Single Dad Sheriff (Harlequin American Romance) by LISA CHILDS Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t just lying to her son; she was probably lying to herself, too, if she actually believed that.
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    T OMMY STARED at the couple standing on the sidewalk outside the door. His mom looked pretty and really young, just like some of the girls on the bus when she smiled brightly like she was now. And the sheriff looked tall, and a little mean, with his eyes all serious and his jaw real hard-looking. But then he walked through the door and smiled at Tommy.
    And Tommy’s stomach flipped with nerves and a rush of hope and maybe the flapjacks his mom had made him that morning. Too bad the sheriff wasn’t his dad. But if he was, he would have said something when Tommy told him who he was looking for.
    Was he trying to find Tommy’s dad like he’d promised? Or had Mom talked him out of it? Maybe that was why she’d wanted to get rid of Tommy and speak to the sheriff alone.
    He rushed forward and grabbed the man’s big hand, pulling him toward the baseball stuff in the middle of the cluttered sporting goods store. His mom would have had a fit if he’d kept his room as messy as the store was. Stuff overflowed crates and was falling off the shelves. With his free hand, Tommy grabbed a glove and held it out to the sheriff. “See if it fits.”
    Sheriff Drayton pulled his hand away from Tommy’s and slid it into the glove. “It’s a little snug for me,” he said. “Probably would be big for you, though.”
    â€œHe already has a glove,” his mom said. “I’m not sure why he thinks he needs another one. But then I knownothing about baseball, at least not enough to give him the ’pinion he wants about the glove.”
    â€œI was the catcher on my high school team, and we were undefeated,” Sheriff Drayton said with a grin. “But that seems like a long time ago now.”
    â€œCatcher,” Tommy said. That dream he’d been having about playing catch with his dad became a little clearer than it usually was. Instead of throwing a ball at a shadow, the guy had a face. It was Chance Drayton’s.
    The sheriff picked up another glove from the table and slid his hand into the leather. Then he scooped up a ball and chucked it hard—like so hard it would have stung Tommy’s hand—into the glove. “This one feels good.”
    â€œI’ll buy that one, then,” Tommy said, shoving his hand in his pocket for the roll of bills and the bunch of coins he’d taken from his broken piggy bank.
    â€œBut it’ll be way too big for you, for at least a few more years,” the sheriff said as he tugged off the glove.
    â€œIt’s not for me,” Tommy explained. “It’s for my dad.”
    â€œYour dad?” His mom’s voice went all squeaky like Christopher’s did.
    â€œYeah, the sheriff promised to find him,” Tommy reminded them both. “When my dad comes here to see me, I wanna have a glove for him, so we can play catch like Christopher and his dad do.”
    The sheriff sighed. “Tommy…”
    His mom held up a hand as if to stop the man from saying anything else. “I’ve got this.” She crouched down so that her face was level with Tommy’s. “The sheriff is not going to find your dad.”
    â€œI knew it.” Tommy’s voice cracked and it was hard to swallow. “I knew you told him not to.”
    â€œI shouldn’t have offered,” the sheriff said. “I should have talked to your mom before I made that promise.”
    His mom glanced up at the sheriff with a brief smile. “It’s a promise he can’t keep, honey. But you don’t need a dad. You and I have been doing great these last eight years—just the two of us.” She straightened up and reached for the gloves on the sporting goods table. “I can get one of these. I can play catch with you.”
    â€œNo,” Tommy snapped. “I don’t wanna play