Книга - Building The Perfect Daddy

Building The Perfect Daddy
Brenda Harlen


Ryder to the Rescue!On location for his home improvement show, "America's Hottest Handyman" Ryder Wallace has his hands full with the station's contest winner. Lauryn Schulte is a single mom with a falling-down house, a failing business and two kids under four–exactly the kind of woman that has this playboy running for this hills . . . but not this time. Not when her little girl has him playing tea party, building castles and cuddling her baby brother. And Lauryn?She torments his libido in ways that should be outlawed. Ryder doesn't do relationships with strings–but Lauryn has him tied up in knots. He's got to cut and run. So why does he keep getting tangled up in the most outrageous idea of all–becoming a husband and a daddy?







Ryder to the Rescue!

On location for his home-improvement show, “America’s Hottest Handyman” Ryder Wallace has his hands full with the station’s contest winner. Lauryn Schulte is a single mom with a falling-down house, a failing business and two kids under four—exactly the kind of woman that has this playboy running for the hills…but not this time. Not when her little girl has him playing tea party, building castles and cuddling her baby brother.

And Lauryn? She torments his libido in ways that should be outlawed. Ryder doesn’t do relationships with strings—but Lauryn has him tied up in knots. He’s got to cut and run. So why does he keep getting tangled up in the most outrageous idea of all—becoming a husband and a daddy?


She felt his eyes on her.

He watched her every move as she came downstairs from putting the kids to bed.

“Thanks for babysitting,” she said. “And for the pizza. I’m sure you have more exciting plans for your Friday night, but I appreciate that you stayed.”

“I didn’t have plans. And I enjoyed hanging out with you and the kids.”

She sat across from him. “You’re my daughter’s new BFF, you know.”

His eyes glinted. “We’re more than BFFs. She asked me to marry her.”

“Well, you gave her flowers and played Barbies with her. Of course she’s head over heels in love with you.”

“Is that all it takes?”

“For a three-year-old.”

He leaned forward and settled his hands on her knees. Even through the denim she felt the heat of his touch—a heat that seared her whole body. “What about the three-year-old’s mom?”

She eyed him warily. “Are you flirting with me?”

“If you have to ask, my skills must be rusty.”

“It’s more likely that mine are,” she admitted, feeling out of her element here.

He lowered his head toward her. “Then maybe we should work on changing that.”

* * *

Those Engaging Garretts —The Carolina Cousins


Building the Perfect Daddy

Brenda Harlen






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


BRENDA HARLEN is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Mills & Boon. You can keep up-to-date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter or through her website, www.brendaharlen.com (http://www.brendaharlen.com).


This book is dedicated to my wonderful husband, who has proved, time and again over the years, he is capable of tackling the various home improvements our various homes have required (with thanks for finally putting up the new trim in the hallway!).


Contents

Cover (#u4a2d22ff-9068-5cf5-8fbf-6c879dc4c1f2)

Back Cover Text (#u3869b4be-91f4-5b39-859c-e70dbd2d88e5)

Introduction (#ua8393d3b-c1e7-5d47-8980-a21390a271e5)

Title Page (#uac06012f-c8a5-540b-a74f-e2dd7abb63d1)

About the Author (#u613ed5b6-7237-5e0f-8976-9fade087148b)

Dedication (#u4252adf2-d64b-54a8-8f3b-cd4032b32709)

Chapter One (#u4a529a2c-aa19-5e1b-aa09-7e91f5882d3e)

Chapter Two (#u2ac8de85-b6f8-5bb0-a3ee-8d1ffb8f4c38)

Chapter Three (#u818a93f5-5fa3-56e9-b96a-66527ba274dd)

Chapter Four (#u24ff2802-869f-5cb3-860e-f65f86fa55a5)

Chapter Five (#u51ea807a-8c6e-5984-bdc5-c5e822139c57)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_3049ddf3-d251-5d4d-9522-2b1ceb009290)

It was raining again.

The sound of the water drumming on the roof woke Lauryn up well before her seven-month-old son. She cracked an eyelid and squinted at the glowing numbers of her alarm clock—5:28 a.m.

Way too freakin’ early.

She rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, as if that might muffle the ominous sound of the rain. When she’d had a couple of leaky spots patched in the spring, the roofer had warned her that the whole thing needed to be redone. She’d nodded her understanding because she did understand. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the money for that kind of major expense right now, and the sound of the water pounding down felt like Mother Nature beating on her head, chastising her for the foolish choices she’d made.

But she was no longer the idealistic twenty-seven-year-old who had been as much in love with the idea of being a bride as the man who had proposed to her. And she was still paying for that mistake—which was why she couldn’t afford a new roof right now.

She looked up at the ceiling and sent up a silent prayer: Please hold out for just one more year. Just long enough for me figure out my finances and my life.

She didn’t know who she was trying to bargain with—the roof or Mother Nature or God. At this point, she would willingly make a deal with anyone who had the power to change her fate.

Her parents—Tom and Susan Garrett—had given her and Rob the money to buy a house when they’d married. A proper house, like the simple Craftsman-style bungalow in Ridgemount that she’d thought would be perfect for a young couple starting out. But she’d let her charming new husband convince her that they could split the money between a less expensive fixer-upper and his start-up sporting-goods business, The Locker Room.

After six years, the house was still in need of major repairs, the business was failing and she was on her own with a preschooler and a baby. Was it any wonder that she only wanted to stay in bed all day with the covers over her head?

But she didn’t have that option. She didn’t get to follow her bliss, as Rob had claimed he was doing when he walked away from all of his responsibilities. She was stuck right where she was with the old roof, drafty windows, leaky plumbing and rotting porch.

Still, she tried to focus on the positive—her final divorce papers had come in the mail a few days earlier and she was grateful that it was done. She might have wished away her entire marriage, except then she wouldn’t have Kylie and Zachary.

No matter what happened, she was determined not to let her mistakes impact their lives. She had to figure a way out of the precarious situation they were in, to give them a stable and loving home. Hopefully, the way out would be found within the business plan she’d prepared for her upcoming meeting at the bank, because taking more money from her family was definitely not an option.

She glanced at the clock again—5:57 a.m.

Knowing that Zachary would be up within the hour, she reluctantly pushed back the covers and slid out of bed. Avoiding the creakier floorboards, she tiptoed to his room to confirm that he was sleeping soundly in his crib. He was so big already. Almost eighteen pounds and twenty-eight inches long at his last checkup, he’d long since mastered rolling from his back to his stomach and over again and was now starting to use the rails of his crib to pull himself up.

She gently touched the ends of his baby-soft curls and felt her heart swell inside of her chest. She might hate her ex-husband for a lot of reasons, but she would always be grateful to him for the two precious children he’d given her.

Moving away from the crib, she headed to the master bath. Stripping away the tank top and boxer shorts she’d slept in, she showered quickly, determined to have herself put together and ready for the day before either of the kids woke up. But she hadn’t even finished drying her hair when she heard the baby stirring. Zachary was inevitably up with the sun, but apparently he knew seven in the morning even when the sun wasn’t shining.

She hurried downstairs to fix him a bottle of formula. He was eating some solid foods now and drinking from a sippy cup during the day, but a bottle continued to be part of his early morning and late-night routine, and Lauryn appreciated the quiet time snuggling with her baby. She returned to the bedroom with the bottle in hand and lifted him from his crib, changed his diaper and settled into the rocking chair by the window to feed him.

When Zachary was satisfied—at least for the moment—she headed across the hall to check on her daughter. Stepping into the little girl’s bedroom was like stepping into the pages of a fairy tale. The interior walls were painted to look like they were made of stone blocks, with three arched “windows” providing spectacular views of the kingdom, including snowcapped mountains, a lush green forest and even a waterfall spilling into a crystal-clear lake. There was also an exquisite glass carriage drawn by a pair of white horses making its way down a long, winding road toward another castle with numerous turrets and towers. The castle was guarded by knights and dragons; there were wildflowers in the grass, fairies peeking out from the trees and butterflies, birds and hot air balloons in the sky.

She didn’t know how many hours her sister had spent, first sketching and then painting the mural. Jordyn had created a complete fantasy world for her niece, and Kylie absolutely loved everything about it. It was only Lauryn who had recently started to worry that she wasn’t doing her little girl any favors by encouraging her belief in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters.

