Once Upon a Matchmaker by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page B

sons, as well.
    His sons were everything to him. If they hadn’t been around, he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t have been, either.
    “You have any kids?” he asked her suddenly as he closed the door behind her.
    There it was, she thought, that small, sharp prick, the one that sought her out each and every time someone asked if she had children. You’d think by now it would begin to fade. Instead, at times it felt stronger than ever.
    I would have, but things just didn’t work out. I guess I’m just not supposed to have any.
    Out loud, Tracy said, “I’m not here to talk about me.” She wanted that to be the end of it, to close herself off to that part of herself, the part that always, always bled when the topic came up. But she couldn’t just block it out. There was this absolutely adorable pint-sized shadow next to her, following his father’s every move, being oh so serious about it and succeeding in being oh so adorable, as well.
    She grinned down at the little boy behind Muldare and thought back to the restaurant and her first impression of the duo. “But you seem to have struck the lottery with your two guys here. What’s your name?” she asked Gary.
    “Gary Muldare,” he told her both proudly and promptly. “The sick one’s Greg Muldare. He’s just four,” he added disparagingly.
    “Four’s not such a bad age,” she pointed out tactfully.
    “What’s your name?” Gary asked. It was obvious that he hadn’t heard her introduce herself to his father.
    Micah loved both boys fiercely, but there were times they made him think of puppies, all big paws and charging clumsily into places that they had no business going.
    “Gary—” Micah chided.
    Gary’s head bobbed up, a defensive protest already on his protruding lips. “You said I could talk if someone talked to me. Well, she’s talking to me.”
    Tracy did what she could to smother the laugh. “He’s got a point, you know, Dad. From now on, you’re going to have to watch how you word your instructions. Kids have a way of cutting straight to the chase.”
    Turning her attention back to the little man beside her client, she extended her hand to him just the way she had to his father. “Hi, I’m Theresa Ryan, but you can call me Tracy.”
    “Tracy,” he repeated, as if testing the name out on his tongue to see if he liked the sound of it. His brow scrunched as he tried to make sense out of what he’d just been told. “Is ‘Tracy’ your name, too?”
    “Tracy’s my nickname,” she explained. The look on his wide-open little face told her she’d made no headway in the explanation department. And why should she? she thought, suddenly realizing the problem. At his age, Gary probably didn’t know what a nickname was. “So, yes, it’s my name, too.”
    If Gary had ever been shy, he’d completely forgotten about those days. Taking her hand confidently in his, he said, “If you wanna see Greg, I can take you to him,” he volunteered.
    Micah gave his older son a look that was supposed to take the place of a reprimand. It didn’t work. So he tried a verbal restraint. “Gary, Ms. Ryan didn’t come here to visit—”
    “But a visit to a bedridden family member wouldn’t be entirely out of order,” Tracy said, interrupting. She wanted to get on Gary’s good side. It never hurt to have an ally, no matter how short, and something told her that having allies in this case might prove to be helpful. Children often said things that offered a different insight. “Where is your little brother?”
    “Back in bed. In his room. Being sick.” The answers came out like rapid gunfire before Gary slowed down. “He’s sick a lot,” the boy told her dramatically, ending with a deep sigh.
    Hollywood was missing one of its more talented actors, Tracy couldn’t help thinking, more amused than she’d been in a long while.
    She looked over her shoulder toward the boy’s father as Gary pulled her along in his wake, obviously taking her to