The Single Dad's Redemption (10 page)

Chapter Thirteen

T
hough he hadn’t wanted to admit it to the nurses or anyone else, Connor had known this morning was going to be a bear. His muscles ached and his head still throbbed, and he hadn’t even been sure where he was during the first foggy moments of awakening after a fitful night of sleep.

Instead of a sleeping bag and thin foam mat on hard ground, this was a comfortable bed, with warm blankets. The rosy blush of dawn slipping through the edges of the curtains softly lit the antique furnishings and stained-glass lamps on the dresser and bedside table.

He closed his eyes, savoring the comforts of a real home for the first time in years. Then he slowly sat up, despite the muscles screaming in protest, and reached for the damp jeans, socks and shirt he’d draped over a chair.

Sometime during the early morning hours Keeley must have washed and dried them, for now they were clean and neatly folded on the dresser. Keeley and he had arrived here after three in morning, so had she got any sleep at all? Surprised and grateful, he pulled on his clothes, shoved his damp wallet in his pocket and stepped into the hallway.

The house was quiet, with no breakfast aromas emanating from the kitchen, so everyone else was probably asleep.

The possibility of making a much-needed cup of coffee drew him down the hall and through an archway into a formal living room he hadn’t seen when he’d been here for supper. It was filled with stiff, uncomfortable-looking, gilt-and-white furnishings, upholstered in the color of fresh cream.

He paused and stared for a moment, imagining what he and his brothers would have done to a room like this during their mud-and-sticky-fingers childhood days. Was this how Keeley had been raised—in a grand place where she couldn’t sit on the furniture or play with childhood abandon? How had she turned out to be so easygoing? So
normal
?

Through the next archway he could see a more familiar area—the family room, where Keeley’s dad watched television. The massive, dark-paneled room was lined with bookshelves and filled with heavy leather furniture. He continued on toward the kitchen, less comfortable about his mission with each step—feeling more like a prowler than a guest.

If he suddenly met up with Paul North, he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t give the poor man a heart attack.

Something rustled at the far end of the family room and he stilled.

“I thought you would sleep later,” Keeley murmured. Setting aside an afghan, she rose from a pillowy, burgundy-leather sofa. “You sure tossed and turned a lot last night. Every time I checked on you, you were restless.”

He laughed. “I guess I must sleep better outside.”

“How are you this morning?”

“Good—just in search of some coffee. Does your dad keep any on hand?”

She led the way into a dazzling white kitchen with stainless-steel appliances, flipped on the lights and headed for the Keurig at the end of the granite counter. “Name your flavor and we probably have it.”

“Anything with caffeine.” While the machine gurgled, he glanced around the kitchen. Just as it had been before, it was beautiful but stark, and lacking any sort of homey details such as the ones he remembered from every other home he’d ever seen. Not so much as a pot holder or a kitchen towel was in view.

“This place is spotless,” he murmured. “I think you could do surgery on the counters.”

“Almost. I try to cook for the two of us when I can, and make enough for leftovers he can reheat. Or he nukes those healthy frozen dinners. But no matter what, Dad wants this place tidy before he goes to bed.” She handed Connor a steaming mug. “This is French vanilla. If you don’t like it, I can make something else.”

He took a sip of the rich, dark brew. “Perfect.”

“I agree with you, though. This kitchen is awfully Spartan, but that’s what Dad likes, so that’s what he has.” She went to the refrigerator and opened the door wide. “What do you want for breakfast? I can make any kind of eggs you want, with bacon or sausage. And there’s whole wheat or sourdough for toast.”

“Don’t go to any work for me. I figure I’d better get out and buy a tent, some clothes and supplies. I can grab some breakfast on the way.”

“About those supplies... I’m guessing that it’s going to be a pretty hefty bill, if you’re replacing everything you lost. Right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have much choice.”

She pulled a loaf of bread from a cupboard and a tub of margarine from the fridge, and put two slices of bread in the toaster.

She turned back to him, her eyes sparkling. “Actually, I have a plan. It will save you a lot of money and it will help me out. A lot. And it will actually give you a chance to earn more money while you’re here. Sound good?”

He gave her a wary look. “Too good.”