Lauryn used to believe in those same things. And when Rob Schulte had proposed, she’d been certain that he was her Prince Charming. Even during the rocky periods in their marriage, she’d been confident that their love would guide them through the difficult terrain. And she’d remained optimistic right up until the day her prince had ridden off into the sunset with a yoga instructor, leaving her trapped in a crumbling castle surrounded by fire-breathing dragons in the form of unpaid creditors.

It had taken her a while, but she’d eventually come to accept that he’d never loved her the way she’d loved him. She could forgive him for walking out on their marriage—but not for walking away from their children. She was relieved, but not really surprised, that Rob hadn’t shown any inclination to fight for custody. She had enough struggles trying to manage the business he’d left floundering and keep a leaky roof over all of their heads without battling on yet another front.

As she made her way down to the kitchen, Zachary let out a loud belch, then a relieved sigh.

She continued to rub his back as he settled. “Does that feel better now?”

The baby, of course, didn’t answer.

Feeling dampness on her shoulder, she tore a paper towel off the roll and attempted to wipe off the spit-up that was now sliding down the front of her shirt. Obviously she would have to change, but Kylie would be up soon and she wanted to get her breakfast started.

She settled Zachary in his high chair with a handful of Cheerios on his tray to keep him occupied while she gathered the necessary ingredients to make French toast. Hopefully Kylie’s favorite breakfast would make the little girl more amenable to spending the afternoon with her grandparents while Lauryn attended her meeting at the bank.

Susan and Tom Garrett absolutely doted on their grandchildren, and Kylie had always loved spending time with them, but since Rob had gone, the little girl had become unusually clingy and demanding. It was as if she was afraid to let her mother out of her sight in case she disappeared from her life, too.

Lauryn was turning the first slice of bread in the pan when she heard Kylie’s footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, her daughter trudged into the kitchen, wearing her favorite princess nightgown made of a silky pink fabric with a ruffled hem, white silk underskirt and puffy sleeves—and a decidedly un-princess-like scowl on her face. Kylie had never been a morning person.

Climbing into her booster seat at the table, she reached for the cup of orange juice waiting for her. Lauryn cut up the fried bread and set the plate in front of her daughter, who picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of toast. Lauryn sat beside her and sipped her coffee.

Kylie finished about half of her breakfast, then pushed her plate aside. “Can we go to the park today?”

“Maybe later,” Lauryn said.

“I wanna go now,” her daughter insisted.

“It’s raining now,” she said. “And Mama has to take care of some paperwork this morning.”

Kylie folded her arms over her chest in an all-too-familiar mutinous posture. “I wanna go to the park.”

“Later,” she promised, kissing the top of her daughter’s head before lifting Zachary out of his high chair. “Right now, we have to get the two of you washed up and dressed.”

She’d just propped the baby on her hip when the doorbell rang. Kylie immediately raced down the hall.

With a weary sigh, Lauryn followed. If it had been up to her, she would have ignored the summons. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with some kid selling chocolate bars or magazine subscriptions, especially when she could afford neither. And why anyone would be going door-to-door on a Wednesday morning in this weather was beyond her comprehension, but since Kylie had already climbed up on the sofa in the living room and was pushing the curtains apart to see who was at the door, she could hardly pretend that no one was home.

“There’s lotsa peoples outside,” Kylie told her.

Lots of people?

Lauryn knew she was frowning when she unlocked the door and pulled it open—a frown that deepened when she saw that her daughter hadn’t been exaggerating. In addition to the mouthwateringly handsome and impressively muscled man on her porch wearing a hard hat and a tool belt—Oh, please God, do not let this be some kind of stripper-gram, because I have no idea how I’d explain that to my daughter—there was a man on the lawn with what looked like a video camera propped on his shoulder, a trio of people standing a little farther away under an umbrella and a van and two pickup trucks parked on the road in front of the house.

The hunk in the hard hat and the tool belt smiled, causing a fluttery sensation in her belly, along with a nagging suspicion that she’d seen him somewhere before.

“Are you Lauryn Schulte?” he asked.

“I am,” she confirmed, her tone giving no hint of the unexpected and unwelcome awareness she was feeling. “But unless you’re from the North Carolina State Lottery with one of those big checks for me, you can get yourself and your camera crew off my property.”


Chapter Two (#ulink_b92eb984-12d2-5b2e-a848-c57c9f0ff83c)

The experiences gained from three years in front of the camera had taught Ryder Wallace to keep a smile on his face under almost any circumstances. Circumstances certainly more challenging than a frazzled mother with a baby on her hip and what looked like baby vomit on the shoulder of the pale yellow T-shirt she wore over faded denim jeans.

Except that she then closed the door in his smiling face.

And locked it.

He actually heard the click of the dead bolt sliding into place.

Not quite the reaction he’d anticipated.

“Cut!”

Owen Diercks jogged over to the rickety porch, where Ryder was still staring, slack jawed, at the closed door.

“What in the hell just happened?” the director demanded.

“I think we came at a bad time,” Ryder said.

“I’m tired of standing around waiting for these women to primp for the camera,” Owen grumbled. “Whoever decided to surprise the contest winners obviously didn’t think that one through.”

“I believe the surprise aspect was your idea,” Ryder said, although the home owner’s tone made him suspect that Lauryn Schulte’s reasons for closing the door on his face were about more than an unwillingness to face the cameras without her lipstick on.

“Which is probably why no one ever listens to my ideas,” the director acknowledged as lightning flashed in the distance. He glanced at the sky, a worried look on his face, then at his watch. “I don’t particularly want to stand around in the rain for God only knows how long while our home owner does her hair and makeup.”

“Do you want to wrap for today?” Ryder asked him.

“No, I want to stay on schedule,” Owen grumbled as thunder rumbled and lightning flashed again. “But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen today.”

Ryder glanced back at Carl, who was using a garbage bag to keep his camera sheltered from the rain while he waited for further instructions.

“Pack it up,” Owen called out to him.

Carl nodded and immediately moved toward the van with his equipment. The assistant to the director and the AV tech followed the cameraman.

“We need to get back on schedule,” Owen said. “Which means that someone needs to remind Mrs. Schulte of the terms and conditions she agreed to when she submitted her application.” He looked at Ryder. “Do you want me to do it?”

“I will,” he offered. Because as great as Owen was in handling the numerous and various aspects of his job, he also had a tendency to piss people off. And after only a brief interaction with Lauryn Schulte, Ryder got the impression that she was already pissed off.

Owen nodded. “I expect to be back here first thing Monday morning with everyone ready to go.”

“They will be,” Ryder promised, with more conviction than he felt.

As the director made his way down the driveway to his own vehicle, Ryder considered his options. For him, walking away wasn’t one of them.

He was accustomed to home owners opening their doors wide and inviting him and his Ryder to the Rescue crew to come inside—not just happy but grateful to see him. Because it was his job to fix other contractors’ mistakes, to finish the projects that do-it-yourselfers gave up on doing. In sum, he gave people what they wanted and they were appreciative of his time and efforts. They hugged him and sent him thank-you cards. They were never dismissive or disinterested.

Clearly Lauryn Schulte didn’t understand what was at stake here, so he knocked on her door again.

There was no response.

He knew she was home, and she knew that he knew she was home, and thinking about that began to piss him off.

He knocked once more, and once more she ignored him.

But the little girl pushed back the curtains at the front window and waved to him. Something about her looked vaguely familiar—or maybe she just looked like most little girls of a similar age, even if he didn’t know what that age might be.

He lifted a hand and waved back.

She smiled and twin dimples creased her cheeks. She really was a cute kid. Through the glass, he heard her mother say something. Though he couldn’t decipher the actual words, the message was clear enough when the child gave one last wave before the curtains fell back into place over the window.

He sat on the porch, mostly sheltered from the rain pounding down around him by the overhang, and waited.

As he did, he made a quick visual scan of the surrounding area. It was a decent neighborhood, showing some signs of age. Most of the houses were simple designs—primarily bungalows and two stories, between thirty and forty years old—but well kept, the lawns tidy, flower beds tended. There were no flowers in Mrs. Schulte’s garden, only a few scraggly bushes and a plastic bucket and shovel likely intended for digging in beach sand rather than potting soil.

He heard a click behind him—the dead bolt releasing—then the sound of the door opening.

“Why are you sitting on my porch in the rain?” Lauryn asked wearily.

He stood up and turned. Though her sweetly curved mouth was unsmiling and her soft gray-green eyes were filled with suspicion, neither detracted from her beauty. But he’d known a lot of beautiful women, and he wasn’t going to be distracted from his task by an unexpected tug of attraction.

