Building the Perfect Daddy (7 page)

The color in Lauryn's cheeks deepened in response to the teasing. “You remember my sister, Tristyn?”

He nodded. “I apologize for the wake-up call.”

“Please don't,” she said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “I'm happy to tell everyone I know that I was awakened by America's Hottest Handyman.”

He winced. “I'd rather you didn't.”

“While you two conduct your meeting of the Ryder Wallace Fan Club, I'm going to go drown myself in the shower,” Lauryn told them.

“There's coffee on in the kitchen,” Tristyn said.

Lauryn nodded as she headed back toward the house.

“Coffee?” Ryder echoed hopefully.

“Come on in,” she invited.

He followed her through the front door, down the short, wide hallway to the kitchen, where the scent of the fresh brew teased his nostrils.

Tristyn, obviously at home in her sister's kitchen, took down two mugs from the cupboard and filled them from the carafe. “Cream or sugar?” she asked him.

“Sugar, please.”

She retrieved the bowl and a spoon and set them on the counter. She drank her own black—and watched him so intently he began to feel as if he was in
his
pajamas.

“Is something wrong?” he finally asked.

“Not at all,” she assured him. “The dim lighting in the bar didn't really do you justice, and I was just appreciating the fact that you're even better looking in person than on TV.”

“Thank you,” he said cautiously.

“Don't worry—I'm not hitting on you. Not that I wouldn't be tempted, under other circumstances,” she admitted. “But even a little foggy from the tequila last night, I could see the sparks between you and Lauryn. Which is why I was so puzzled when you left with the clingy blonde in the clingier red dress.”

“I think the tequila had more of an effect than you realized,” he told her, ignoring her comment about the blonde.

“Are you denying that there's a certain...chemistry...between you and my sister?”

“I think you're misinterpreting friction as attraction,” he told her. “She's not at all looking forward to her home being invaded by me and my crew.”

“I know,” she admitted.

“But you didn't anticipate that when you forged her name on an application?”

“I suspected that she might have some objections,” Tristyn acknowledged. “But when we sent in the application, we didn't really think it would be chosen. Not out of the hundreds you must have received.”

“Actually, we got close to a thousand,” he told her.

“And somehow, out of all of those, you selected Lauryn's application,” she mused.

“You mean
your
application.”

She chose to ignore the clarification. “It kind of makes me think that fate had a hand in your selection.”

“Fate?” he echoed dubiously.

“I was a skeptic, too,” she told him. “But the way the stars aligned for my other sister and her husband last year, I'm starting to believe some things might be written in the heavens.”

“And that excuses you signing your sister's name?”

“Sometimes the end does justify the means. And Lauryn deserves this. She
needs
this. After everything she's been through this past year...and years before.”

He didn't ask. Though Ryder was undeniably curious about Lauryn's history, it wasn't really any of his business.

“So how did you get her to agree to it?” Tristyn asked him.

“I had a little help from Mother Nature,” he admitted.

“The leaky roof?” she guessed.

He nodded. “The rain was coming into Kylie's bedroom.”

“If it had been her own bedroom, she would have put out buckets and lived with it as long as she had to,” Tristyn said. “If you've been given a tour of the house, you probably noticed that Kylie's and Zachary's rooms are the only ones that have been updated in forty years.”

“I noticed,” he confirmed.

“Rob made her so many promises...” Tristyn trailed off, shaking her head. “He agreed to everything she wanted when they were first married—and did absolutely nothing.”

“You obviously weren't a fan.”

“No,” she admitted. “I tried to like him, because Lauryn loved him, but I couldn't get beyond reluctant tolerance.”

“He couldn't have been that bad if your sister stayed with him for so long,” Ryder surmised.

“Lauryn doesn't like to fail at anything. Once she spoke her vows, she was determined to do everything in her power to make the marriage work. But a relationship takes two people, and Rob wasn't half as committed as she was.”

Maybe he should have felt guilty that he was talking to Lauryn's sister about her, but he wasn't interrogating her—they were just having a conversation. And he suspected that Tristyn wouldn't tell him anything she didn't want him to know.

Especially not with Lauryn's footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Feel better?” Tristyn asked when her sister entered the kitchen.

“Much.” Lauryn poured herself a mug of coffee, added a splash of milk and took a long sip.

“You found your clothes,” Ryder noted. “I'm disappointed.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Aren't you supposed to be working on the roof?”

“Everything's under control,” he assured her.

“Where's the camera crew?” Tristyn asked. “There doesn't seem to be anyone filming what you're doing today.”

