Daddy By Surprise

Della smiled. “Use of it comes with each rental. I keep the gate locked so no children will wander in, but give all my tenants a key.”

Just what he needed, Devin thought. His job consisted of putting the seat of his pants on the seat of the chair for hour after hour. Without regular exercise, not only would his muscles cramp up, but he’d start getting wide in the beam. “That’s great,” he told Mrs. Bailey.

He’d been staying at a motel since arriving last weekend. Last night, he’d driven around this neighborhood and found it quiet with a minimum of distractions. No basketball hoops or garages or kids playing in the street. There were also several restaurants within a few blocks for nights he didn’t feel like cooking, which were many.

The apartment was only temporary, of course, a year at the most. But for now, it suited his needs perfectly. “I’d like to take the upper.” He took out his wallet and started counting out bills, then handed her a folded sheet of paper. “And here are the references I mentioned.”

In the doorway, Molly felt a frown form. Devin Gray wasn’t someone she’d choose to have live above her. He didn’t look like someone who worked indoors. She’d wager he’d once been a California surfer from his tan and mention of the ocean. Carefree and seductive, she assumed from the looks he’d been throwing her way. Pretty successful at it, too, she imagined from that killer smile. He was too big, too masculine, too self-assured.

If the apartment wasn’t ideally located and priced right, she’d walk away. However, she’d handle it. Mr. Charm would soon learn she wasn’t the least interested. She’d been fending off men like him for over three years. Trisha had once said Molly had turned rejection into an art form. Molly took that as a compliment.

“I’d like to take the lower, Mrs. Bailey,” Molly said, reaching into her canvas bag for her checkbook. “First and last month’s rent all right?”

“That would be fine.” Della strolled to the kitchen, pleased that her vacancies were no more. “Maybe I’ll see more of my daughter with you practically next door, Molly,” she said with a laugh. “She works too hard.”

Molly was aware that, like so many single mothers, Trisha needed every cent she could scrape together to support herself and her eight-year-old son, Danny, even though the two of them lived rent-free in one of Della’s houses several blocks over. The boy’s father sent support checks only when the ponies were running well. Still, Trisha had that great kid, which was more than Molly had wound up with from her disastrous marriage.

But she wasn’t going to dwell on that today. Ripping out the check, she handed it to Mrs. Bailey. “I’ll definitely have Trisha and Danny over as soon as I get settled. I can move some boxes in tonight and the rest tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

Della held out a small ring with two keys on it. “It’s yours, honey.” She turned and took the money from the tall man as well and handed him his keys. “I’ll check out your references and if everything’s okay, I’ll have your lease ready tomorrow. Oh, wait. You said you’d prefer to rent month-to-month, right?”

“Yes. That’s why I’ve paid you for three months in advance, the first two and the last month’s deposit.”

“That’s fine.” They walked out onto the porch overlooking the fenced backyard.

Molly’s gaze took in the grassy area with a clothesline stretched between two poles and a small shed at the back. “I’d like to plant a garden at the far end, if you wouldn’t mind. Maybe some flowers. I’ve lived on the third floor of an apartment building for three years and I’ve really missed having a yard.”

“You’re welcome to garden, if you like,” Della said, heading for the stairs.

“One more thing,” Devin said, aware that his new landlady was anxious to get going. “I forgot to mention that I have a dog, a German shepherd, yard trained. Naturally, I’ll pick up after him, even cut the grass. King’s a good watchdog, as well. Hope that’s okay?”

“I like dogs,” Della said, “as long as they’re well behaved.” She heard a car pull into her driveway next door and her friend’s horn honking. “You two can work things out between you about sharing the yard. Molly, I’ll have your lease ready for you to sign tomorrow. Trash pickup’s Friday and cans are in the back shed. I’ve got to run. See you later.” One hand adjusting her glasses, the other on the railing, Della made her way down the stairs.

Devin turned to Molly Shipman and saw she was frowning. Again. Much as she had been throughout their tour. He wondered what was bothering her.