“Because you didn’t invite me to come inside,” he responded.

“And I’m not going to,” she said firmly.

“Let’s start at the top again,” he suggested, with a hopeful smile. “My name is Ryder Wallace—I’m the host of WNCC’s home improvement show Ryder to the Rescue.”

She was unimpressed. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“I’m here to discuss the details of the work you want done, and it would be really great if you’d let me come in out of the rain to talk about it.”

Though she was still frowning, she finally stepped away from the door to allow him entry.

“Do you have any coffee?” he asked hopefully.

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

He smiled again. “Talking over a cup of coffee in the kitchen is so much friendlier than standing in the foyer.”

“You’re right,” she said, “but I’m not feeling particularly friendly.”

The little girl, who had been hiding behind her mother, peeked out at him now. “You can have tea wif me,” she offered.

Lauryn sighed. “Kylie, what did Mama tell you about strangers?”

But the little girl shook her head. “He gived me flowers.”

Ryder looked at the mom for an explanation, but she seemed equally confused by her daughter’s statement.

“At the weddin’,” Kylie clarified.

“My sister’s wedding,” he guessed, because it was the only one he’d attended recently.

Lauryn’s puzzlement gave way to speculation. “Are you telling me that Avery Wallace is your sister?”

He nodded, confirming his relationship to the obstetrician who had recently married Justin Garrett, another doctor at Charisma’s Mercy Hospital.

“Okay,” she finally—reluctantly—relented. “I guess I can offer you a cup of coffee.”

“Were you at the wedding?” he asked, following mother and daughter through the hallway to the kitchen he recognized from the photos she’d submitted with her application.

She shook her head. “No. Zachary—” she glanced at the baby in the playpen, playing with colorful plastic rings “—was running a bit of a fever, so we stayed home. Kylie went with my parents. And when you caught the bride’s bouquet—”

“Avery threw it at me,” he felt compelled to point out in his defense. “It was an automatic reflex.”

She shrugged, as if the details were unimportant, and set a filter into the basket of the coffeemaker on the counter—the only modern appliance visible in the whole room.

“And when you caught the bouquet,” she said again, measuring grounds into the filter, “you gave the flowers to Kylie.”

He looked at the little girl in the frilly nightgown and finally remembered. “You were wearing a dark blue dress?”

Kylie smiled and nodded.

“Then you must be related to Justin,” he said to Lauryn.

“He’s my cousin,” she admitted. “Our fathers are brothers.”

“Small world,” he mused, wondering if the loose familial connection would help or hinder his case.

“Small town,” she corrected, handing him the mug of coffee. “Cream or sugar?”

“Sugar, please.”

She offered him the sugar bowl and a spoon so he could fix it the way he liked it.

As he did, he asked, “Why do I get the impression that you changed your mind about being on the show?”

“What are you talking about?”

He frowned at the genuine bafflement in her tone. “You applied for a Room Rescue from Ryder to the Rescue.”

“My sister Tristyn is addicted to the show, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,” she told him. “I don’t have time to watch a lot of television, and when I do, it’s usually Nick Jr.”

He acknowledged that with a nod. “So was it your sister who told you about the Room Rescue contest?”

She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know anything about a contest.”

He pulled the application out of his pocket and passed it across the table as Kylie tugged on her mother’s arm and whispered something close to her ear.

“Yes, you can go up to your room to play for a little while,” she said, and her daughter skipped off.

Lauryn unfolded the page and immediately began skimming the document, her brows furrowing. She finished reading and set the page down. “Well, it’s all true,” she admitted. “Except that I didn’t send this in.”

He pointed to the signature box. “That’s not you?”

“It’s my name—and a pretty good replica of my signature, which leads me to believe that one or both of my sisters filled out the application.”

He winced. “The application is a contract, so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say that, then my director won’t want to get our legal department involved.”

“Can’t you just tell him that I changed my mind?” she suggested hopefully.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “Most people would be thrilled by the prospect of a brand-new kitchen.”

She looked around the dull and outdated room. “Rob had plans for this space—new cabinets, granite counter, ceramic floor.”

“We can certainly consult with your husband about the design,” he offered, attempting to appease her.

She shook her head. “He’s not here.”

“When will he be back?”

“Well, he left nine months ago, so I don’t expect him to return anytime soon.”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

“Don’t be,” she said. “I’m not.”

He took a moment to regroup and reconsider his strategy. “Then forget about his plans,” he urged. “What do you want?”

Lauryn stood up to lift the now-fussing baby from his playpen. “I don’t even know where to begin to answer that question.”

Opening a cupboard, she took a cookie out of a box. The little guy reached for it eagerly and immediately began gnawing on it.

Kylie returned to the kitchen, walking past the table to the back door, where she shoved her feet into a pair of pink rain boots.

“I told you we could go to the park later,” Lauryn reminded her daughter. “You’re supposed to be playing in your room now.”

The little girl nodded. “But it’s wainin’ in the castle.”

Her mother frowned. “What do you mean ‘it’s raining in the castle’? The rain is outside, honey.”

This time Kylie shook her head. “The wain’s on my bed.”

Lauryn pushed back her chair and, with the baby propped on her hip, raced down the narrow hallway and up the stairs.

Instinctively, Ryder followed.

She stood in the doorway of what was obviously her daughter’s bedroom, staring at the water dripping from the ceiling onto the little girl’s bed. And puddling beside her tall dresser. And in front of her closet.

Her bottom lip trembled as she fought to hold back the tears that now filled her eyes.

“Why’s it wainin’ inside, Mama?” Kylie asked.

“Because it wasn’t a crappy enough day already,” her mother muttered in weary response.

The little girl gasped. “You said a bad word.”

“Yes, I did,” she admitted.

“Where’s your attic access?” Ryder asked her.

“My bedroom,” she told him.

He followed her across the hall. She reached for the loop of white rope in the ceiling. Of course, even on tiptoe, her fingertips barely brushed the rope. He easily reached up to grasp the handle and pull down the stairs.

She looked up into the yawning darkness overhead. “I can’t remember the last time I was up there,” she admitted. “I don’t even know if there’s a light.”

Even if there was, there was also water coming into the house and Ryder wasn’t willing to take a chance on forty-year-old wiring. Instead, he pulled the flashlight from his tool belt, switched on the beam and began his ascent.

It was a fairly typical attic—with a wide-planked floor over the joists of the ceiling below so that he didn’t have to worry about where he stepped. A tiny window at each end illuminated dust and cobwebs along with various boxes and some old furniture. He lifted the beam of light to the ceiling and noted the distinct wet patches that showed him where the rain was coming in.

He walked back to the access and called down to Lauryn. “Can you get me some old towels and buckets?”

“I only have one bucket,” she told him.

“Wastebaskets or big pasta pots would work.”

She nodded and disappeared to gather the required items while he continued his inspection of the attic ceiling.

“Why’s it wainin’ in the castle?”

The little voice, so unexpected and close behind him, made Ryder start.

“How did you get up here?” he demanded.

“I comed up the ladder,” Kylie told him.

“I’m not sure your mom would want you climbing up ladders when she’s not around.”

“Why’s it wainin’ in the castle?” she asked again, a little impatiently this time.

“There’s a hole in the roof,” he explained, shining the light to show her where the water was coming in. “Actually, a few holes.”

“You fix it?”

“Yeah, I can fix it,” he said, and was rewarded with a smile that lit up the dim space and tugged at his heart.

“Kylie?” her mother shouted out from below, her voice panicky. “Kylie—where are you?”

“She’s with me,” Ryder called down, taking the little girl’s hand to lead her back to the stairs.

Though Kylie had bravely made the climb up, the sudden death grip on his hand as they approached the opening warned him that she wasn’t so keen about going down again.

“Do you want me to carry you?” he asked her.

Eyes wide, she nodded quickly.

Her arms immediately went around his neck when he scooped her up. And in that moment, that quickly, he fell for this brave and terrified little girl who so openly and willingly placed her trust in him.

Lauryn was reaching for her daughter even before he hit the last step, simultaneously hugging her tight and chastising her for disappearing. Ryder left her to that task while he picked up the items she’d gathered and returned to the attic.

It didn’t take him long to direct the water from the various points of origin into the bucket and pots she’d supplied. Of course, that would only contain the rain, not stop it from coming in, but it was the best he could do for now.