“Lucky for your sister,” he teased.

Now that the shower had washed away the tequila-induced cobwebs, Lauryn could admit that her decision to storm outside and confront Ryder had been both impulsive and regrettable. Unfortunately, there was no way to undo what she had done, so she attempted to appeal to his sense of decency instead. “Can we
please
just forget about this morning?”

“I don't think so,” he said. “But I can stop talking about your underwear, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I was wearing
pajamas
,” she said through gritted teeth.

“The camera crew?” Tristyn prompted again, in an obvious attempt to redirect the conversation.

“They don't usually work weekends and they don't work at all without a signed contract.” He slid an envelope across the table. “The terms have been revised, per our previous discussion. Now we just need your signature.”

“If you don't have a contract, why are you here?” Tristyn asked.

“Because I wanted to get the roof done before it rained again. Thankfully, it's in pretty good shape.” He turned his attention back to Lauryn. “Dalton said the biggest problem was some patchwork that was done around the chimney without replacing the flashing—that's why the water was getting into your attic and then Kylie's bedroom from there.

“And speaking of the attic,” he continued, “do you mind if I take another look up there to ensure everything's drying out?”

“Of course not,” she said. Then Lauryn thought about the fact that the attic access was in her bedroom—and the new lingerie her sisters had bought for her was on top of her dresser. “But why don't you have another cup of coffee first?”

“Why?” he asked, obviously having picked up on something in her tone.

“Because...I can't remember if I made my bed,” she improvised, setting down her mug and heading back to the stairs.

“I've seen unmade beds before,” he assured her.

“Just give me a minute,” she said, hurrying up to her bedroom. She swept the lingerie off the dresser and into the top drawer. And then, because her bed was unmade, she took a minute to pull up the sheets and comforter.

Ryder stepped into the room just as she was tying back the curtains. Sunlight spilled through the window, illuminating a scrap of red fabric on the floor in front of the dresser.

He bent down and picked it up.

She suspected that her face burned a brighter shade of crimson than the thong dangling from Ryder's finger.

“As much as I liked your pajamas,” he said, “I like your underwear even more.”

Chapter Seven

L
auryn snatched the lacy fabric out of his hand and stuffed it into the drawer. “You wanted to look in the attic,” she reminded him.

“I did,” he agreed, intrigued by the color in her cheeks. “But now I'm much more interested in the goodies you have in that dresser.”

“Could you
please
focus on the reason you're here?”

“I can multitask,” he assured her, reaching up to lower the staircase. “As for the reason I'm here...did you ever consider that this room could use a makeover?”

“Never,” she told him.

“That was sarcasm, right?”

“No, I think the blue-and-green-plaid wallpaper really works with the chocolate comforter and pink accents.”

“That was definitely sarcasm,” he noted.

She looked around the room, shrugged. “I was going to tear it down,” she admitted. “Whoever owned the house before we bought it obviously loved bold-patterned wallpaper, because it was
everywhere
. But after the hassle of scraping ugly roosters off Kylie's walls, I decided I could live with this plaid a little while longer.”

“There were roosters in Kylie's room?”

“And flocked velvet flowers on a black background in what is now Zachary's room,” she told him.

“I guess there's no accounting for taste,” he acknowledged.

“And while I obviously want to get rid of this plaid at some point in time, it's not something I'm anxious to tackle with two kids underfoot. And, truthfully, I've become so accustomed to it that I don't even see it anymore.” She shrugged. “And since nobody else usually sees it, I don't worry about it.”

He figured he'd have to be blind not to see the wallpaper, but he chose to focus on the first part of her statement, instead. “The kids aren't here now, and I'd be happy to help you strip.” He grinned. “The wallpaper, I mean.”

“While I appreciate the offer,” she said, in a tone that sounded less than appreciative, “I don't have time today. I have to be at The Locker Room before noon.”

“Zumba class?” he guessed, because she didn't look like the type to pump iron.

“What?”

“Is that what you do at the gym?” He'd dated a Zumba instructor a few months previously and now had a keen appreciation for the benefits of aerobic dance on the female body.

She smiled as she shook her head. “I'm not going to work out but to work. The Locker Room is my business.”

“I thought you worked at Garrett Furniture.”

“Not since my ex left me his failing sporting goods store in exchange for all of the money in our joint bank accounts.”

“Your husband really was a prince, wasn't he?”

“There was a time when I thought he was,” she admitted. “And that was my mistake.”

While her tone was matter-of-fact, her eyes were filled with so much sadness he was immediately contrite. “I'm sorry.”

