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“I haven’t the slightest clue. I wish I did so I could get him to be more flexible when we need him to do something.”
Dianna rolled her eyes. “Not that again.”
“Not what?” he stammered.
“You’re trying to change Mathew into some other kid that he just isn’t. Have you ever considered that his autism isn’t what’s holding him back? It’s you and how you’re trying to fix him?”
His head reared back. Once again, she’d managed to make him look like the bad guy. All his previous notions of her being the kind of woman he would want to have in his life dissipated. Even if he was still interested, there was no way she shared those sentiments. She saw him as the villain.
Tristan held up a finger and opened his mouth, but his words never came. Mathew barreled into the room holding sheets of paper, crayons, colored pencils, and any other art supply he’d managed to stash away in his suitcase. He lifted bright, excited eyes to Tristan and sat down beside Dianna eagerly.
It was moments like this when Tristanreallyhated the strange thoughts that continued to plague him. He had never intended on living alone for the rest of his life, but he’d also given up on ever finding someone who wasn’t scared off by Mathew’s quirks.
Dianna would have been the perfect candidate if she didn’t despise him so fully.
He spun on his heel and headed back toward the kitchen. He needed to keep his mind clear and off a certain woman who was currently sucking all the oxygen out of the air. His steps slowed when he heard her voice.
Tristan didn’t dare turn around for fear that she’d catch on that he had started to pay attention. Dianna’s soft humming would have put sirens out at sea to shame. The melody to the song “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” filled the small area. It was one of his favorite songs, and she hit every single note with perfect pitch.
As much as he knew he shouldn’t turn around, he couldn’t control himself. He had to look even if it meant that she stopped creating that beautiful music.
Dianna was crouched over her sheet of paper with a pencil in one hand. Mathew drew beside her, seemingly unaware of her angelic voice. And then there was Tristan, who was so fully captivated that he couldn’t even drag together two brain cells to do much of anything.
7
Dianna
Dianna probably should have headed home after the riding lesson. Or taken her chance to escape after walking Mathew home. She definitely shouldn’t have stayed to draw any pictures, because her sketch was beginning to look a lot like the man who was standing just a few feet away.
Oh goodness. What was going on with her?
She needed to keep her mind off the handsome man with the steady stare and those clear eyes. Quickly, she added more facial hair and a hat for good measure. There. Now the person with kind eyes and a soft smile staring back at her was none other than Santa Claus himself.
“Whoa.”
She jumped and stared wide-eyed at the little boy seated beside her. Did he just speak to her? Dianna sought Tristan’s gaze, finding him just as surprised where he stood in the kitchen. Mathew hadn’t appeared to notice her change of body language as he continued staring at the picture in front of her. “I didn’t know you werethatgood.”
Chills raced down her spine and along her arms. She’d been told that Mathew could speak and that he was very intelligent. It was strange to actually experience it. A part of her wanted to jump up and down, grab him and make him celebrate with her. Then on the other side, she worried if she made any sudden movements he’d retreat, bursting into flight like a scared pheasant.
She swallowed and nudged the paper closer to him. “You can keep it if you like.”
He looked up at her and smiled widely. “Can you draw Molasses next?”
Dianna let out a soft laugh. “I can sure try.”
Quickly, he snatched a fresh sheet of paper and held it out to her.
Feeling Tristan’s eyes on her, she chanced a peek in his direction. She had already overstayed her welcome. It wasn’t that she had anywhere to go. It was that she needed to get out of their hair so they could get started on dinner.
She gnawed on her lower lip and brought her gaze down to Mathew. “Would it be okay if I take this home and bring it back tomorrow? We’ll do some more reading, and if you’d like, we can draw some more.”
His features scrunched up and his focus bounced to his father. “But I want her to stay.”
As much as it warmed her that Mathew had grown fond of her so quickly, Dianna didn’t feel the same sentiment from his father. There was a definite tension that continued to hang in the air whenever they were in the same room. Maybe it was the way she was a bit over opinionated about the expectations he put on Mathew’s treatment outcomes. Or maybe he just didn’t like anybody that much.
There was something about him that got to her. She wouldn’t describe it as being uneasy. It might have more to do with the fact that despite all the irritating things he’d said, she could tell he was a good dad doing the best he could.
Not many men would stick around in the first place, and Tristan had done more than that. He’d taken on raising Mathew all on his own.