When he came back downstairs, the baby had fallen asleep in his crib, Kylie was dressed and Lauryn was tying a ribbon in her daughter’s hair. The puddles in the little girl’s room had been mopped up, and plastic bowls put in place to capture any more water that leaked through.

Ryder took a moment to look around the room and appreciate the detailed painting on the walls that he’d barely noticed earlier. “Did you do this?”

Lauryn shook her head. “My sister did.”

“It’s incredible,” he said.

“Jordyn is incredibly talented.” She looked worriedly at the ceiling, where a dragon flew in the sky above the castle walls.

“It won’t take much to touch up after the roof is fixed.”

She nodded, though she didn’t look reassured.

In fact, she looked as if she had the weight of the enormous dragon—and entire fairy-tale kingdom—resting on her narrow shoulders.

Damn, but he’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. And this damsel had a lot more distress than she seemed to be able to handle right now.

“In the interim, I could put tarps up on the roof to give you some extra protection,” he offered.

But she squared her shoulders and turned to face him. “You’ve done enough already, thanks. And now, I really need you to go so that I can run my errands.”

“Do you want me to recommend a good roofer?”

“No, thanks,” she said. “I’ve got someone who came out once before.”

“If your roof is still leaking, maybe you need somebody different,” he suggested.

Her cheeks flushed. “He warned me that I would need to redo the whole roof.”

“When was that?”

“April,” she admitted.

“You were told, five months ago, that you needed a new roof, and you haven’t done anything about it?” he asked incredulously.

She lifted her chin. “Not that I owe you any explanations, but I’ve been kind of busy trying to take care of my two kids and run the business that my husband walked away from.”

“I wasn’t implying that you should have climbed up onto the roof to strip and reapply shingles yourself, just that you should have scheduled the work to be done.”

“And I would have,” she said. “But in my experience, most people generally want to be paid for the work that they do.”

And that was when he realized she hadn’t been neglectful—she couldn’t afford a new roof. Obviously, he didn’t have any details about her financial situation, but he suspected that she’d just given him the leverage he needed to secure her cooperation for the show.

“That’s usually the way those things work,” he acknowledged. “But, sometimes, other arrangements can be made.”

She narrowed her gaze. “I really think you should go now.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I wasn’t suggesting anything inappropriate,” he assured her. “It seems apparent that, as much as you’d like a new kitchen, there are other issues that require more immediate attention.”

“Your observational skills must be why your name is in the title of the show,” she remarked dryly.

“And I know you’re reluctant to participate in the show—”

“I’m not reluctant,” she denied. “I’m refusing.”

“But why?”

“Because this isn’t a television studio, it’s my home,” she told him. “Maybe there are some things that I’d like to change and other things that need to be changed—like the roof—but I have no desire to open up the doors and let your camera crews dissect my personal space for your television viewers.”

“You’d get a brand-new kitchen,” he reminded her.

She shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t need a new kitchen that desperately.”

“But you do need a new roof—and I can get you that, too. In fact, we can specify whatever home improvements you want in the contract.”

For the first time, he saw a hint of interest in her gray-green eyes. “You can really get my roof fixed?”

“Yes, I can,” he assured her.

“What will it cost me?”

“Not a dime. We have a generous budget, as well as numerous sponsors and endorsement deals that will cover everything. If,” he said, clearly emphasizing the word, “you agree to appear on the show.”

He could see her weighing the pros and cons in her mind. In the end, practicality triumphed.

“When can you start?”


Chapter Three (#ulink_16c8d8b3-5c58-5a20-8b85-4df293b9d295)

Ryder left shortly after that, promising to have the contract revised to reflect the terms of their verbal agreement.

Lauryn still had some concerns, but she pushed them aside and packed the kids into the van to take them to her parents’ house before her appointment with Howard Greenbaum, the loans manager at the bank. Howard and her father were old friends and she’d known the man since she was a little girl. She also knew that Howard would never let that long-term friendship affect any decisions that had to be made on the job—a fact that he confirmed before she left the bank.

When Lauryn returned to her childhood home, Zachary was napping in his playpen and Kylie was playing with some of her mother’s old dolls in front of the television in the living room—keeping Grandpa company while he watched his favorite afternoon game shows. Looking at her children now, everything seemed so normal, so right. But she was suddenly and painfully aware of how quickly their situation could change.

Still, she was lucky. She knew that no matter what else happened, her parents would never let her kids go hungry or sleep on a park bench. And while there was undoubtedly some comfort in that realization, she wanted to provide for her own family—even if she was becoming increasingly doubtful that she could.

“Is everything okay?” Susan Garrett asked when Lauryn made her way to the kitchen, where her mother was tidying up after baking cookies.

She could only shake her head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” her mother prompted.

She shook her head again, then let out a sigh.

“Actually I do,” she admitted. “But if I talk about it, I’ll fall apart, and I don’t want Kylie to see me fall apart.”

Susan pulled a glass from the cupboard, filled it with milk, then set the drink and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies on the table and instructed her daughter to sit.

So Lauryn did. And, unable to resist, she reached for a cookie and broke off a piece. The still-warm morsel flooded her mouth with the flavor of her childhood and made her yearn—almost desperately—for those simpler times when her mother could make all of her troubles go away. But she was the mother now; she had to handle her own troubles and make things right for her children.

“Are there problems at The Locker Room?” Susan asked, aware that Lauryn was trying to pull the sporting goods store back from the brink of financial disaster.

She managed a wry smile. “Aren’t there always?”

“Then something else—something more—is weighing on your mind,” her mother noted. “Have you heard from Rob?”

She shook her head. “Not a single word. And believe me, that’s a relief not a disappointment.”

“I can understand that,” Susan acknowledged. “What I can’t understand is how he could walk away from his children. Regardless of what happened between the two of you, he’s their father.”

“Apparently, that title doesn’t mean the same thing to all men,” Lauryn noted.

“Has Kylie asked about him lately?”

She shook her head. “Not in a while.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” her mother said.

“I’m sure she misses him,” Lauryn said, then reconsidered. “Or maybe not. Even when he was around, he wasn’t much of a hands-on dad.”

“So if you’re not worried about Rob,” Susan prompted.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, you know—”

“I do know,” Lauryn interjected. “But you already do so much.”

Her mother seemed genuinely surprised by that. “What do I do?”

“You look after Kylie and Zachary whenever I need you to.”

“Honey, that’s not a favor to you but a treat for me,” Susan told her.

“I love you for saying that, but I know my kids—they’re not always a treat.”

“They are for their grandparents,” her mother insisted.

Lauryn managed a smile. “They’re so lucky to have both of you. I’m so lucky to have both of you.”

Susan lifted a hand to brush her daughter’s bangs away from her eyes. “Can you stay for dinner?”

Of course, they could. And no doubt, whatever her mother had planned for the evening meal would be better than the meat loaf Lauryn had thrown together that morning. But her parents had already been with the kids for four hours, fed them lunch and probably numerous snacks.

“Thanks, but I’ve got dinner ready to go in the oven at home.”

“We’re having roast pork with fingerling potatoes and green beans,” Susan said in a final attempt at persuasion.

“Enjoy,” Lauryn said, kissing her mother’s cheek.

* * *

When the rain finally stopped early in the afternoon, Ryder loaded up the necessary supplies and headed back to the Schulte residence. It wouldn’t take him long to tack down the tarps, and since Lauryn had said she had errands to run, he expected to complete the task and be gone before she returned.

He didn’t quite make it. He was securing his ladder into the bed of his truck when she pulled an aging minivan into the driveway beside his truck.

The Garretts were one of the wealthiest and most well-known families in Charisma. Of course, Lauryn’s last name was different, which was why he hadn’t immediately made the connection, but as soon as Kylie had mentioned the flowers and the wedding, he’d started to put the pieces together into a more complete picture. But there were still big, gaping holes in the form of the ancient van, leaking roof and outdated kitchen. He finished the tying down while she got the kids out of the vehicle and decided that, sooner or later, he would fill those holes.

He noticed that she’d changed out of the yellow T-shirt and jeans into a slim-fitting navy skirt and jacket and tucked her feet into high-heeled sandals. He also noticed that she had some pretty nice curves beneath the buttoned-up suit.

He shook his head, as if that might dislodge the unwelcome thought from his brain. She was his client—and if he expected to be able to work with her, he had no business ogling her. Not to mention that she really wasn’t his type. He preferred uncomplicated women and simple relationships—a single mother, no matter how beautiful and desirable, didn’t fit that criteria.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Wallace?” she asked.