“You were on your way up to the attic,” she reminded him again, a clear indication that their conversation was at an end.

He nodded and started up the stairs, but while he was inspecting the space, his mind was only half on the task. Or maybe only a third. Because another part of him was wanting to soothe her obvious heartache, and another part was wanting to see her in the lacy red thong that he'd found on the floor of her bedroom.

Until she'd stormed outside in her pajamas earlier that morning, he hadn't given a single thought to her underwear. And why would he? He was a contractor, she was his client and he'd never before crossed that line. Even when a client had made it clear that she'd be interested in playing with his tools, he'd never been tempted. Until now.

But he could—and would—resist the temptation. Because a divorcée with two small children had
complication
written all over her, and he preferred simple relationships. And red lace. Yeah, he really liked red lace. And soft curves and fragrant skin and—

Damn, her sister was right. There was some definite chemistry there. And while he was both attracted and intrigued, he knew that the best thing he could do was keep his distance from the sexy single mom. Because she was all about family, and he didn't have the first clue what it meant to be part of one.

He pushed her out of his mind and returned his attention to the ceiling. He was able to confirm that everything was drying out nicely and there were no other problem areas. There were some boxes piled in one corner, many of them marked “Christmas decorations” and several others indicating Kylie's first birthday, Kylie's baby clothes, Kylie's art and crafts. There were no less than half a dozen boxes for a child who wasn't even four years old. Obviously, Lauryn was a doting and sentimental mother—or a hopeless pack rat. His own mother had been neither—she'd never even put her children's artwork on the refrigerator, and when their nanny had done so, she'd complained about the clutter.

He shook off the memories and the melancholy, gathered the pots that he'd set out a few days earlier to collect the leaking water and headed back downstairs.

He could hear Lauryn talking before he entered the kitchen. Since it sounded like a one-sided conversation, he guessed that she was on the phone. He hesitated in the hallway, not wanting to interrupt but not wanting to eavesdrop, either.

“You're a sweetie, Jackson.” Those brief words alleviated his reluctance to listen in on her conversation. “I don't know a lot of lawyers who would take time out of their Sunday mornings to help out a nonpaying client.”

Of course, Ryder couldn't hear what Jackson said after that, but his response made Lauryn chuckle—and made Ryder wonder about her relationship with the lawyer.

“True,” she agreed. “Give my love to Kelly and the kids.”

Ryder waited until she'd set down the phone before he stepped into the kitchen. “Jackson?” he queried.

“My cousin,” she explained. “He's an attorney in upstate New York.”

He was inexplicably relieved by her explanation and glanced at the papers spread out on the table, with notes penciled in the margins. “Do you have questions about the contract?”

“Not now,” she said. “But I learned the hard way not to sign anything unless and until I understand every word.”

The slight edge to her tone suggested there was a story there—no doubt involving the ex-husband in some way—but he reminded himself that he would be doing them both a favor by keeping their relationship strictly business. No confidences or confessions required.

“And you're still not thrilled about doing the show,” he guessed.

“No, but I won't renege on our agreement,” she promised.

“Look on the bright side,” he suggested.

“There's a bright side?” she asked, sounding skeptical.

“You can finally say goodbye to this ugly brown linoleum.”

Lauryn managed a tight smile as she picked up her pen and turned to the final page, scrawling her name on the signature line without further hesitation.

Because he was right. She'd hated that floor for more than six years—although much like the plaid wallpaper in her bedroom, she'd become so accustomed to the cracked vinyl that she barely noticed it anymore. And even if Kylie had taken her first steps on that linoleum, the memories wouldn't be torn away along with the flooring. And maybe Zachary would take his first steps in the new kitchen.

Still, as she added her signature to the second copy of the contract, she couldn't help feeling that she'd sold out. Not that she really had a choice. Whether or not the producers of
Ryder to the Rescue
would really take legal action against Tristyn and Jordyn for falsifying the application, she wasn't willing to take the chance of causing any negative publicity for her family. And with the financial difficulties of The Locker Room hanging over her head, she knew there wasn't going to be any extra money for home improvements anytime soon, not to mention the new roof that was—thank you, Ryder Wallace—already being installed.

“Where'd your sister go?” he asked her now.

“My cousin Daniel picked her up to take her to Charlotte for the race today.” She slid the signed papers back into the envelope and handed it to Ryder. “So it all starts tomorrow?”

He nodded. “We'll be here by eight—I hope that's not too early.”

