The Single Dad Next Door

Paper stacked a foot tall covered the floor except for a small walkway that led to the desk. And what was the point of a desk if he couldn’t even see the surface of it? Kellen entered the room and turned in a slow circle. If this signaled how Maggie kept—or didn’t keep—records, the inn was in worse shape than he’d thought.

He laced his fingers together around the back of his neck.

He’d manage. Didn’t he always? Casa Bonita had been a wreck, too, when his buddy hired Kellen to manage the restaurant. He knew nothing about the restaurant business when he started that job, and now Casa Bonita had one of the best revenue streams in the greater LA area.

Kellen would figure out the bed-and-breakfast industry, too.

Maggie peeked into the room. “I got the girls settled down in my living room with fresh brownies and a Disney movie. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine. Thanks for taking care of them this morning. It sounded like they were having a lot of fun.”

“Anytime. Seriously. They’re a blast to have around.”

“On that note.” Kellen took two steps toward her, which in the small room brought them within a stride of each other. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life last night.”

Maggie toed the floor. “You wouldn’t have been stung if I had gone and talked to you like you asked.”

“Who knows? The past isn’t worth worrying about or reliving. I say, keep moving forward without thinking about the could haves or should haves. You know?”

“Some of the past is worth reliving.”

And that was really the crux that divided Kellen and Maggie. She wanted to stay connected to the past. So much that, for what he’d seen of the inn so far, she filled every nook and cranny with half-broken antique junk. Whereas Kellen wanted to leave the past as it was. Reliving his past meant seeing every mistake he’d made over and over again. No, thanks. He’d rather focus on the future. On who he could become instead of the man he once was.

Keep moving forward.

“Yes.” He pressed his palms together and touched the tips of his fingers to his chin. “Take, for example, when you decided to start piling up all these documents—why don’t we relive that moment right now?”

“Are you going to get rid of me?” Her voice dropped so low he had to lean forward to hear her.

“No.” He answered honestly but decided to leave out the fact that even if he wanted to he couldn’t fire her. “But I am about to change every single aspect of this inn. I hope you’re ready for that.”

The fire blazing in her eyes said she’d never be ready.

Too bad.

Chapter Four (#ulink_9961414a-c4fa-5635-80c8-19dad1ce476c)

Maggie rooted through her dresser for a pair of jeans that weren’t completely worn out or stained from one too many cooking accidents. But finding something nice to wear had suddenly become the most difficult task in the world. How long had it been since she bought new clothes?

She ran her fingers down the sleeve of a sweater hanging in her closet. The hole in the elbow had been there when the garment belonged to her mother. Bunching the fabric, she rubbed it on her cheek. Soft. Comforting. Sensible. What clothes should be. What her entire wardrobe consisted of. Her clothes suited her, or at least had always seemed to.

Until now.

Today everything screamed rumpled, overlooked and dull. Had she really been walking around looking like that for the past ten or more years? How depressing. What must the people in town think? Probably the truth. There goes Maggie, all alone. So sad.

Not that it mattered. Clothes and looks shouldn’t—didn’t—matter. Right?

She let out a huff of hot air. Surely her friends Paige or Shelby could have told her. Someone who cared should have staged an intervention. But perhaps no one cared—not really. Not enough. Maggie always found herself in the position of rescuing, comforting and encouraging. Very rarely did her friendships go the other way around. She’d never thought about that until now.

Maggie fisted her hands.

The floorboard on the top stair of the grand staircase in the lobby creaked. Even from her bedroom in the private portion of the inn, she could hear it. It creaked again. And again. Kellen must be rocking back and forth on the step—trying to figure out how much replacing and refinishing the wood was going to cost him.

Just like every day in the past week, he’d been holed up in the inn’s office already when she got up to make breakfast for the guests. Then today after the last elderly couple checked out and the inn was empty, he’d set off with a ruler, a pad of paper and his phone. Said he had to assess the place. Whatever that meant.

After yanking a pair of dark-wash jeans from the bottom of the stack, she shook them out—they were so stiff from rarely being put on.

Sarah, her younger sister, had purchased the dressier jeans as a present for Maggie’s birthday almost three years ago. At the time, Maggie had told her sister that she was going to return them, but she hadn’t been able to do so after losing Sarah soon after that.

Maggie slipped them on and found a lightweight shirt without too many wrinkles to go on top—it was a shirt she normally saved for greeting new guests at check-in. But Maggie needed to look respectable—if only to give her the confidence boost she needed to ask Kellen for money. Anything to help her case.

On her way out the door she peeked in her mirror, adjusting the clip in her hair after she smoothed down wayward strands. With a deep breath, she stepped into the hallway. As she walked, she traced her fingers along the wall. The feel of the slight embossing of the wallpaper breathed strength into her veins. This was her home. She’d been born here. Took her first steps as a child in the grand entrance. Used to race her sister down the stairs by sliding on the banister. The mansion that made the West Oaks Inn had been in her family’s possession since the founding of Goose Harbor, and while it had been changed when it was first converted into an inn, most of the original character had been saved.

Well—not possession. Maggie had lost the title of owner five years ago. When she’d run out of funds. When her mother passed away, she’d left everything to both Maggie and Sarah, but after Sarah married Caleb she’d chosen to hand over everything to Maggie. Sarah said she and Caleb had enough to manage with starting a nonprofit; they couldn’t afford to help pay for the mansion’s expenses, as well. That left Maggie to pay all the bills, but her job as a cook at a local diner hadn’t brought in enough income. Expenses on the mansion ate into the savings like ants in a picnic basket. And the savings hadn’t amounted to the great West fortune that they were known for. Not after using it to pay for so many medical expenses for her grandmother and mother toward the end. Experimental treatments weren’t covered by insurance.

Thankfully Ida had offered to purchase the house and let the rest of town believe that Maggie still owned it. Converting the old home into a bed-and-breakfast had been Ida’s idea, as well. Think, Magpie. Just think. A ready income right from the mansion. Ida and her husband had possessed the ability to see possibilities and hope when no one else did. Whether it be in relation to business, government or matters of the heart.

Prior experience told Maggie that the ache in her chest would last for the rest of her life. Ida hadn’t been a blood relation, but she had been as close as family. And now she was gone. Just like everyone else important to her. At least now there was no one left to lose.