Building the Perfect Daddy (3 page)

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

R
yder 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.”