“Here’s the deal.” She looked over his shoulder toward the door then lowered her voice.

“My dad refuses to let anyone else help him except for me—and that’s only sometimes. He’s mostly too proud to accept any assistance, and too stubborn to admit it. Sometimes I think he’d rather die than lose his independence.”

“Sounds like my grandpa back in Texas.”

The toast popped up. She buttered the slices and put them on a plate by Connor’s mug, and retrieved a jar of raspberry jam from the fridge for him. “Well... I’ve tried to hire a housekeeper who could also sort of watch over him, but he would have none of that. Same with a visiting county caregiver. I even offered to move in, just so someone would be around at night, but we’re like oil and water and he refused.” Her mouth tilted into a wry smile. “Which was probably the best thing all around.”

“If you’re suggesting I stay here, I think his answer would be the same, don’t you?”

“Maybe not. Your campsite was wiped out and Dad has four empty bedrooms in this house plus three little rental cabins in the back, which are also empty. He’d simply be doing you a favor.”

Connor shook his head. “I couldn’t impose like that.”

“But it wouldn’t be an imposition at all. He has empty rooms, you need a place to stay. A perfect match. And it would be free rent—if you could just look in on him now and then, and maybe help him mow. It would be such peace of mind knowing someone was here in case anything happened.”

“You really think he’d agree? I sort of doubt it. And, anyway, I should be on the road in a few weeks.”

“True, but the great part is that this would ease Dad into the idea of having someone around.” She tapped a forefinger on her lips, thinking. “I’d just have to make sure I approached him the right way.”

“Approached
what
the right way?”

They both turned toward the door at the accusatory sound of Paul’s voice, and Keeley paled. “Um, good morning, Dad.”

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Paul’s eyes narrowed on Connor. Then his icy gaze slid over to Keeley. “You were both here overnight, in my house?”

Keeley visibly stiffened. “For Pete’s sake, Dad. Give me a little credit. A flash flood wiped out the campground last night—including everything Connor owned. He saved a little boy from drowning, but then he ended up in the emergency room himself until three this morning. He had nowhere else to go, and the doctor’s orders were that someone needed to check on him regularly because he has a concussion. So I brought him here. I was on the sofa in the den, and I gave Connor the downstairs guest room.”

Paul’s gaze didn’t thaw. “Then what’s this about approaching me the right way? What is it you’re after—money?”

“No, Dad.” Keeley set her jaw. “He lost
everything
. He doesn’t have a place to stay and you can easily help him out. Anyway, he’ll only be in town a couple weeks more, so it’s not like he can rent an apartment somewhere. With tourist season starting, a hotel or B and B for that long would cost a fortune.”

“Humph.” Paul shuffled over to the coffeemaker and made himself a cup, then turned to face them.

“We surely wouldn’t charge him,” she continued. “But for the short time he’s here—in one of the little cabins and out of your way—he could mow or help with some little jobs around the house. You’re always complaining about the jiggly lock set on the front door.”

Paul glowered at her. “Just a few weeks?”

“Right.”

His gaze raked Connor head to toe. “No alcohol. No parties. No carousing. No loud music.”

Connor reined in the temptation to laugh. “No, sir. No problem at all.”

* * *

The sun was setting as Connor lugged the last storage box out of Cabin 3 and added it to the stack headed for one of the other cabins, then stepped back inside. “Anything else?”

“Done, and after a busy day at the store plus this, I’m ready to call it quits.” Keeley set aside her dust cloth, rested her hands on her hips and studied his bruised and battered face. “I regret even asking if you could help me with all of this. How are those sutures feeling? And your concussion?”

“The Tylenol did help,” he admitted with a rueful laugh. “But I think I’m ready to call it a day, too.”

“At least you’ll have a decent place to stay.” She surveyed the cabin one more time, looking for anything they might have forgotten. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever watched HGTV.”

“What?”

“It’s the only show I watch, other than public television. They show houses being renovated and people shopping for homes. Everyone seems focused on ‘open concept’ layouts and ‘sight lines’ so you can see several rooms at once.” She grinned. “I think this cabin is a great example—except it’s the size of a postage stamp.”

“Whatever this is called, it looks fine to me. I’m just happy to have a roof.”