“Ryder,” he reminded her.

“What are you doing here, Ryder?”

He smiled at the pique in her tone. “I took advantage of the break in the weather to put some tarps up.”

Her gaze shifted to the roof of the house. “You didn’t have to do that,” she protested.

“I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get any more rain in the castle,” he said, winking at Kylie. “And give the wood a chance to dry out so that it will be ready when the roofers are.”

“You’re really going to get my roof fixed?”

“I said I would,” he reminded her.

She nodded. “Rob used to say a lot of things, too,” she admitted. “But he didn’t follow through on many of them.”

“Home renovations aren’t as easy as a lot of people think,” he said, even as he wondered what had gone wrong in her marriage and if she was still hung up on her ex-husband.

“Well, thanks for putting up the tarps.” She started to move past him toward the house.

“Since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks, you might want to ease up on the hostility a little,” he suggested.

“I’m not—” She blew out a breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s been a really bad day and I’m taking it out on you, and after you went out of your way to help me out—which I do appreciate.”

“You’re welcome.”

She started toward the door again, then hesitated. “Are you one of those people who drinks coffee all day?”

He smiled. “Is that a roundabout way of offering me a cup?”

She shrugged. “It seems the least I can do—if you’re interested.”

Yeah, he was interested, and apparently in more than just the hot beverage she was offering. The tug of attraction he felt for the home owner was more than a little disconcerting because, aside from the fact that single mothers weren’t his type, Ryder had a very strict rule against mixing business with pleasure. If he was smart, he’d say, Thanks, but no thanks, climb into his truck and head home. Maybe he’d even return Holly’s call and accept her offer of dinner—and dessert. His occasional friend-with-benefits was fun and single and, most importantly, she’d never asked for anything more than he was willing to give. Yes, he should definitely call Holly back.

“Coffee would be great,” he said instead.

Lauryn led him into the house. After setting Zachary in his playpen, she started the coffee brewing.

“I wanna dwink, too,” Kylie said, retrieving a juice box from the fridge.

“Okay,” Lauryn agreed, unwrapping the straw and inserting it into the top of the box.

The little girl took a sip, then set it aside. “Cookie?”

This time her mother shook her head. “You already had cookies at Grandma’s.”

So Kylie turned her attention to Ryder. “Cookie?” she asked hopefully, adding a smile for good measure.

He chuckled. “Sorry—I don’t have any cookies.”

The little girl pouted.

“Your coloring book and crayons are still on the table in the living room,” Lauryn told her daughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, Kylie turned toward the living room.

“You’re going to have your hands full with that one,” Ryder said to Lauryn.

“They’re full enough already,” she admitted, setting a mug of coffee and the sugar in front of him.

“How old is she?”

“Three and a half.”

“And the little guy?” he asked, glancing at the playpen where the baby had managed to pull himself to his feet and was gnawing on the frame.

Lauryn’s gaze followed his as she sat down across from him with her own mug. “Seven months and—as you can see—teething.”

He frowned. “Didn’t you say your husband left nine months ago?”

“I did,” she confirmed.

“It must have been hard on you—having the baby without him,” he noted.

She shrugged. “My sister Tristyn was there.”

“The one who forged your signature on the application?”

“I thought we were going to pretend I didn’t tell you that.”

“We were,” he acknowledged. “But then I thought that we might be able to use your sisters in the introductory segment—put them in front of the cameras and let them explain why they wanted this renovation for you.”

“They’d probably love that,” she said. “But Tristyn’s job requires her to travel a lot, so it would depend on when you planned to film the segment.”

“Monday,” he told her.

“Monday—as in five days from now?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” she admitted. “I mean—I’m still not entirely comfortable with this, but I guess Monday is as good a day as any to begin.”

“Do you think your sisters can be here?” he asked.

She shrugged again. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, they owe me—even if they don’t know it yet.”

“Hopefully, by the time we’re done, you’ll be thanking rather than blaming them,” he told her.

“Hopefully,” she agreed, then sighed when she saw Kylie slip back into the room and open a cupboard beside the fridge. “No more cookies.”

“But I’m hungwy.”

Lauryn stood up and moved to the stove, twisting a knob to turn it on. “Dinner won’t be too long,” she promised.

She took a yogurt tube out of the fridge and snipped off the top.

“Is Mister Wyder gonna have dinner wif us?” Kylie asked, taking the tube from her.

“Oh. Um.” She felt her cheeks flush as she delicately tried to wiggle out of the awkward position her daughter had put her in. “I’m sure Ryder already has plans for dinner.”

Kylie turned to him. “Do you?”

“Actually, I don’t have plans,” he told her.

“You have dinner wif us?” she asked again.

His gaze shifted from the little girl to her mother. “What are you cooking?”

“Meat loaf,” she told him, taking the already prepared pan from the refrigerator and sliding it into the oven. “With a side of mac and cheese and salad.”

She hadn’t planned on adding macaroni and cheese to the meal, but she wasn’t sure that the meat loaf and salad would stretch far enough to feed all of them if he decided to stay.

“Sounds good,” he decided.

She eyed him skeptically. “Really?”

He smiled, and she felt an unexpected warmth spread through her veins. “Well, it sounds a lot better than the pizza I probably would have ordered at home.”

“I like pizza,” Kylie told him.

“So do I,” he admitted. “But it gets kind of monotonous when you eat it four or five times a week.”

“What’s mon-tin-us?”

“Monotonous,” he said again, enunciating clearly. “And it means boring.”

Lauryn took a pot out of the cupboard and filled it with water, then set it on the stove to boil.

Although she would have been able to get two meals out of the meat loaf if she was only feeding herself and the kids, she was glad he was staying. She’d had a really crappy day and while she certainly wouldn’t have sought out any company, she was grateful for the distraction. Because as long as Ryder was there, she didn’t have to think about how spectacularly she’d screwed up her life or try to figure out how she was supposed to put all of the broken pieces back together again. As an added bonus, he was great with her kids—and, she admitted to herself, really nice to look at.

“Can I help with anything?” Ryder offered.

She shook her head. “The salad is in the fridge, the meat loaf is in the oven, and the mac and cheese will only take ten minutes after the water boils. But if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m just going to run upstairs to change into something more forgiving of sticky fingers.”

Ryder nodded.

She was gone less than three minutes, exchanging her dry-clean-only business attire for a comfortable pair of faded jeans and a peasant-style blouse. When she returned to the kitchen, he was refilling his mug of coffee from the pot.

She picked up her own abandoned cup and sat down across from him.

Ryder ran his fingers over the surface of the table. He had really great hands—a workman’s hands—strong and capable. “I noticed you’ve got a lot of quality furniture inside this house with the leaky roof, falling-down porch and ugly kitchen.”

“I took advantage of the employee discount at Garrett Furniture,” she told him.

He lifted a brow. “Not the family discount?”

“I didn’t think it would take you too long to figure it out after Kylie mentioned Justin and Avery’s wedding.”

“Did you want it to remain a secret?” he asked.

She sipped her coffee. “No. But I don’t want the Garrett name used on the show.”

“Why not?”

Because she was embarrassed enough about her financial situation, and the last thing she wanted was to cause embarrassment to her family. She knew it wasn’t easy for her parents to overlook all of the work that needed to be done in her home. More than once, her father had offered to call a handyman friend to fix the leaky plumbing in the kitchen, to replace some questionable boards in the front porch, to secure the wobbly ceiling fan in the master bedroom. Every time, Lauryn had refused because her husband had promised to take care of the problems.

It was harder to turn away her cousins when they showed up at the door, as Andrew and Nathan had done a few times. It was thanks to them that she had a secure handrail leading to the laundry room in the basement and shelves in the nursery. And the new locks on the doors were courtesy of Daniel, who had installed them within hours of learning that Rob had walked out on his family. Not that she intended to admit any of that to the man seated across the table from her now.

“Can’t you just respect my wishes on this?” she finally said.

He considered for a minute, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Well, that was easy,” she said both grateful and a little dubious.

“Did you expect me to be difficult?”

“You weren’t nearly as agreeable when I asked you to get off my property this morning,” she reminded him.

“I know you’re not thrilled about being part of the show, but everything will go much more smoothly if you accept that we’re on the same team,” he told her.

“Are we?”

“Why do you doubt it?”

She shrugged. “A lot of so-called reality TV shows are all about the conflict and drama.”

