The Dad Next Door. Stephanie Dees
grinned. He’d definitely called that one. “I came to do a little work, but in the spirit of neighborliness, I brought you something, too.”
He dangled a pale pink paper bag from his fingertips.
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t bake something?”
“Nah. I figured you’d need real food by now.”
Joe watched as she pulled out an overstuffed chicken salad sandwich on his sister’s homemade bread. She shot him a look and took a huge bite, mumbling as her eyes closed in bliss.
“Mmm, that is so good. If I had coffee, I would be...” Her voice trailed off as he reached into the other bag and pulled out a paper to-go cup. “Wow. You might be my favorite person. Did you get this here?”
“Yep. At the bakery in town. My sister Jules’s place.” He dropped a larger brown paper bag onto a stray chair. “Not as good as Jules’s chicken salad, but what’s in this bag is also for you. New locks.”
“That’s so nice.” She finished the sandwich and rubbed the crumbs off her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge of dust behind. He laughed but didn’t bother telling her. He had a feeling she wouldn’t care. It seemed to him that whatever this woman did, she took in huge gulps, inhaling every bit and breathing out joy, even though he knew she had to be worried about the future here.
He wanted to step closer, let some of that joy seep into him. God knew he needed it. Instead, he turned toward the door. “The locks were my mom’s idea. She’s very worried about you. You have a Phillips-head screwdriver?”
She reached behind her back, pulled the one she’d been using out of her back pocket and handed it to him. “I have a drill, but it’s not charged yet. Tough without electricity.”
“That’s true. This’ll do fine.” He popped the deadbolt out of the back door and rekeyed it, the whole thing accomplished in about four minutes.
“Nice. Are you looking for work as a handyman?”
He looked up, the smile fading a bit. “No, I’m afraid my skills with a lock come from my checkered past. After Dad caught me stealing tools from his garage, he made me change the locks on every person’s house that I ever burgled. Even though, for the most part, I only went in unlocked doors.”
“I didn’t know you had a felonious past.” Claire picked up the tools and followed him to the side door.
“Mercifully, it was short-lived and mainly driven by hunger. Frank and Bertie took me in. They started feeding me and, somehow along the way, managed to give me a sense of right and wrong.”
“Frank is your dad? Bertie’s husband?”
“Yes, he passed away not that long ago. It was sudden.” He gathered up the stuff and walked through the house to the front door and began the same process.
“And after he died, you came home?” She took the bolt and held it as he rekeyed the back door lock.
He screwed the brass plate into place on the edge of the door. “No, it wasn’t quite that simple. Let’s go do the ones in the ballroom, and then you should be good to go.”
“So you got shot...” She was being curious, nosy really, but for whatever reason, he didn’t mind.
“I got shot. I knew I would be off the team for a good six months at least and figured Mom could use the company.” He worked the screws into place.
“Did you ever think about applying for the job of chief after your dad died and staying on permanently?”
He looked up at her, surprised. “No, that’s funny. Pretty sure most of the town is still convinced that I’m a bad influence because I was a delinquent as a child.”
“You were a child.” Her voice rose, full of indignation on his behalf.
“Yes. Well.” He sat back on his heels. “This thing with Amelia showing up out of the blue... I would never regret knowing her, but it definitely has reinforced people’s ideas about my character.”
“From what I hear, everyone thinks you’re doing a great job with her. My source is Lanna at the Hilltop, but I’m pretty sure she knows everything about everyone in town.”
He chuckled, picked up his tools and tested the lock. “She does. Okay, all done. Later we’ll come back to these French doors and add a more defensive lock, but these’ll do for now.”
She started toward the door at the same time he stood and slammed right into him. His arms closed around her. His heart ka-blamming in his chest, he looked into her eyes. Mistake.
His breath caught. Her eyes were wide and innocent and pure blue like the sky. And he wanted more. More closeness. More connection. More Claire.
She stepped carefully back, forcing a laugh. “Wow. I’m off my game today.”
Joe took the thoughts of her that had invaded his mind and mentally shoved them away. Snagging the sunglasses he always wore out of his shirt pocket, he slid them on as they walked into the kitchen. He laughed and, even to him, it sounded forced. “You have game?”
She responded with a delighted laugh and he nudged her shoulder and carefully changed the subject. “Just kidding. So now that you have the cabinet doors off, what’s next?”
“I’m going with mostly open cabinets on the top, closed on the bottom. I’d love marble countertops in this kitchen, but that’s not in the budget, so I’m going to put stainless steel on the island that’s not built yet and concrete on the rest.” She looked around, already seeing the finished product in her mind. “I want a huge island with a half dozen chairs—those metal ones painted all different colors—so the kids can sit there and do their homework or help with cooking. And a comfy couch and some chairs down there at the end by the fire.”
“That sounds great.” And it did. He could picture it in his mind. She was creating a home.
“I got a recommendation for a painter from the hardware store. He and his wife are coming to get started on the kitchen tomorrow, so I need to finish the demo today. You?”
A car pulled into the driveway. Through the hazy window, Joe saw Amelia bound out before his mom even got the car stopped good. “Joe?”
He grinned. “Headed to the cabin. I got some mousetraps at the store when I got your new locks. Maybe shouldn’t mention that to Amelia, though. I’m afraid we’d end up with them as pets.” He swung open the back door and stepped into the sunshine. “Over here, Amelia. See ya later, Claire.”
Claire watched as he walked around the pond to the cabin she’d “rented” to him, his daughter bouncing happily beside him, and reminded herself. He was her tenant. A cop who had his own set of problems to deal with and she definitely didn’t need more problems.
He wasn’t even that attractive.
Yeah, whatever. Keep telling yourself that, honey. She eyed the plate of brownies that Mrs. Evelyn had brought. She wanted one, but she’d already had one and brownies were a treat, not a staple.
And that was how she needed to think of Joe. A sweet treat. Chocolate-covered? Definitely. But not the kind of thing she needed to make a part of her everyday diet.
A buzzing sound split the quiet and the lights flickered on. Her own whoop was nearly drowned out by the cheer from the guys working on her lines.
Things were looking up. She laughed and gave a thumbs-up to the guys working outside. She opened the door and hollered to them, “Make sure to stop by the kitchen and get some brownies and cookies before you go.”
Another car turned into her lane and pulled to a stop behind Joe’s truck. She sighed. At this rate she was never going to get the kitchen demo’d for the painters tomorrow and she couldn’t afford to pay them to do the prep for her.
She walked out to meet her visitor, surprised