’t need to buy a new one. Her budget would only stretch so far, and she’d rather go to church in her worn flannel nightgown and slippers than have to swallow her pride and ask her dad for help.

  “I cleaned up the water,” the sitter added.

  “Thank you, Megan.”

  “And I put my jeans in the dryer, although it’s going to take forever. They’re sopping wet.”

  “Try adding a couple of towels to help the dryer work more efficiently,” she suggested.

  “Okay.”

  Diana blew out a weary sigh. “Listen, Megan. I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll talk to you when I get home.”

  When Diana hung up the phone, Martha eased closer. “What was that all about? Did something go on the blink again?”

  “The washer is leaking.” Diana sat back in her chair. “I guess Zack, the guy who runs the bulldozer on the construction site, is going to come look at it after work.”

  Martha furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s something about that man—in spite of his good looks. And even though I can’t put my finger on what it is, it’s unsettling.”

  Martha Ashton, with her vivid imagination, ought to try her hand at writing a novel.

  Yet even Diana had to acknowledge that Zack had a wariness about him. A hardness. Like Travis, the Texas bad boy who’d nearly led her astray.

  But Zack had a gentle side, too. She’d seen it. And so had the girls.

  “You can’t judge a person by his or her appearance, Martha.”

  “You’re too trusting, dear. I worry about you, what with trying to raise those kids alone. And with no husband to look out for you.”

  Once upon a time, Diana had learned the hard way that having a man around the house didn’t guarantee happiness.

  Over the past thirty years of her life, she’d gone from being someone’s daughter to someone’s wife. And somehow, along the way, she’d nearly lost her own identity. Her freedom. Her sense of worth.

  And when push came to shove, she’d learned that it was best to only depend upon herself.

  So finding another husband was at the bottom of her list of priorities, right after scrubbing the toilet with a brand-new toothbrush.

  “I’m perfectly happy without a man in my life, Martha. After I get the bulk of my work done today, I’m going to ask Reverend Morton if I can leave early. Then I’ll go home and take a look at that washer. If I can get it running again, I’ll thank Zack for his offer to fix it and send him on his way. Then I’ll sit the girls down and ask them not to run to him each time there’s a problem at the house.”

  “It’s just so sad,” Martha said. “A pretty young woman like you should have a man in her life. That way, you wouldn’t have to work outside the home.”

  “I’m happy to be single. Truly.” Diana flashed her a sincere smile. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d better get back to work, especially if I want to take off early today.”

  But she wasn’t able to leave the office until three forty-five. And by the time she pulled onto Shady Lane, there was an old Camaro parked in front of her house. Once a popular and sporty car, three decades had left it in need of a makeover.

  And apparently, that’s what the owner had in mind. There’d been some bodywork done. And splotches of gray primer had been splashed on to what appeared to be the original black paint.

  Was that Zack’s car?

  If so, it bore a rough edge, too—just like he did.

  And just like Travis had, those many years ago.

  In spite of her best intentions, a sense of unwelcome anticipation settled over her, and her heart rate slipped into overdrive.

  Martha’s warning came to mind, and Diana’s internal radar began to bleep and buzz out a warning.

  But not out of fear of Zack.

  Instead, it was her own visceral response that had her concerned.

  Damn. The temptation alone was enough to make a preacher cuss and run for the hills.

  But before she could gather her thoughts, Becky opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

  “Good news, Mom! Zack fixed the washing machine. Shouldn’t we invite him to dinner again?”

  Chapter Five

  Oh, good grief.

  Zack had already fixed the washer.

  And Becky had practically invited him to dinner.

  There wasn’t any way Diana could gracefully tap dance around those two facts, so she trudged up the steps and entered the house. She hadn’t gotten both feet inside, when Zack came into the living room, as big and gorgeous as you please, a crooked smile pasted on his face that made a single dimple in his cheek.

  “I wasn’t sure if I could fix it or not,” he said, blue eyes twinkling. “But it was a slam dunk.”

  “It was?”

  “Yep.” His rebel smile shot straight to her heart, triggering a wacky disturbance in the course of her already zooming pulse.

  “That’s good news.” And it was, although if truth be told, it seemed as though it had been a long time since things had gone right in her world.

  “Come on. I’ll show you, just in case it happens again.” He turned and walked through the small dining room, into the kitchen and out to the laundry room.

  Diana followed, unable to do much of anything else, except marvel at his size, his broad back.

  Dark hair, long and a bit unruly, curled at the nape of his neck. It was clean. Shiny. And, she suspected, soft to the touch.

&nbs
p; “You see that?” He pointed behind the washer to a black hose that was inserted into a pipe in the wall. “That’s how it drains. But for some reason, the hose had come loose, so when the water was pumped out, it went all over the floor.”

  “You mean there’s nothing wrong with the washing machine itself?” she asked, fingers mentally crossed.

  “Not that I can tell.”

  “That’s a relief.” She sent him an appreciative grin, while trying to still the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. “Thanks for taking time to look at it.”

  “No problem.”

  As they stood transfixed in the dinky room, the appliances seemed to disappear, leaving just a man, a woman and a flurry of pheromones bebopping through the air.

  Sexual awareness, at least on her part, was enough to take her breath away.

  She found it difficult to think of a response, without her mind taking off in all kinds of crazy directions. And her thoughts weren’t the only things straying. She couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from wandering the length of him.

  How tall was he, anyway?

  Six foot five or six?

  He had an athlete’s build—like a professional football player. For a moment, her thoughts took her back in time, when a spellbound teenage girl climbed on the back of a motorcycle, holding on tight to the bad boy who’d offered to take her on a wild ride.

  A trip that had been a big mistake.

  Her gaze locked on Zack’s, yet she didn’t speak, didn’t move.

  She didn’t know what kind of man he was. Just because he held that same kind of blood-racing appeal that Travis once had didn’t mean their characters were the same.

  Zack crossed his arms, biceps flexing and stretching the sleeves of his T-shirt. He stood there, his gaze zeroed in on hers.

  Why wasn’t he moving?

  Oh, for Pete’s sake. She was blocking the doorway. What did she expect him to do, pick her up and bodily move her out of the way?

  “Well,” she said, wiping her hands against her hips and stepping aside. “I don’t know how to thank you for coming to our rescue. Again.”

  He shrugged, tossing her another lopsided, single-dimpled grin.

  “Can Zack stay for dinner?” Becky asked from the doorway.