“Maybe you should watch a few episodes of Ryder to the Rescue before you sign the contract,” he advised.

“Maybe I will,” she agreed.

“In the meantime—” he nodded toward the stove “—your water is boiling.”

She hurried to open the window above the sink, to let the steamy air escape, because the range fan didn’t work. Then she opened the box of macaroni and dumped the noodles into the pot.

Ryder found plates and cutlery and set the table. She started to tell him that she would do it, because she was accustomed to doing everything on her own, then she decided that it was nice—at least this once—to have some help. Besides, while she finished the preparations for dinner, she was able to watch him move around her kitchen—and she really liked watching him move.

After making the pasta sauce, she called Kylie for dinner, then dished up her food while the little girl was washing up. She cut up some meat for Zachary and added a spoonful of macaroni, then slid his plate into the freezer while she settled him into his high chair and buckled the belt around his middle. Kylie had already climbed into her booster seat and was shoveling spoonfuls of macaroni and cheese into her mouth.

“Ketchup, please.”

Lauryn grabbed the bottle of ketchup from the fridge, shook it up and squirted a dollop onto her daughter’s plate—close to but not touching the meat—then set the bottle on the table.

“Umm umm,” Zachary was making his hungry noises and reaching toward his sister’s plate.

“Yours is just cooling off,” Lauryn promised, offering a sippy cup of milk to tide him over.

He immediately put the spout in his mouth, took a drink, then tossed the cup aside. “Umm umm,” he demanded.

Holding back a sigh, she bent to retrieve it, but Ryder had already scooped it off the floor and set it on the table. It was then she noticed that his fork was still beside his plate, his food untouched.

“Please don’t wait for me,” Lauryn told him. “Your dinner will get cold if you do.”

“No colder than yours,” he pointed out.

She opened the door of the freezer to check on Zachary’s meal. “I’m used to it. Sometimes the kids are finished before I get a chance to start.”

Satisfied with the temperature of the baby’s food, she set the plate in front of him. Zachary, like his sister, did not stand on ceremony but immediately shoved a hand into the macaroni.

Lauryn uncurled his fingers and wrapped them around the handle of the spoon she’d given to him. He held on to the utensil, then used the other hand to pick up a piece of meat. Shaking her head, she sat down at her plate and wiped her fingers on a napkin.

Only when she was seated did Ryder pick up his own fork. Not even her husband had ever waited for her to sit down before digging into his own meal, but she pushed that memory aside.

She’d taken the first bite of her dinner when the sky suddenly grew dark and she heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. But it was distant—far, far away, she assured herself, stabbing her fork into a piece of meat just as the skies opened up and rain poured down.

She pushed the meat around until Ryder reached across the table and put his hand over hers. She jolted at the unexpected contact, her fork slipping from her fingers and clattering against the edge of her plate, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

“The tarps will hold,” he told her.

She nodded, grateful for his reassurance and a little unnerved that this man, whom she’d met only hours earlier, had so easily followed the direction of her thoughts. Even more unnerving was the way her skin had warmed and her pulse had leaped in response to his touch.

She slowly drew her hand away. “Did you want more meat loaf?”

“I wouldn’t mind another slice.”

She pushed away from the table and reached for his plate.

“I can get it,” he told her.

“More milk, please,” Kylie said, lifting up her empty cup.

“I can get that, too,” Ryder said, when she started to rise again.

Settling back in her seat, Lauryn forced herself to take another bite of her dinner. She blamed the rain for her loss of appetite, because she was worried about potential new leaks.

But she was more worried about the sudden and unexpected tingles she’d felt all the way to her toes when Ryder touched her.


Chapter Four (#ulink_89dc352b-d9ca-5e24-8daf-f47f7b4aabe1)

Meat loaf and macaroni and cheese seemed to Ryder like a traditional family meal, but he couldn’t be certain. He’d grown up in a family that was anything but traditional, with two parents who spent more time at their respective jobs than at home and happily abdicated responsibility for the upbringing of their children to the nanny.

He and Avery had been lucky there, because Hennie had been wonderful. Right up until Ryder was twelve and Avery fifteen, when George and Cristina—long divorced but still making such decisions together—had concluded that their children didn’t need a caregiver anymore.

Spending time with Lauryn and her children was almost like entering a whole new world—and not one in which he felt entirely comfortable. He was accustomed to eating alone, and usually in front of the television. Except when his sister took pity on him and invited him over for a meal. He appreciated those invitations for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that Avery was a fabulous cook. He also suspected that those invitations would be fewer and further between now that his sister had a husband and a baby.

By the time Zachary had finished all of his meat and noodles, his face and fingers were covered with cheese sauce. He even had bits of ground beef and macaroni in his hair.

“I think someone needs a bath,” Lauryn said, when she took his empty plate away.

“Zach!” Kylie declared.

“Well, Zachary’s going to get his first,” her mother agreed.

“Why don’t Kylie and I tidy up the kitchen while you clean up the little guy?” Ryder suggested.

“You don’t have to do that,” she protested.

“I don’t mind,” he told her, because it seemed only fair that he should do something to show his appreciation for the delicious meal. On the other hand, he couldn’t deny there was a part of him that was itching to make his escape from this unfamiliar yet somehow temptingly cozy situation.

The whole dinner scene had been a little too domestic for him—and a lot outside his comfort zone. Being around the sexy single mom and her adorable kids was creating some unfamiliar and unwelcome feelings.

Attraction was a simple emotion, and he had no trouble recognizing and acknowledging his attraction to Lauryn. It was the other stuff that was getting all tangled up inside of him. Because aside from the fact that she turned him on, there were a lot of reasons that he simply liked her. She was smart and warm and kind, and it was readily obvious that she doted on her kids.

And that was the crux of the problem right there—she had children. Children were a complication and Ryder didn’t want complications in his life. At least he never had before.

But since his sister had gotten married and had had her baby and he’d seen how those new bonds had enriched her life, he’d begun to wonder if there wasn’t something to be said for familial connections.

He’d always admired Avery’s intelligence and drive and ambition. But since she’d fallen in love with Justin Garrett, he saw something in her that he hadn’t before: joy. It was almost as if there had been a piece missing from her life, but she’d never known it until she met him.

Ryder wasn’t looking for anyone to complete him. He was perfectly content with his life. Yet, spending time with Lauryn and Kylie and Zachary tonight, he found himself wondering if maybe he wasn’t ready for something more.

Uncomfortable with those feelings, he pushed them aside to be considered at a later date—or preferably not at all.

“I think you should stop arguing with me,” he said to Lauryn now, “and get Zachary in the bath before he falls asleep in his high chair.”

She shifted her attention to the baby, whose chin was against his chest, his eyelids visibly drooping. “That’s a good plan,” she agreed, unhooking the tray and then lifting him out of his seat.

As soon as she picked him up, Zachary rubbed his face against her shoulder, leaving a smear of cheese sauce on her shirt. Lauryn either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and for some reason he found that incredibly appealing.

Most of the women he’d dated over the past few years had been preoccupied with their clothes and hair and makeup, and he found it tiresome to date a woman who rushed off to reapply her lipstick after a meal or was constantly fluffing her hair or adjusting her hemlines. Of course, he’d never dated someone with kids, and he suspected it was natural for a woman’s priorities to change when she became a mother—his own being an obvious exception.

Kids were loud and messy and demanding, and he already knew that was true of both Kylie and Zachary. They were also innocent and trusting and adorable. And while he’d been immediately charmed by the little girl who was full of energy and curiosity, and undoubtedly intrigued by the little boy who seemed to see everything but say nothing, he decided that it would be smart to take a step back. Maybe even two.

Because Lauryn and Kylie and Zachary were a family, and he was a contented bachelor with no desire to change that status.

Wasn’t he?

* * *

At eleven o’clock on Saturday, Lauryn met both of her sisters at the Morning Glory Café for brunch. After Lauryn had married Rob, she’d discovered that she didn’t get to see Jordyn and Tristyn nearly as often as she used to, and that was how the monthly “Sisters’ Saturday” tradition began.

“I had an interesting visitor Wednesday morning,” Lauryn said, sprinkling pepper on the home fries that accompanied her scrambled eggs and sausage.

“Who?” Jordyn asked, drowning her pancakes in syrup.

“Can’t you guess?”

Tristyn stabbed a piece of melon with her fork. “Is it someone that we know?”

“It turns out that there is a loose familial connection.”