A dog, Molly thought. A big dog. She liked animals well enough, though she preferred smaller breeds. “German shepherds are large and sort of scary. I have a Brownie troop, eight six-year-old girls. We meet once a week at my home and do projects.” Her sister had talked her into being a leader awhile back and Molly had to admit she enjoyed working with the girls. But she couldn’t afford to be sued by a parent over a dog bite. “I’d hoped to be able to use the yard for some meetings.”

Once a week? Just what he needed, Devin thought. He knew from long experience that kids were noisy, accident prone and could create messes in minutes. There went his nice quiet neighborhood. However the apartment was just right and he was tired of looking. He tried a reassuring tone. “King’s good with kids. He’s friendly, even gentle. But I’ll keep him inside with me on the days you need the yard for your projects.” As for the garden, he didn’t add that King would probably eat the petunias and dig up her vegetables.

What could she say in the face of such a reasonable attitude? Truth be known, it wasn’t the dog that had Molly concerned, but rather his owner. The way those green eyes looked at her, looked into her, as if trying to read her thoughts. She’d just have to avoid him, that’s all. With her work schedule and outside projects, that wouldn’t be so difficult.

“All right, I’ll hold you to that.” Another glance at her watch had her digging out her keys. Hank Thompson, the café’s owner, frowned on his people being late. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then.” She flashed a brief, distracted smile and skipped down the stairs, heading for her car.

Devin leaned back against the porch railing and watched her. Did he really want to live practically on top of such an attractive woman? Molly Shipman, with that head of shiny blond hair, eyes the blue-green of the sea on a cloudless summer day and a body even her plain white blouse and black slacks couldn’t disguise would be an unwelcome distraction.

He needed the place he lived and worked in to be a quiet haven with no diversions or temptations. Molly wasn’t overtly tempting, but he’d always been drawn more to the subtle than the obvious. Her staid costume and offhand manner had him more interested than if she’d been wearing something skintight and acting flirtatious. Or was his interest centered in the fact that he’d been single-minded about his work for so long, to the detriment of his social life?

Straightening, Devin breathed deeply and could still smell Molly’s scent, a light fragrance that suited her perfectly. In those big blue eyes, he’d spotted a keen intelligence, a definite wariness and something else. Something shadowy where a vague sadness lingered. It would be challenging to see if he could discover more.

Perhaps having an attractive woman one deck below wouldn’t be so bad, after all. He could ask her up for dinner, conversation, a little touchy-feely tension reliever. Maybe he could…

Annoyed with his thoughts, Devin ran a hand through his hair and frowned. He was here to work, not play. His deadline was a mere three months from now. He’d best keep that in mind.

He locked the door and left the porch.

Molly arrived at the Pan Handle Café and noticed from the big clock above the counter that she had five minutes to spare. She caught Trisha’s eye and made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, indicating she’d gotten the rental. Trisha winked her acknowledgement before lowering the heavy tray and turning to serve her customers.

Molly waved at Hank at the cash register, greeted the short-order cook by name and walked on past the ladies’ room to the back locker area. The air-conditioning was set on high, but with all the heat from the kitchen, it was fairly warm inside most of the time. Quickly, she stashed her bag and fixed herself a tall iced tea with lemon. It was too hot for coffee some mornings. She sipped it slowly, glad that the breakfast rush hour was tapering off.

She was aware that many people looked down on waitressing, but as far as Molly was concerned, it was honest work that she enjoyed and was good at, and the tips weren’t bad. The Pan Handle was located in a small strip mall that bordered an enclave of older, well-kept homes peopled mostly by young families and year-round retirees who kept the ten booths along the windows, the six counter stools and the eight tables filled almost constantly. Word-of-mouth also brought tourists to the café with its down-home cooking and reasonable prices. And then there were the truckers who’d first discovered Hank’s place. Molly enjoyed the diverse clientele.