“That's fine.” She checked her purse for the essentials—wallet, keys, cell phone. “Are we done here now? Because I need to call a cab so that I can pick up my van.”

“I can give you a ride.”

“Oh.” While she appreciated his willingness to help her out, she knew that she should decline his offer. To another woman, the butterflies that fluttered in her tummy whenever he was near might indicate anticipation, but to Lauryn they were a warning sign—and one that she intended to heed. Which meant that she needed to set very clear boundaries for a strictly professional relationship with Ryder Wallace. “Thanks, but I don't want to take you away from your work.”

“It's not a problem,” he insisted. “And it will give us a chance to talk about your ideas for the kitchen.”

Which sounded perfectly reasonable and definitely within the boundaries of their working relationship. And it would save her the cost of cab fare. “That would be great—thanks.”

* * *

After Ryder dropped Lauryn off at her van and watched her drive away, he made a quick detour to the grocery store, then stopped by the condo where his sister now lived with her husband and new baby.

“This is a nice surprise,” Avery said, opening the door to let him in. “But definitely a surprise.”

“I wanted to see how my beautiful niece is doing.”

“What about your beautiful sister?”

He grinned and kissed her cheek. “Her, too, of course. In fact, I brought her a present,” he said, handing Avery the tub of ice cream he'd picked up.

She eyed the gift in her hand warily. “Why did you bring me ice cream?”

He frowned at her unexpected response. “It's cookies 'n' cream—isn't that your favorite?”

“It is,” she confirmed with a sigh. “But I just had a baby three weeks ago and I've still got fourteen pounds to lose.”

He reached for the container that she was eyeing with equal parts longing and suspicion. “Fine—I'll take it home with me.”

She hugged the tub to her chest and slapped at his hand. “No, you won't. You can't come in here waving ice cream around and then take it away.”

“Can I trade it for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“That sounds reasonable,” she decided.

He followed her to the kitchen, marveling over how much her life had changed this year. As much as Avery loved babies, she'd had deep-seated doubts about her ability to be a good mother—an understandable consequence of their dysfunctional upbringing.

But from the minute she learned of her pregnancy, she'd done everything possible to be the best mother that she could be. Ryder was happy for his sister because she was happy, but that didn't mean he wanted the same thing for himself. He liked being single and couldn't imagine that he'd ever want to complicate his life with marriage and kids.

“There she is,” he said softly, moving toward the kitchen island where his niece was sleeping, securely buckled into some kind of baby seat. “Is it possible that she gets cuter every time I see her?”

“Of course. And I say that with absolutely no bias whatsoever,” Avery told him.

He shifted his attention to her. “I had some reservations when you first told me about your pregnancy—and especially when you told me the father was a doctor,” he admitted. “But looking at you now...I honestly don't think I've ever seen you look happier or more content.”

“I never thought I could be this happy,” she admitted, sliding a mug of coffee across the table to him. “I lucked out with Justin—he's a wonderful husband and father. And Vanessa, fingers crossed, is a very good baby.”

“Of course, she is. She's perfect.”

Avery rolled her eyes. “So tell me what's happening with you.”

“We're finally ready to start the last Room Rescue.”

“You say that as if there was a delay.”

“It turns out the home owner wasn't thrilled by the idea of camera crews on her property,” he confided, lifting the mug to his lips to sip the coffee she'd already sweetened for him.

“She didn't think about that before she filled out the application?” his sister asked, sounding surprised.

“Well, that's another story,” he said, then realized she might be able to fill in some of the missing details. “How well do you know Justin's cousin, Lauryn?”

“Not well,” she said. “And not because of Justin. I delivered her baby.”

“Zachary.”

Her brows lifted at his use of the baby's name. “How do you—oh,” she realized. “Lauryn is the third winner of your contest?”

He nodded.

“It's starting to make sense now,” she said. “From the little that Justin has said, she's an intensely private person—not the type to compete for a spot on a television program.”

“You're right,” he confirmed, and told her about Lauryn's sisters submitting the application on her behalf.

“How did you end up picking her application, anyway?”

“I thought she was married,” he admitted. “In addition to the mention of a husband, there was a notable absence of nude photos and explicit propositions.”

She chuckled at that. “If you'd chosen an application with nude photos, you'd be facing a lot less resistance right now.”

“I'd rather deal with resistance than sexual harassment.” A slight movement caught the corner of his eye and he turned to see Vanessa lifting her arms up, her little hands clenched into fists, her tiny rosebud mouth opening in a yawn. “Hey, look who's waking up. And smiling at me.”