“And one that’s in good condition. But the floors sure need to be redone.” She ran a hand over the yellow laminate counter in the kitchen, guessing that it dated from the 1970s. “And this would need replacing if the cabins were ever put into regular use.”

“If you make a list, I can work on it during the evenings.”

“That would be nice. Looking at this place sure makes me feel nostalgic. My mom always rented out the cabins by the week throughout tourist season, and I remember hoping that there’d be kids my age, now and then.”

The cabin was basically one room, with a sofa and TV at one end and a tiny kitchen at the other, all done in Northwoods-style pine paneling, with pine flooring and a scattering of handmade rugs. At the far side, there was a single, small bedroom and adjoining bathroom. Now that the cabin had been cleaned, dustcovers removed from the furniture, bed made and towels hung, it looked ready for use.

“This is actually rather charming,” she mused. “In a retro sort of way. Maybe we should start renting the cabins again. Dad couldn’t handle it and I don’t have the time, but I could hire someone in the neighborhood to handle the housekeeping and guests. Dad might enjoy seeing different people come and go. I want to apologize for his behavior this morning, by the way. He had no business assuming the worst about us being here.”

Connor shrugged. “He’s a father. If I had a daughter, I’d probably be a hundred times worse.”

“I also want to apologize about him giving you the third degree this morning. I hardly think you’d be the wild party type.”

He tipped his head in silent acknowledgment. “During my college and early rodeo days, those would have been valid warnings. Now, not so much. But that’s okay. He has a right to protect his property and he should be up-front about it.”

“I hope you feel as forgiving after you’ve been living here for a few days. He isn’t always the most patient man and he might be out here overseeing any project you start.”

“Well, my time is yours, until my truck is done. Just tell me what needs to be done.”

“Better be careful. Before long I’ll have you so busy that you’ll forget about moving on.” She grinned at him, then took a last glance at the results of their hard work and handed him the cabin key. “Now you can move in—except that you have nothing to put away. We need to get you to Walmart for some clothes. There are all sorts of boutiques and fancy-pants stores in town, but I’m afraid that’s the only place in town for guy things like jeans.”

“And everything else I need, really. Some groceries and one of their prepaid smartphones. I’ll need it for the GPS while traveling and the internet until I can get a computer.”

“I can give you your first four days’ pay today. Also an advance, if you need it.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

The warmth and gratitude in his eyes took her aback, so she gave him a breezy smile to lighten the moment as she opened the front door. “No problem at all.”

“No—I really mean it.”

He rested a hand on her shoulder as he spoke and she stilled, unable to take another step as gentle warmth and something deeper than that seemed to travel straight to her heart...though she suspected he affected most women under the age of ninety the same way. What woman could possibly be immune to such a good-looking and charisma-laden cowboy?

His easy Texas drawl and innate Southern manners just added to the lethal appeal that was made all the more entrancing because he didn’t seem to be aware of the impact it caused.

“It seems like a lifetime ago since I was around anyone as thoughtful and caring as you are,” he continued. “And I don’t think anyone around here even realizes how special you are.”

“I, um...” Flustered, she didn’t know what to say. Especially because she sensed he wanted to kiss her, and
that
sent her pulse into overdrive.

She’d had that private fantasy ever since he’d first appeared in her store—so tall and dark and utterly handsome, though now it was the man inside who drew her.

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me...and Josh.” Their gazes locked. “It’s funny. I’ve spent a lot of years being angry at the Almighty, thinking He never cared enough to answer my prayers. But now I realize He has all along. He brought me to you.”

Chapter Fourteen

C
onnor had hoped Keeley was kidding when she talked about the flash flood being first-page news in the
Aspen Herald
.

The paper clutched in Paul’s hand on Thursday evening proved otherwise.

During the tense moments after pulling Kyle through the water to safety and afterward, among the milling crowd of EMTs, deputies and shell-shocked campers, Connor hadn’t been aware of anyone taking photos.

But there they were—front page.

Connor in the water, lifting Kyle up to the waiting arms of a deputy, the boy’s grandfather right behind him with a distraught expression.

Connor cradling the shivering puppy before handing him to someone else.