“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity,” Jordyn admitted.

“Ryder Wallace.”

Tristyn’s fork slipped from her fingers. “Ryder to the Rescue?”

Lauryn nodded. “Apparently the home renovation expert is Justin’s new wife’s brother.”

“I knew that,” Tristyn admitted, picking up her utensil again.

“But why was he at your house?” Jordyn asked, her tone equal parts curious and cautious as she cut into a pancake.

“That’s what I wondered—and then he told me that my application was selected as one of the grand prize winners in WNCC’s Room Rescue contest.”

“Oh, my God!” Tristyn practically squealed with delight. “That is so awesome.”

“And surprising, considering that I never submitted an application,” Lauryn pointed out. “In fact, I’d never even heard of the contest. So imagine my surprise when he showed me the application with my name and signature on it.”

Her sisters exchanged a look.

“Actually, that’s kind of a funny story,” Jordyn began.

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Lauryn told her.

“Obviously you know it was us,” Tristyn said, stirring her yogurt and granola. “And we’re not going to apologize, because somebody had to do something.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we never expected that our—your—application would actually be chosen,” Jordyn admitted.

“But it was,” she pointed out. “And I felt like a complete idiot when Ryder Wallace showed up at my door and I had absolutely no idea why he was there.”

“I can see how that might have been a little awkward,” Jordyn conceded.

“It was more than a little awkward.”

“Is he as hot in person as he is on TV?” Tristyn asked curiously.

She’d followed Ryder’s advice and decided to watch a few episodes of his show. As a result, she could answer her sister’s question sincerely. “Much hotter.”

“Damn, I wish I’d been there.”

Lauryn couldn’t deny that there was an indescribable something about the man that any woman would find appealing. He was strong and sexy and incredibly charismatic, and after only a few hours in his company, she was halfway toward a serious infatuation. Of course, after being married to a man who didn’t know how to hang a picture on the wall, it probably wasn’t surprising that she’d be intrigued by a take-charge guy who owned his tools and knew how to use them. “You can be there Monday.”

“What’s Monday?” Jordyn asked, smiling her thanks to the waitress who refilled her mug with coffee.

“The whole crew is coming to the house on Monday and Ryder wants the two of you to explain, on camera, why you submitted the application for me,” she told her sisters.

“Then he is going to remodel your kitchen?”

“And fix a few other things,” she acknowledged.

“Why don’t you sound more excited?” Tristyn asked. “You’re finally going to get rid of those ugly cupboards and even uglier linoleum.”

She swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “With the added bonus of a bunch of strangers traipsing through my house.”

“They’re not going to be there forever,” Tristyn pointed out. “Just long enough to give you a fabulous kitchen makeover—which you’ve wanted since you bought that place.”

“I know. But I thought...” She sighed. “I thought Rob and I would do it.”

There was silence for a moment before Jordyn cautiously asked, “Do you...miss him?”

“No,” she replied, a little ashamed to admit that it was true. But her ex-husband had stopped being a factor in her life long before he walked out on their marriage.

“Good.”

Her eyes widened in response to the vehemence in her sister’s tone.

“I’m sorry,” Jordyn said. “But none of us ever thought he was good enough for you.”

“I thought he was perfect—and I felt so lucky that he picked me.”

“You are lucky,” Tristyn said. “Because you got two wonderful kids out of the deal.”

“And because you’ve got the two best sisters in the world,” Jordyn chimed in.

Lauryn smiled. “You’re right—on both counts.”

“And you get to spend the afternoon at Serenity Spa with those sisters,” Jordyn added.

She shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry, I can’t go today.”

“What do you mean—you can’t go?” Tristyn demanded.

“I don’t have the time...or the money,” she admitted.

“It’s a Garrett sisters’ tradition,” Jordyn reminded her. “And we’re not letting you skip out on it—again.”

Lauryn looked away. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I had an appointment at the bank on Wednesday and discovered that my financial situation is even more dismal than I realized.”

“How dismal?” Tristyn asked gently.

“The business is mortgaged to the hilt.”

“But you knew that,” Jordyn reminded her. “That’s why you should sell it, or let the bank take it and all of the headaches that go with it.”

“I was starting to see the benefits of that plan,” Lauryn admitted. “Until I found out the business also has a secured line of credit.”

Her sisters exchanged another look, this one confirming that they’d both guessed how it was secured.

Jordyn winced. “Oh, no.”

“The house,” Tristyn whispered.

Lauryn nodded and pushed her plate away, her appetite gone.

“But how is that possible?” Jordyn wondered. “Wouldn’t Rob have needed you to sign any paperwork?”

“Signatures can be forged,” Tristyn reminded her, looking guilty because they’d done exactly that for the Room Rescue.

“They can,” Lauryn agreed. “But he didn’t forge my signature.”

“You didn’t—you wouldn’t—jeopardize your home,” Jordyn asserted.

“You’re right—I wouldn’t. At least not knowingly. But I did sign the papers,” she admitted. “Based on the date of the application, when Kylie was about three months old.”

“And colicky,” Tristyn remembered.

She nodded. “I remember Rob came home early one day with flowers. That should have been a clue, because he never came home early. Or with flowers.

“He told me that the business was doing well, but there was some new vendor—I don’t remember whether it was equipment or apparel—but they were offering him exclusive retail rights for the area if he could commit to carrying the entire line in his inventory. He said that he’d been to the bank to get a loan and, because he was married, they wanted my signature, too.”

She looked away, embarrassed and ashamed that she’d been so foolish. “I just signed the papers where he told me to. I didn’t even read them.

“And now—” she fought against the tears that burned behind her eyes “—if I let the bank foreclose on the business, they could take the house, too.”

“Then we need to come up with a plan to save the business,” Jordyn said.

“And since my brain functions much better when I’m relaxed, we’ll brainstorm some ideas after the spa.”

“I already told you, I can’t—”

“You can’t say no,” Tristyn interjected. “Mom made all the arrangements—and paid for it.”

Lauryn sighed. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

“She didn’t just do it for you, but for all of us. Because she knows how much we all enjoy the monthly ritual.”

Because it was true—and because she loved being with the women who weren’t just her sisters but her best friends—Lauryn gave up her protest.

* * *

Sweet Serenity Boutique & Spa was located in a renovated three-story Colonial Revival home in Northbrook, offering different services on different levels. The three sisters were on the lower level now, continuing their conversation as they perused the selection of polishes for their pedicures.

“I had no idea things were as bad as they are at the store,” Lauryn confided. “Rob didn’t let me see the books. He said it was because he wanted to take care of the business, to prove that he could take care of us.”

“And a piss-poor job he did of both,” Jordyn said bluntly.

Lauryn could only nod. “But I loved him. Maybe I was naive but, for a long time, I really did love him.”

“I know you did,” Tristyn said sympathetically.

“And you’ll fall in love again,” Jordyn told her.

“Jesus, I hope not,” Lauryn said.

Her recently—and happily—married sister frowned. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because I have no desire to repeat past mistakes.” She sipped from her glass of cucumber-and-lime-infused spring water.

“You wouldn’t,” Jordyn said confidently. “Your relationship with Rob was a learning experience.”

“Most importantly, I learned that I don’t need a man to complete my life.”

“As if he ever did,” Tristyn remarked dryly.

“I didn’t think I’d fall in love again,” Jordyn confided. “I didn’t think I could. And then I met Marco.”

Lauryn couldn’t help but smile at that. Marco Palermo had fallen head over heels for Jordyn and immediately set his sights on winning her heart—not an easy task. Four years earlier, Jordyn had been only weeks away from her wedding when her fiancé was killed in a car crash. As a result, she’d put up all kinds of barriers around her heart, refusing to let any man get too close. Until Marco.

While he wasn’t at all the type of guy that Lauryn would have expected to steal her sister’s heart, he was absolutely perfect for her. And they were perfect together. Lauryn was thrilled for both of them, and just a little bit envious. Because when she was with Jordyn and Marco, she realized that she’d never shared that kind of soul-deep love and connection with her own husband. But even as she lamented that fact, she wasn’t looking for the same thing now—she had more important concerns.

“I just want my kids to be safe and happy and know that I love them.”

“They are and they do,” Jordyn assured her. “And while that’s a legitimate and even admirable goal, you can’t live your life for your children.”

