Building The Perfect Daddy

“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 (#ulink_16c8d8b3-5c58-5a20-8b85-4df293b9d295)

Ryder 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.