A photo taken through the back door of the First Response Vehicle, showing an EMT hovering over the child, who lay on the gurney inside with an IV bag hanging above him.

“I guess you did have quite a night on Tuesday,” Paul said with a grudging look of admiration. “Given who you rescued, this will probably make the papers in Madison and the Twin Cities.”

“Kyle? Nice kid.”

“His dad is a state senator, and one of the top picks to run for president the next time around. The family is loaded, so I hear.”

Connor shot a sideways glance at him. “I had no idea.”

“Keeley says the grandfather insisted on paying your medical bills at the ER, and that you were planning on paying him back. Guess you don’t have to worry about that now, eh?”

“It makes no difference.”

Paul’s eyebrows lifted. “They don’t need the money. And do you even have any?”

The old guy was blunt—Connor had to give him that. “It’ll take a while. I need to find a job and get settled, and try to get my son back. But that’s a debt I’ll owe.”

Paul took his measure with a long, thoughtful look. Then he handed over the newspaper. “This is an extra copy. I thought you might want it. And you might want to read the article. For better or worse, they’ve written a fair amount about you and it may or may not be accurate. People can research anyone on Google these days, but is it true? Not always.”

Connor sighed. “Now I don’t think I want to read it, honestly. But thanks.”

Settling on the wrought-iron bench in front of Cabin 3, with his old dog at his feet, Paul laid the paper aside and watched Connor paint the white trim around the front door. “Is it true you came from one of the biggest ranches in north Texas?”

Connor concentrated on finishing another long section of the trim, then dipped his brush in the paint can and continued painting. “One of them, I guess.”

“And that you were in the running at the PRCA Championships in saddle broncs before getting yourself arrested?”

Connor sighed. “The rodeo part is true, but I didn’t ‘get myself arrested.’ I had nothing to do with it. Nothing. That was a series of errors that never should have happened.”

“All that money and success, yet here you are, working for my daughter. Traveling on a shoestring across the country. I don’t get it. Why don’t you hit up your family for the money then hire an investigator and a good lawyer to get your son back? Or go back to rodeo and earn the money?”

“For someone who was so grumpy and silent when we first met, you’re proving to be remarkably talkative,” Connor said dryly.

Paul’s eyes narrowed and Connor wondered if he’d gone too far.

But then the old man tipped his head back and laughed. “True, but you’re the most interesting thing to come along around here in quite a while. And I’m curious.”

“My dad was furious when I went on the rodeo circuit after college. After a few spectacular arguments, he quit talking to me.” Connor eyed the trim, caught an errant drip and continued painting. “During our last conversation, he informed me that my brothers would be taking over the ranch and not to bother about coming home.”

“Shame on him.”

“As for rodeo, I’ve reached the tipping point, because bronc riding is a younger man’s sport. Even if I wanted to, I’ve lost out on too many years to make a comeback and reach the top again.”

“Surely you don’t plan on a career as a store clerk.”

“Right now, I’m just grateful I can make money to pay for my truck repairs. But after this, I’ll be open to any career that will help me raise my son.”

Paul pursed his lips, his gaze fastened on the two apple trees in his backyard that were beginning to bloom. “So what are your skills?”

“Cattle ranching. Breeding and training horses. I have a degree in ranch management, so I could work in a county extension office or be a sales rep for some type of agricultural company, but ranch management would be my choice.”

“Guess there wouldn’t be much of that around here.”

“Nope. Which is why I need to head back to Montana or Texas.” Connor finished the last section of trim on the window, backed up to study his handiwork and laid the brush aside on the upturned lid of the paint can. “The sooner I can get things settled with Joshua and move west, the better it will be.”

* * *

The sooner I can get things settled with Joshua and move west, the better it will be.

Keeley paused as she crossed the backyard toward Connor’s cabin, his words sinking into her flesh like tiny darts of disappointment.

Of course, it wasn’t a surprise. She hadn’t ever expected him to stay in town long term. His goal of leaving Aspen Creek had been crystal clear from day one—and it was the polar opposite of her own.

Yet...this past week she’d truly enjoyed his company and their conversations. Being with him had been like peeling back layers—finding out more about him every day. Good things. Admirable things.

Qualities she hadn’t found in the men she had occasionally dated over the past few years. And when he left town, she suspected it would be a long time before she found another man like him. Maybe never.