Of course, that didn’t mean she intended to spend the rest of her life waitressing. The people she worked with were aware that she was taking night classes, but only Hank knew that she’d attended the University of Arizona on a full scholarship and quit in her senior year before getting her degree. Foolishly starry-eyed, she’d rushed headlong into marriage. Four years later, divorced and on her own with no job skills to speak of despite years of schooling, she’d faced a frightening reality check. Although she’d had a variety of part-time jobs for spending money during her college days, she was poorly qualified for a steady full-time position.

After many long days of job hunting and being turned down mostly for a lack of experience, she’d stopped in at the Pan Handle for a cold drink and spotted the Help Wanted sign. Her smile shaky, she’d told Hank that she’d never waitressed, but she was a quick study and she badly needed a job. He’d hired her on the spot, earning a permanent place on her grateful list.

Of course, Molly worked hard and earned every cent she made. In three years, she was only two courses shy of enough accounting credits to take the state CPA exam. Dreams of her own company, her own business, kept her going through all the hours on her feet serving others and the late evenings she did typing, charging by the page. When that day came, she’d set up her office, hire a staff, eventually get a reliable car and maybe even a small house of her own.

Molly Shipman had vowed she’d never be beholden to anyone for anything ever again.

“So, you moving in soon?” Trisha asked, joining her after turning in two orders.

“I’ve got the weekend off.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “Thanks for telling me about your mom’s vacancy. It’s perfect. Another hour and it would’ve been snatched up.” As she’d driven away from the duplex, a young couple had stopped their car, eyeing the sign Mrs. Bailey hadn’t bothered to remove and taking down the phone number. “I owe you.”

“I’ll settle for a cold drink. It’s been a madhouse in here since six.” Trisha bent to rub her sore calves.

Molly poured the drink, adding two sugars for energy the way Trisha preferred her tea. “Tell Danny the living room has a cable TV hookup for when he stays over.” A tall, slim brunette, Trisha was outgoing and dated a lot, often leaving her son with Molly evenings when her mother was unable to keep him. Molly had taught Danny to play chess and now he was beating her regularly.

“Will do. He’ll be thrilled.” Trisha took a long swallow, then left to check on her orders.

Time she got to work. Setting aside her glass, Molly put on a bright smile and walked to the front to greet an older couple who were regulars.

Hank’s gaze slid to Molly Shipman and his face relaxed. Of his three full-time waitresses, it was Molly who pleased him most. He enjoyed just looking at her. He watched now as she delivered an order to an older couple, then went to pour coffee all around for three truckers in a front booth. He saw their eyes wander over her slender frame, frankly admiring, boldly appraising. She laughed at something one of them said, then politely dodged their comments and one wandering hand as she wrote up their order. Little did they realize that no matter what they said or did, Molly wasn’t buying.

Unlike Trisha who flirted outrageously and dated frequently, in three years, Hank had never seen one customer get to first base with Molly. Oh, she was friendly to everyone, some more than others, but there it ended. She always went home alone and her phone number was unlisted. Hank didn’t know the story of her marriage or the reason for her divorce, but he figured she had to have had a rough time. Never once did she speak of those years. Divorced himself, he understood, but at nearly fifty, it wasn’t so surprising that he didn’t want another go around. But Molly was only twenty-eight, too young to want to be alone.

If only he was a little younger, Hank thought uncharacteristically dreamy. Then the scowl returned and he called himself a fool. What would a lovely young woman want with a slightly pudgy guy with thinning hair and a bad hip? He’d better keep such thoughts to himself if he wanted to keep Molly as a friend and an employee.

Molly stepped up to the service counter and raised a questioning brow. “You okay, Hank?” she asked, wondering at his grimace as she handed him her order slip. Hank was usually easygoing.

“Hector’s going to be late,” he complained, blaming his mood on that.

“Oh. If you need me to stay longer…”

That was Molly, always willing to help out, but he couldn’t let her do that. “Nah, we’ll manage. I hear you’re moving.”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

“I’ll get my nephew to help. We’ll go to your place with the truck. Is seven good?”