“Why don’t we table this discussion until you have kids of your own?” Lauryn’s tone was a little harsher than she’d intended, but neither of her sisters really understood what she was going through. They couldn’t know the joy that filled her heart every time she looked at her children—or how much pressure she felt always trying to do what was best for them.

Thankfully, Jordyn wasn’t offended by her sharp retort. And the thought of a baby—Marco’s baby—was enough to make her deep green eyes go all misty and dreamy.

Unfortunately, Tristyn wasn’t so easily distracted. “But what do you want?” she asked Lauryn.

I want to not worry that my bank card is going to be declined at the gas station because I just bought diapers and formula.

Not that she would admit as much to her sisters. Telling them about the business was one thing; whining about her personal finances was something else entirely. Her mistakes were her own and she was determined to fix them on her own. Of course, now that the bank had rejected her proposal, her options had gone from limited to almost nonexistent, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

“Well, I have been thinking about making some changes in my life,” she finally confided. “Maybe dyeing my hair to test the old adage about blondes having more fun.”

Her sisters exchanged a look, and she knew they were both thinking of Roxi—the perky blonde yoga instructor that Lauryn’s husband had run off with.

“Or red,” she said, because the color didn’t matter as much as the change it would symbolize.

Tristyn shook her head. “Do you remember when I went red—or tried to? It took my stylist three hours to undo what I’d done, and he made me promise that if I ever wanted a drastic change I would stick to the color on my toes.”

Lauryn looked at the pale pink and white polishes she’d chosen for her standard French pedicure.

Tristyn handed her the bottle of sparkly purple that she’d selected. “Go wild,” she advised. “But in a way that won’t do any long-term damage.”

Lauryn looked at the color—equal parts intrigued and wary—and decided it was time to step out of her comfort zone. At least a little.


Chapter Five (#ulink_475474c4-1a33-5bcf-b758-0e45308196f4)

Ryder loved his job. Of course, he’d prefer doing it without cameras recording him every step of the way, but he’d long ago accepted that as a necessary trade-off for being able to do the work he wanted to do. Ryder to the Rescue was currently one of the top-rated programs at WNCC, with a viewership that continued to grow with each successive season, but Virginia Gennings, the producer, wanted to keep the show fresh and the Room Rescue contest was her latest brainstorm.

Ryder’s only real objection had come when Owen had delegated the task of choosing the contest winners to him. Three winners out of more than nine hundred entries from as far away as Texas and Seattle, with requests that ranged from a modest bathroom rehab to the complete reconfiguration of a floor plan. Owen’s criteria for selection: stories that would appeal to viewers. Which meant that Ryder’s original plan—to put all of the entries in a box and draw three at random—fell by the wayside as he spent hours reading application after application, sorting them into three distinct groupings of Maybe, No and No Way in Hell.

The majority of applications that went into the third pile were those that included naked pictures and explicit offers to express appreciation for his work when the cameras were gone or, in one notable case, with the cameras still rolling. The requests for free renovations by home owners who could well afford to pay for the work they wanted done landed in the No file. And then there was the Maybe group, from which he selected the winners.

Lauryn Schulte’s application had appealed to him for several reasons, including her reference to the husband who didn’t have time to do the renovation. Because the existence of a husband meant it was much less likely that he’d have to fend off the attention of an overzealous fan—a sticky situation that was occurring more frequently, seemingly in direct correlation to the show’s increasing popularity.

According to Virginia, Ryder was the whole package—smart, sexy, strong and charismatic—and the female viewership of Ryder to the Rescue was so high because women trusted him and wanted to invite him into their homes. But Ryder liked to keep his private life private. Okay, so maybe he did date a lot of women, but he didn’t dish about any of them and he made it clear that if they dished, they were history. As a result, for the first few seasons that the show was on the air, he’d mostly managed to keep a low profile.

Until the previous spring when he’d agreed to help Carl, one of his cameramen, build a deck on the back of his house. It was a simple project—a few hours’ work on a sunny Saturday afternoon—and he hadn’t hesitated when Carl asked if he was available. But it was a sunny and hot Saturday afternoon, and it hadn’t taken him long to decide to strip off his T-shirt, as the other guys had also done. But he was the only one whose name was in the title of the show, and one of Carl’s wife’s friends had snapped a photo of #shirtlessRyder #summerdays and tweeted it to all of her friends. Apparently, the damn photo had gone viral, resulting in an endless discussion on social media about his #yummymuscles. He’d been appalled when Carl sheepishly brought it to his attention; Virginia had been delighted.

Since then, he’d been heralded not just as America’s Hottest Handyman but also the Sexiest Man on WNCC. As a result, he’d become the target of much female admiration and media attention. And when WNCC launched the Room Rescue contest and had let it be known that all applications would be personally reviewed by the show’s host, it was an opportunity for women to throw their pictures and phone numbers at Ryder in the hopes that, even if he didn’t bring his construction crew to their homes, he might call.

He didn’t.

The first project chosen was a master suite reno for a young couple near Anderson, South Carolina. The second assignment took his crew to Montana to finish a basement apartment for the college freshman son of a forty-seven-year-old widow in Miles City. The final winning application was Lauryn’s.

Kitchen and bathroom renovations tended to be popular because they directly added to the value of a home, providing a good return on investment when it came time to resell the property. As a result, he’d done a lot of kitchen upgrades and remodels on the show. And while he wasn’t overjoyed at the thought of starting yet another one, he was happy to finally be back home and able to sleep in his own bed.

Of course, he now knew that one of the main factors that had weighed in favor of Lauryn’s application was no longer valid—the husband who had never found the time to do the renovation work was gone from her life. On the other hand, her two children obviously kept her busy enough that he didn’t anticipate she would be an impediment to the project. She’d also shown less than zero interest in his celebrity status or #yummymuscles, making it clear that the only reason he was being allowed access to her house was that she desperately needed the new roof he’d promised to provide.

So what was it about the single mother that made her so unforgettable? With her long, dark hair, creamy skin, gray-green eyes and perfectly sculpted mouth, she was undeniably beautiful, but he’d met a lot of beautiful women over the years without becoming fixated on any of them.

Or maybe his fascination was with the kids rather than their mother. Because when he looked at Kylie and Zachary, he couldn’t help but think about his sister and himself and the scars that were a result of growing up in a broken home. But Kylie and Zachary had one clear advantage over Avery and Ryder: an amazing mother who, despite the weight of so many responsibilities on her slender shoulders, did everything she could to ensure her children felt loved and secure.

And they were great kids. Zachary was an adorable and affectionate child with big blue eyes that seemed to take everything in. Kylie was a dynamo with silky dark curls and the sweetest Cupid’s-bow mouth that was always quick to smile. She was fearless enough to climb up an open staircase into a dark attic, smart enough to be uncertain about making the trip back down and trusting enough to let him carry her out again.

Her mother wasn’t nearly as trusting—but maybe she had reasons to be wary, having been abandoned by her husband when she was pregnant with their second child. Not only that, he’d gotten the impression that she hadn’t heard from the guy since. Ryder shook his head, wondering what kind of person walked out on his family. But why did he care? Why did he wish he could make things better for her? Especially when she’d given no indication that she wanted or needed anyone to take care of her.

Whatever the reasons, he was suddenly looking forward to this project a lot more than he’d expected.

* * *

After the spa, Lauryn and her sisters browsed a few of the local shops. Jordyn oohed and aahed over the jewelry display in Zahara’s but didn’t buy anything. She’d always loved fun and funky accessories, but since her marriage to Marco, she rarely wore anything more than the rings he’d put on her finger.

“Look at this,” Jordyn said, holding up a hanger with a purple satin demi-cup bra with matching bikini panties.

“Why do you need something like that? You’re practically still on your honeymoon,” Tristyn noted.

“I wasn’t thinking for me, but for Lauryn.”

She eyed the lingerie warily. “I don’t think that’s quite my style.”

“The color matches your toenails,” her sister pointed out.

“Which is proof that I’ve ventured far enough out of my comfort zone for today.”

“I think Jordyn’s right,” Tristyn said. “You need to make a statement. Be bold. Be sexy.”

“Who am I making a statement to?”

“Yourself,” Jordyn said. “You’re the only one who matters.”

“I’m more of a white lace kind of girl,” she told them.

“Because you like white lace or because Rob liked you in white lace?” Tristyn challenged.

Realizing that the answer to her sister’s question was the latter, Lauryn impulsively grabbed the hanger from Jordyn’s hand. “You’re right—just because I’ve never worn purple satin doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t try it.”





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