Like right now—was Dad actually
laughing
?
Who had ever engaged her dad in conversation like Connor could? Even Todd—a deputy who ought to be a take-charge, brave sort of guy—usually managed only a few words, then backed off in the face of Dad’s irascible temperament.

She heaved a sigh as she halted in front of the cabin. “Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late. I’ve got supper waiting on the counter if you want to come inside.”

Connor dropped his paintbrush in a plastic pail of water and hammered the lid back on the paint can at his feet. “So what do you think? Like the colors?”

She’d asked him to spend the day painting rather than come into the store, figuring he could just take it easy and not overstress his sore ribs. But instead of dabbling at the project, he’d finished the entire cabin.

The dark blue blended into the surrounding pines like a cool, dark shadow, while the crisp white trim and the gingerbread detailing along the eaves were as fresh as starched-white lace. “Beautiful. You’ve done a great job.”

“One down, two cabins to go.”

“You might as well eat supper with us,” Paul muttered as he rose to his feet and headed for the house, snapping his fingers for Bart to follow.

Bart watched him go, then dropped at Connor’s feet.

“I know you bought supplies when we went to Walmart, but you will join us, won’t you? Might as well,” Keeley said with a smile. “I made lasagna and there’s way too much for the two of us.”

Connor surveyed his paint-splattered hands. “I usually run in the evening, but since I’m not quite up to that, I want to at least go for a walk before the sun goes down. And I’ve chili in the Crock-Pot. Maybe another time? But thanks all the same.”

* * *

After walking a couple of miles out of town on a gravel country road, Connor’s sore muscles began to ache and his nagging headache began to pound, so he turned back for the city limits and sauntered down the Main Street sidewalk past Keeley’s store.

It was after six o’clock and everything was now closed, but pennants advertising the Aspen Creek Antique Walk swooped over Main at every street corner. Each of the businesses had placed colorful signs in its front window promising great sales, plus posters advertising family activities and bands playing at the fairgrounds throughout the weekend.

Tours of some of the grand old homes in town and horse-drawn carriage rides up and down Main were offered, as well as golf and tennis tournaments out at the public golf course.

He lingered in front of a florist shop and studied the array of flowering plants and, in a cooler visible from the sidewalk, some colorful floral arrangements. He had no idea what any of them were, but he found himself wondering which one Keeley would like the most.

Not that he had the extra money right now. That trip to the store this morning had eaten up his earnings for the first four days here, and he still needed to pay for his truck repairs.

But she was a woman who deserved flowers. Deserved a pretty home and a good husband who could provide for her well, so she wouldn’t have to work so hard.

He didn’t fit the bill on any score.

That was why he had declined her dinner offer, and why he was going to be more careful about keeping his distance in the future.

With his troubling prison background, a vindictive ex-wife, a son to raise and no clear career options in sight, the best thing he could do for Keeley would be to leave town...no matter how drawn he was to her.

He turned away from the store and walked back to his temporary home, where he found a note on the table tucked under a mason jar filled with yellow, red and white flowers clearly picked from one of the gardens in the backyard.

The irony didn’t escape him.

While he’d been looking through the florist shop window with empty pockets, she’d gone ahead and left him a note and a cheery bouquet that she’d picked herself.

Connor—hope you don’t mind that I stopped in. There’s a plate of lasagna plus some garlic bread and romaine salad in your fridge, and a plate of brownies on the counter. It will all keep if you don’t want it tonight.

Tomorrow is a big day at the store. See you at 10!

Thanks,

Keeley.

The aroma of buttery garlic bread, rich meat sauce, fresh Parmesan and mozzarella wafted from the refrigerator when he opened the door. His pot of chili didn’t even come close to the promise of such sensory pleasure.

When had he ever known someone like her?

His mother had walked out on her family and had rarely kept contact with her grieving kids. His own wife had paid little attention to her wedding vows. But Keeley was so different from the other women in his life—resolved to care for her obstinate father despite his protests, determined to shelter waifs, be they stray cats or troubled teens. She’d even taken in an ex-con like him.

Connor was glad his truck would be done in a few weeks, so he could be on his way.

Because the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave.