The Single Dad's Redemption. Roxanne Rustand

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СКАЧАТЬ event costs and didn’t reach our donation goals for heart disease and cancer research, either.”

      Connor walked to the front door and studied the sign displaying the store hours. “So, your store is open tomorrow afternoon?”

      She nodded, dropped the bank deposit bag into her purse and grabbed her car keys from a drawer under the counter. “All of the stores in town are open Sunday afternoons. Weekends are the busiest times during high season, and none of us can afford to close for the entire day, even if we want to. It would really decimate the weekend traffic coming from the big cities.”

      “So, do you want me to come in tomorrow?” He shouldered on his coat.

      “I’d like you here every day, if possible. Your time in town will be short as it is.” She smiled. “You’ve caught on really fast and your help means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

      “The more hours, the better. Noon, then?”

      “Perfect.” She eyed the light rain outside. “How on earth do you start a campfire when it’s this wet?”

      “Can’t.”

      “Then how will you cook your supper? Do you have a propane gas stove or something?”

      “Something like that.” Thunder rumbled again as he opened the door to step outside. “G’night.”

      “Wait.” Guilt lanced through her at the thought of him heading out into the rain. She slung her purse over her shoulder and hurried after him. “I’m definitely giving you a ride home tonight.”

      He turned to face her, the rain sluicing down his coat. “I don’t mind the walk at all, ma’am.”

      “I just had an idea. I’m heading over to Dad’s house to make supper and I’d like you to come along.”

      “That isn’t necessary. Really.”

      She waved away his protest. “Consider it a part of your workday, because this will help me a lot, as well. You can talk to Dad while I make supper and then you can eat with us. I am sure there’ll be a time or two when I need to send you over there, so it’ll help if he gets to know you. Maybe not anything about your, um, recent past, though. Not just yet.”

      Frowning, he hitched a shoulder as if wanting to turn her down. “Well...”

      She bit her lower lip. “I want to apologize in advance for anything Dad might say or do that seems rude. He wasn’t always that way. His doctor says it’s probably part of his dementia.”

      A corner of Connor’s mouth kicked up into a brief grin. “Actually, it sounds just like home.”

      Not for the first time, she wondered about what Connor’s life had been like before he’d ended up in prison.

      Not always happy, apparently, from his hints about his troubled family life back at the ranch. Yet he’d been nothing but polite, with the subtle undercurrent of Texas charm that made her heart warm. Whatever he’d suffered during his unjust incarceration, he’d still managed to come through it as a kind and decent man. “So you’ll join us?”

      He hesitated, then nodded.

      This was strictly business—a way to help introduce Dad to this stranger. So why did she feel such a flicker of delight at his answer?

      Connor would be leaving town in no time. She’d never see him again. And she’d already had too many lessons in the art of failed relationships to ever risk her heart again.

      She would not—could not—have any personal interest in Connor Rafferty.

      He raised an eyebrow and she realized she’d been staring at him while sorting out her thoughts. She scrambled for something else to say.

      “Um, just steer clear of Dad’s dog and you’ll be fine.”

      “I think I’ll manage...though it sounds like your dad might be the bigger challenge.”

      She bit back a laugh. “I forgot. You had a career riding bulls or broncs or something equally intimidating. Right?”

      “Saddle broncs.”

      “So you can easily deal with a grumpy dog.” She ushered Connor out the back door of the shop and then locked the door behind them. “I’ve had a five-pound pot roast in Dad’s Crock-Pot since this morning, simmering away with plenty of fresh vegetables and garlic. I hope you’ll enjoy it more than a soggy campground and cold food.”

      He flashed a smile that warmed her clear down to her toes. “On that score, I have no doubt.”

      * * *

      Once he’d heard about that beef roast, it would have taken a herd of stampeding Herefords to keep him from joining Keeley and her dad for dinner.

      But now that they’d been at her dad’s house for an interminable hour, Connor wished he could tactfully leave despite the otherworldly aromas wafting into the family room from the kitchen.

      Paul North sat in his La-Z-Boy recliner, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

      He’d said nothing when Keeley introduced the two of them, and his icy demeanor hadn’t wavered since. Now and then he directed a glare in Connor’s direction.

      If eyes could shoot flames, Connor would have been a pile of cinders by now. He shifted his weight on the leather sofa and tried another topic. “So...are you a sports fan?”

      “No.”

      Connor had never followed sports, so that would’ve been a dead end anyhow. “Golf?”

      “No.”

      “Camping? Hiking?”

      Paul’s thick, steel-gray brows drew together in a frown. “Do I look like someone who would go camping?”

      Connor glanced around the spacious room. Paneled in dark wood and cluttered with twice as much heavy furniture as it needed, and stacks of magazines on every flat surface, the room was so full that he’d even missed noticing the fireplace at first.

      Toenails clicked on the hardwood floor and a white-muzzled, overweight dog appeared at the end of the sofa. It swiveled its head toward Paul then took a long, hard look at Connor, its teeth bared and hackles raised.

      The dog and Paul had such similar personalities that Connor nearly laughed. “Nice dog.”

      “Be careful. Bart doesn’t like anyone but me.” From the tone in his voice, Paul was proud of it, too.

      But just then Bart ambled over to Connor, sniffed at the hem of his jeans, gave a sigh of contentment and planted his rear on the floor.

      Connor reached down to ruffle the shaggy hair on his neck and scratch behind his ears. The old dog flopped down to rest his chin on Connor’s running shoe. In seconds he was snoring, his flaccid cheeks whuffling in and out with each wheezy breath.

      Paul eyed his traitorous dog, and the old man’s bushy eyebrows lowered. “I guess he СКАЧАТЬ