Six Hot Single Dads. Lynne Marshall

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter One

      Kristi Callahan rang the doorbell of her dream home. A sprawling 1960s rancher with two fireplaces, a breezeway separating the house from the two-car garage, and enough West Coast flair to appeal to potential buyers searching for their own dream home in one of Seattle’s family-friendliest neighborhoods. And it was just her luck to be on the wrong side of the door.

      This house was well beyond the reach of a single mom raising a teenage daughter on a single mom’s income, but that didn’t stop her imagination from playing with the idea of actually living in a house like this someday. And since she’d been hired to get this one staged for the real estate market, she would at least get to put her personal stamp on the place before returning to reality. Her modest two-bedroom town house was no dream home, but it was hers. Or it would be hers in twenty-three and a half years.

      The other reality was that by the time she and her team at Ready Set Sold were finished here, this client would get top dollar, even in today’s less-than-stellar market, putting this house even further out of her reach.

      Speaking of clients, she had an appointment and she was only five minutes late. Okay, eight, but surely Mr. and Mrs. McTavish hadn’t given up on her and gone out. There was a big silver-colored SUV and two pink plastic tricycles parked in the driveway but that didn’t necessarily mean anyone was home.

      She dug her phone out of the side pocket of her bag. No messages, no missed calls. Taking care not to get tripped up by a tattered teddy bear missing half its stuffing and three small yellow rubber boots strewn across the wide front step, she rang the bell again, and waited. A moment later her patience was rewarded with footsteps, lots of them. Two identical faces with earnest blue eyes and blond Cindy Brady pigtails appeared in the glass sidelight next to the door. One had her thumb in her mouth; the other’s pigtails were oddly askew. No doubt these were the tricycle riders. And then they were dwarfed by a huge dog whose head appeared above theirs, a panting, drooling Saint Bernard.

      “Is your mommy home?” Kristi asked, loud enough so they could hear.

      Their pigtails shook from side to side.

      The dog pressed its moist nose against the glass.

      Hmm. The children stared at her but made no attempt to summon a grown-up. Surely they hadn’t been left here on their own with only a dog to look out for them. A dog that let loose a strand of drool that now slithered down one of the blond pigtails.

      Gross. Kristi quickly looked away and reached for the doorbell yet again, pulling her hand back when another set of footsteps, heavier ones, approached from the other side of the door.

      The man who opened it was wearing faded blue jeans, a gray T-shirt with what appeared to be a complicated chemical equation in green lettering stretching across his chest, and the annoyed expression of someone who wasn’t expecting anyone.

      “Can I help you?” he asked.

      Darn. Did she have the wrong day? No. She had checked her calendar and this appointment had definitely been scheduled for Wednesday. And it was Wednesday, wasn’t it?

      The man at the door gave her a wary look and held up his hands, both clad in dirt-caked gardening gloves. “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.”

      “No.” She shook her head emphatically, trying to ignore his mucky gloves and struggling not to be distracted by the intensity of his eyes. Cool blue eyes that a girl could practically swim in. “I’m not selling anything.”

      “Who’s СКАЧАТЬ