One Look: A grumpy, single dad small town romance(8)

Idiot.

“Hey, where’d Annette go?” Lee set Penny down, breathless.

My head swooped toward the door. “Inside, I think.”

Lee only shrugged. I guess he didn’t see or didn’t care that a good woman was right under his nose.

I looked around the back porch while Penny sat in a chair and sipped a drink at the patio table. “Jesus, this place is in rough shape.”

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty bad,” Lee agreed.

“Pretty bad? There’s a box holding up that table. It’s not okay.” I pointed to the table leg, which was, in fact, a rickety stack of wooden boxes. “We need to call Katie.”

A muscle ticced in Lee’s jaw, and his fists clenched. He saw it too. Tootie was trying to make do, but the old house was rapidly crumbling around her. That stubborn woman would never listen to reason. But our sister, Kate, had a soothing way about her. She could scheme her way into convincing Tootie that calling a repairman was her idea, and maybe the worst of it could be fixed in a few weeks.

Worst-case scenario, if she didn’t want to fix it up, I could just have it knocked down and build her something new. A fresh start.

“You heading out?” Lee didn’t miss how my eyes flicked toward the exit more than once. The sad resignation in his voice made my gut feel heavy.

When I saw the crowd inside through the patio door, I tried to think of a good excuse to get us out of there. Work. Bedtimes. Anything.

My eyes moved to Penny, who had overheard Lee’s question, and the sad resignation gnawed at me.

“I think one night might be okay, don’t you think, Pickle?”

Penny’s eyes shot to mine, and a huge smile spread over her sweet face. “Really, Daddy? Can we?”

She leaped from her chair and flung herself into my arms.

Lee laughed and clamped a hand down on my shoulder. “I’ll let Tootie know you’re staying.”

As he climbed the steps to the patio door, Penny continued to hug my middle. “Thanks, Dad. Thank you. Thank you.”

I rubbed a circle on her back. “One night.” I was telling both her and Lee.

Lee laughed and shot a salute over his shoulder before he disappeared into the house.





4





LARK





You know, a girl could fall in love with Outtatowner, Michigan. I sat at a high-top seat along the huge picture window of the local bakery, the Sugar Bowl. My hot latte was steamed to perfection, and the ribbon design in the foam was almost too cute to drink.

Almost.

Happy faces moved in pairs down the sidewalks as I overlooked the quaint strip of downtown. Just as the main road entered the downtown area, there was a sign that read, Outtatowner, Michigan—where strangers become friends.

Tourists and townies alike were waving and smiling as the sun filtered through the trees that lined the middle of the main road, separating the two sides of town.

The chatter in the bakery was a soft din of noise, accompanied by the gentle clatter of coffee mugs on the wood-topped tables. I immediately recognized my server, Sylvie, as the sole King woman from the funeral services. She came more than once to check on me, and her welcoming smile convinced me to order another slice of lemon loaf and a second latte.

“It’s pretty charming, isn’t it?” The woman sitting a few chairs down from me looked up from her laptop and smiled. She had hair the color of burnt umber and deep green eyes, and she swiveled in her seat to face me. The woman leaned her elbows back on the long high-top behind her and looked into the little bakery.

I smiled at her and followed her gaze. People were milling in and out of the busy bakery. It smelled of cinnamon and sugar and warm, toasty coffee. A small group of old men gathered with newspapers in their laps, which they ignored, and chatted with each other. The line to the register was nearly out the door.

“It is,” I agreed.

The woman leaned forward and offered her hand. “I’m Cass. In for the weekend?”

“Lark. I was, for work.” I lifted the small folded newspaper in my lap. “It’s cute here, so I’m just killing time now. You?”

Cass gestured toward her laptop. “I’m a reporter. For that very paper, actually.”

“So you’re a townie?”

Her smile widened. “Oh, okay. You already know the insider lingo in Outtatowner. So you’ve picked up a few things since Bowlegs’s services.”

I didn’t recall seeing this woman at the services. When I just stared at her, she continued. “Small town. Not much gets past us. Although you, my dear, have become a bit of a mystery.”

My back straightened, unsure of which angle to play to keep my employment a secret.

Cass lifted a hand. “A girl’s gotta have her secrets. I’m not going to pry. But to answer your question, I’m new to the townie life. Born and raised in Chicago. But . . .” Her eyes trailed behind the counter toward the kitchen, where a gigantic man entered with a tray of fresh pastries. Warm affection spread over her face, and her smile widened. “I fell for that guy, and the rest is history.”

As if he could sense her, the burly baker looked out over the crowd and immediately locked eyes with her. His lips lifted in a smile, and I nearly swooned off my damn seat. His love for her was so painfully obvious I had to look away.