All the Good Men
by Cindy Jacks
Blurb: Dahlia ‘Dahli’ Foster is sure the hackneyed platitude is true: After a certain age, all the good men are married or gay. Her best friend and her sisters dare her to put her fate where her mouth is. The terms of the challenge? During the month of October, she has to end her five-year-long ‘man fast’ and go on dates with men of their choosing. Oh, and she has to go out with anyone else who asks.
As the date disasters pile up, the vindication almost makes the torturous evenings bearable for Dahlia. But when a handsome new neighbor and retired firefighter, Jackson Carmichael, throws his hat in the ring, he might be the man to prove her wrong…that is if she doesn’t scare him away first
Excerpt:
Skipper's, McGrady's, the Dew Drop Inn. Dahlia didn’t find her father at any of his regular hangouts. As a last ditch effort, she drove home, hoping to find him there. No such luck.
She called Beck. “Hi, it’s Dahlia. I haven’t found him, but if for some reason he turns up at the VFW, please give me a call.”
“Will do, ma’am. Again, I can’t tell you how sorry I am he got away from me.”
“No, no. It’s not your fault. I felt like I should’ve stayed home with him, but with all the orders at work—” The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. “Beck, there’s someone here. I’ll call you back.”
As she clamped the cell phone shut its hinge snarled in a lock of hair. Dahli tugged at the accursed thing as she trotted to the front door. When she opened it, Dahlia abandoned her efforts to disentangle the phone. There stood her father, soaking wet, draped against the shoulder of a man she’d never seen before.
“Hi.” The stranger flashed an apologetic smile. “Does he belong to you? I feel like I've seen him pruning the hedges out front.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps if she blocked out the image of her piss-drunk father long enough, he might disappear. Opening one eye she found she’d had no such luck.
“Yes, I’m so sorry. Where did he wind up, Mr…?”
“Carmichael. Jackson Carmichael. I found him floating in my koi pond.”
“Oh, good Lord. I’m really sorry. We’ll pay for any damages.” Dahlia reached for her dad, but Jackson scooped up the old man using a fireman’s carry.
“Not to worry. I’m just glad I found him when I did. Is it okay to set him on the couch?”
“Please. I’ll get some towels.” She hurried from the room if only to hide her flaming embarrassment. Upon return, she made a vain attempt to blot up the water that pooled around the passed out lump she usually called Dad.
“Thank you, Mr. Carmichael. I can’t apologize enough. Daddy’s a bit of a handful.”
“No apology necessary, but may I…?” He reached out a hand.
“Of course.” Dahli thrust a dry towel at him.
“No, no. I meant—” Jackson made a gentle twist and tug that freed the forgotten cell phone from her hair. “There you go.”
“Christ almighty. Lovely first impression I’ve made,” she said and shoved the phone in her pocket.
“Nah, no biggie.” He stripped off his shirt and dried himself. “I meant to come by to introduce myself a couple days ago, but I’ve been swamped trying to get settled.”
Though a half naked man in her living room—and a rather physically fit one at that—was a rare occurrence, Dahlia did her best to avert her eyes. “I’m sure Daddy and I have made you want to run for the hills.”
“Not at all, Ms…?”
“Foster, but please, anyone who finds my father in his fishpond can call me Dahli.”
“A pleasure,” he said and handed her the towel. “Thanks.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I’d love something, but I have to get back. Rain check?”
“Sure. Come by anytime.” But I won’t hold my breath...not that I blame you, she added silently. Dahli walked him to the front door, thanking him again. After closing the door behind Mr. Carmichael, she plodded into the living room to check on her father.
“Daddy,” she said to deaf ears and sank into the loveseat. “What am I going to do with you?”
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