Dating a Single Dad. Kris Fletcher

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      For the first time since taking the floor, Taylor looked straight at Hank. It took him a second to grasp her meaning. But as every face in the room turned toward him, the lump of dread building in his gut told him he had interpreted her words correctly.

      “The hell I will.”

      Cash snorted. “And it finally speaks.”

      “Cash, leave your brother alone.” Ma drummed her fingers on the table. “You’re right, Taylor. It would make sense to provide housing. But wouldn’t she want to stay with you?”

      Millie sent her car zooming across the table. “Daddy says Auntie Taylor’s place is so small, you have to go outside to wipe your—”

      “That’s enough, Mills.” Time for another talk about boundaries. Judging from the look on his mother’s face, Hank was going to be on the receiving end of one himself.

      As soon as the laughter had died down, Dad piped up. “It’s up to you, Hank.”

      No way. Hank had spent his entire life playing catch-up—as a sibling, a husband, a father. This time he wasn’t going to be rushed into something on someone else’s timetable. He was already pushing himself to get the cabins in shape before tourist season kicked in. The last thing he needed was to have to drop everything else to prepare for Wonder Woman.

      “I’m not open yet.”

      “You’re not charging her,” Taylor pointed out. “It’s not like you have to be officially open and ready to roll.”

      “They all need painting. Most have holes in the roofs, and I’m only halfway through replacing the windows.”

      “For crying out loud, Hankie,” Carter said. “You don’t need to have all ten cabins ready. Pick the one that’s in the best shape and get it spiffed up. You’ll probably have a couple of weeks, right, Taylor?”

      She nodded. “And I can help. Either with the painting or with...um...making sure you have the time to get it done.” She glanced at Millie, who had returned to driving her car in circles.

      “You know,” he said mildly, “half the reason I bought the cabins was to have more time with certain people who are pretending to not listen. Not less.”

      Moxie rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of biscuits. We’re talking two weeks. You live and breathe the child as it is. It’ll do her good to have some space, maybe hang out with Taylor for a bit.”

      He wanted to tell Moxie she was off her rocker, but he couldn’t. Because he knew too well that families could become claustrophobic. He didn’t want to do that to her.

      And even though he wanted—needed—a little distance between him and his family, the fact was, he did owe them. That was the other reason he had left the dairy and bought the cabins—to stop being a burden on them. To stand on his own two feet. There was no way in hell he would have made it through the years since Millie’s birth and his divorce without his family, but it was time to turn that around.

      It would be nice to be the one helping them for a change. He could never repay them completely, but it wouldn’t kill him to do this.

      He looked at Millie, clad in the old shirt that she had claimed as a lab coat, her hair a halo of kinks he had never learned to tame, pushing her toy car back and forth. Maybe if they let this Brynn into the cabins, it could be good for Mills. A low-pressure way to learn how to deal with the people who would be coming and going all the time once he opened. A test case, as it were.

      “This cousin,” he said to Taylor. “She’s not a diva, is she? Because even if I go full out, the place is going to be rough around the edges for a while. I won’t have time to cater to her.”

      Taylor beamed. “Brynn’s idea of a good time is a cold beer and a hockey game on TV. I don’t think you have to worry about her.”

      “Let’s do it,” Moxie proclaimed, and as if a switch had been flipped, everyone started talking again.

      Hank let the voices rush over him and tried to suppress the feeling that Taylor’s assurances sounded a lot like something that would have been uttered by the captain of the Titanic.

      CHAPTER TWO

      TWO WEEKS LATER, Hank stood in the middle of the Wolfe cabin and took in the changes with a critical eye. The missing bits in the fieldstone wall had been replaced, the wood floors were free of sawdust and thanks to a stretch of decent weather, he’d been able to open the windows long enough to clear all scents but a faint hint of fresh-cut wood. Taylor had added some throw rugs, ordered him to buy bed linens in some color he called red, but she insisted was cranberry, and hung curtains at the windows.

      All in all, the place didn’t look bad. Kind of cozy, actually. And just in time.

      Millie rushed in from her observation post on the porch. “She’s here!”

      “Already?” Crap. Taylor had promised she’d be on hand for the move-in. Why did Brynn have to be the punctual cousin?

      He reached for his phone, ready to tell Taylor to get it in gear, but Millie grabbed his hand. “Come on. We have to go see her.”

      “Easy, Mills. Let’s not bowl her over in her first thirty seconds, okay?”

      Millie huffed out her impatience with his adult ways. “Daddy. This is important. We have to make her like us. She’s our first guest. Our test...” Her nose wrinkled as she obviously struggled to remember his description.

      “Our test subject? Is that what you’re trying to say, my little scientist?”

      Her nod sent her glasses sliding down her nose. “Yes. Our first person. So we have to do a really great job with her, so come on, Daddy.” Tiny hands fastened on his behind and pushed. “Let’s go.”

      “All right, all right. Take it easy.” It figured. The one time he would have welcomed some company there was none to be found. He would have to muddle through this on his own. The story of his life.

      He shrugged on his jacket, took Millie’s hand and headed outside. A little blue hatchback sat at the end of the path he had cleared of snow. Yowzers, he hadn’t seen a car stuffed that full since he moved into his first university dorm.

      “Hello.” He kept his voice hearty and brisk as he approached the car. “Welcome to Northwoods Cabins.”

      The door creaked open. He spotted reassuringly serviceable boots—no heels, no suede—followed by long jean-clad legs. A head of dark hair followed. At last she emerged, giving him the full picture—one of those Icelandic sweaters the cross-country skiers loved, a hint of curves beneath the intricate design and a smile so dazzling it kind of knocked everything else out of his head.

      “Hi!” Her voice was brisk also, a bit lower than he expected and friendly enough to ease Millie’s grip on his fingers. “I’m Brynn. I take it my cousin is late, as usual?”

      “Sure looks that way.” He remembered his manners and stuck out his palm. “Hank North. This is my daughter, Millie.”

      “Good СКАЧАТЬ