The Single Dad's Redemption

Movement at the top of the building caught his eye and he lifted his gaze to see Keeley standing on the flat-topped roof with a dumbfounded expression, a hammer in one hand and her other hand propped on her slim hip.

His heart took an extra beat.

“Dad,” she shouted, clearly exasperated. “Come back here!”

The car continued down the street at a turtle’s pace.

“Dad!”

The sidewalks were deserted; no other cars were coming down Main. Keeley’s attention swiveled to Connor. “Hey,” she called down to him. “Can you help me?”

Connor walked across the street to the empty lot and studied the splintered ladder. “I think this one is toast. Got another one somewhere?”

She mumbled something he didn’t make out and he couldn’t help but grin up at her. He couldn’t see what she’d been working on, but she was the cutest handyman he’d ever seen, bar none.

“I’ll take that as a no. Want me to call 9-1-1? The fire department or the police?”

“Oh, no. Please no,” she said fervently. “I’d never hear the end of it. Neither would my dad, and he would not handle it well, believe me.”

“Was that ladder the only way up there? Isn’t there an inside stairwell?”

“There is, but only to the second floor. And right now, the trick is getting from here to there. The old iron fire-escape ladder is too weak to use.”

“Isn’t that a fire-code violation?”

“Of course it is. Just last week I had a contractor look at leaks in the roof and give me an estimate on replacing the fire escape.”

The lowering sun backlit her cloud of honey-blond hair, making it gleam with sparkling highlights, though her face was cast in shadow. He suspected she was frowning at him, maybe debating her next move. “So how can I help?”

“Could you go into the store and up the stairs by the storeroom in back? The door’s locked, but there’s a key hanging from a leather thong behind a picture of my mom, just to the left.”

“Now that sounds really secure,” he muttered.

She laughed. “I heard that. But it certainly shows me you’ve never lived in a small town like Aspen Creek. After you come upstairs, go through my apartment to the kitchen in back. If you could just unlock the French doors, then I can jump down onto the second-floor balcony and get back inside without anyone else—like the whole fire department—learning about my dad’s little mistake. Okay?”

He dutifully wound his way through the store, past the glittering chandeliers and stained-glass lamps, old rockers and ornately carved tables glowing in the warm light with the patina of well-loved old age.

With every step he kept an eye out for the fragile doodads parked on every flat surface and hoped he could make it past without knocking anything to the floor.

He expected more of the same—fuss and frills and probably mind-numbing pink ruffles everywhere in Keeley’s personal space. Instead the bright and airy upstairs apartment was like the woman herself—welcoming and classy with its cream walls, white wooden blinds and an eclectic mix of antique and modern furnishings that invited rather than overwhelmed.

But while the apartment felt welcoming, his first step out onto the tipsy balcony in back made him shudder.

At the far edge of the tiny platform he could see the top bar of a wrought-iron fire escape dangling toward the ground, but the wood-plank flooring of the balcony showed ample evidence of rot. Reaching that ladder to escape a fire seemed more risky than just going for a two-story leap off the edge.

The rusted wrought-iron fire-escape ladder heading up to the roof looked even worse.

“None of this is safe,” he called out to her. “I think I’m going to call 9-1-1 after all.”

She peered over the roof edge above him. “No, don’t—please. I’m going to just dangle over the edge and drop lightly. It’ll be fine.”

Maybe until her feet hit the fragile planks and went right through.

“If it’s so fine, why didn’t you set up a ten-foot ladder on the balcony to get up there in the first place?”

“The contractor said the balcony was still serviceable, but I agree with you. It’s one of the next projects on my list.”

Connor eyed the spindly railing and weakened floorboards. “If he thought this was okay, then I’d say he isn’t the guy you want to hire. You need someone with more common sense.”

“Look—I can handle this on my own, now that you’ve unlocked the door. I just need you to step back inside so I don’t land on you. I’ll be careful.”

Connor stepped into the doorway, with one foot still on the balcony.

A moment later she slowly backed over the edge of the roof, her feet dangling a few feet above the floorboards. He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her into the kitchen before she could drop.

Dressed as she was in a heavy gray sweatshirt and faded jeans, she felt surprisingly delicate and light in his arms, and the soft scent of some sort of flowery perfume wafted into the room.

When was the last time he’d inhaled such a wonderful scent? He couldn’t remember.

“Ooof!” she exclaimed as he quickly released her and stepped back. “Thanks.”

It had been at least six years since he’d held a woman in his arms, and he felt an unaccustomed warmth flowing through him that settled in his chest and robbed him of breath. “Uh...no problem.”

“I really do owe you,” she murmured, averting her gaze as she dusted her hands against her jeans. A rosy blush brightened her cheeks. “You have no idea how much I wanted to avoid having Todd show up—he’s a deputy in town—or the fire-department guys. You can be sure it would’ve been front-page news in the local paper, complete with photographs. Like I said, I would never live it down. And my dad...”

She closed her eyes briefly, clearly cringing at the thought.

“He’s...” Connor hesitated. “Quite a driver.”

Her mouth twitched, and then she laughed softly. “That has to be the understatement of the year. But I promise you, I’ll be taking his keys away. I won’t let him get behind the wheel again and risk someone’s life.”

The small kitchen, with its white cupboards and yellow-checkered curtains, had seemed as bright and airy as the rest of the apartment, but now he felt the walls closing in on him.

Maybe it was the claustrophobia he’d been fighting since walking out of the prison doors.

Maybe it was his increasing awareness of her sparkling green eyes and her creamy skin, or his sudden curiosity about what it might be like to hold her in his arms just one more time. But that was a bad idea.

His ex-wife had provided a painful lesson on the risks of judging women based on beauty, and there was no room in his life for any ties at any rate. The moment his truck was fixed, he needed to be back on the road.

He cleared his throat. “I guess I’d better be going.”

He turned for the door to go downstairs, but she touched his arm and he froze at the warmth of her hand.

“Please—wait. Did you find a job in town?”

He knew what she was going to ask, even before she spoke. He shook his head.

“Have you given any more thought to working here?”