Darcy and the Single Dad

She brushed by him on her way through the kitchen and moments later, he heard a door slam somewhere from the back of the house. Nick exhaled a humiliated sigh of regret. Yes, he was definitely done here.

Nick stood in the middle of Darcy’s kitchen feeling like he’d dodged a bullet, but guilty for winding up unscathed all the same. He was positive—almost positive—he hadn’t imagined the heat and invitation in Darcy’s gaze. She’d wanted him to kiss her, hadn’t she? Hell, he’d been out of the game so long, he wasn’t sure he still could read the signs. And damned if he didn’t know if maybe all he saw was his own desire reflected in her eyes. But no matter what he saw or thought he saw, that didn’t give him the right to hurt her with his clumsy rejection.

Yet what else could he have said? That she was a beautiful, sexy woman and he’d sleep with her in a heartbeat if he wasn’t already looking for an entirely different kind of woman for his wife? A different kind of mother for Maddie? Somehow he didn’t think that would have scored any points in her book either.

He thought briefly about apologizing, in a note left behind for her to find—because no way was he searching her out in her bedroom where he assumed she’d taken refuge—only to decide against it.

It was probably better to leave things as they were. If he’d ticked her off as much as he thought he had, then he wouldn’t have to worry about ending up on her radar again—except maybe for her to shoot some dirty looks in his direction on any rare occasion when their paths might cross.

He checked on the mama dog and her puppies one more time before he packed up his bag and left out the back door, the same way he’d come in. The slash of wind and rain pelting him the moment he stepped outside the warmth and comfort of Darcy’s house felt like punishment, but the sudden chill was just what he needed. He didn’t bother trying to outrun the storm on his way to his truck or duck for cover beneath the arms of the large tree in her front yard. Putting his head down, he methodically trudged along the gravel driveway.

A summer storm might not be what the term “cold shower” usually meant, but it would do.

The baseball game was likely over, but he couldn’t have used a beer more. After fishing his keys from his front pocket, Nick turned the ignition and—nothing. Not a click. Not a flicker of light from the dash. Nothing.

Rain pounded on the roof of his SUV in a constant, unrelenting pattern as he reached for his phone. Cell coverage was always spotty at best thanks to the surrounding mountains. Add in the storm, and Nick shouldn’t have been surprised when he got no reception. Dropping his wet head back on the padded headrest, he seriously debated sitting out the storm and the night in his truck. But what if Maddie needed him? His cell phone was as useless as his dead battery, and he needed to be at home in case she called.

It didn’t happen so often anymore, but there’d been a time when Maddie brought back more than souvenirs and gifts from her trips to see her mother. Her first few nights back home, she used to wake up crying, her nightmares filled with terrors of being lost in the big city, trapped in falling elevators or stuck on escalators that carried her far, far away.

As much as he’d hated to see his daughter frightened, a small—very small—part of him had taken comfort in her needing her dad and the security and familiarity of small-town Clearville.

He didn’t want to be out of contact from Maddie, not even for one night. Not even if it meant facing Darcy Dawson. He was soaked to the skin by the time he reached the front porch and knocked on the door.

“My battery’s dead,” he announced before she had the chance to launch into him for his nerve at showing his face on her doorstep. “I’ve got cables if I could just use your car for a—” He nearly swallowed his tongue to keep from using the word jump.

“Sorry,” she said, arms crossed over her chest, “but you can’t.”

Nick snapped his jaw shut. Okay, so he’d known she might slam the door in his face. Half expected it, but he also thought once she heard what he needed, she’d oblige—just to get him and his vehicle off her property if for no other reason. “Look, I was a jerk.”

“You were.”

“A total jerk.”

“Right.”

His frustration mounting when Darcy refused to bend an inch, he snapped, “I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Really?” Her elegant eyebrows shot upward. “Because—again where I come from—apologies usually start with the words ‘I’m sorry’ and end with ‘Can you ever forgive me?’”

Clenching his jaw, Nick ground out the words from between gritted teeth. “I’m sorry, Darcy. Can you ever forgive me?”

He sounded about as sorry as when he was a kid and his father insisted any confrontations with his brothers ended in a handshake, but it was the best he could do. And he really didn’t expect it to work.

Still Darcy did lower her arms and her posture loosened ever-so-slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

“So does that mean I can use your car?”

“No.” She held up a hand before his head actually exploded. “Because my car isn’t here. My car hasn’t been here for days, ever since I left it at the mechanic’s in town. So good luck getting a new battery.”

Nick swore beneath his breath, but put the problem with his battery on the back burner for a second to address what Darcy had said about the garage in town. First, there was only one car shop in town. And second, it was owned by his youngest brother. Nick might have gotten on Sam’s case over the years about his desire to live his life like Peter Pan, but his Lost Boy brother was a pure genius when it came to anything mechanical.

“Your car’s been in the shop for days? Was there a part that needed to be ordered?” He couldn’t imagine a problem Sam wouldn’t be able to fix blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.

“The mechanic told me what was wrong and what it would cost to fix it but—” Darcy shrugged as if that was the last she’d heard.

None of which sounded like Sam. His brother always followed through with a client if a job was going to take longer than anticipated. Most of the time, he beat any time frame he gave, especially since he’d recently hired on some help.

“But I shouldn’t really complain. The mechanic has been sweet enough to pick me up when I’ve needed to go into town.”

“He’s been giving you rides?”

That sounded more like Sam. With his teasing smile and lighthearted charm, his youngest brother had always had a way with women. All women. He never seemed to single out one in particular, and for him to put his reputation as a mechanic on the line for the pleasure of driving Miss Darcy—

Jealousy sizzled through Nick, eating away at logic and reason like acid.

“You’re welcome to come in and use my phone. And by ‘use my phone,’ I mean use my phone. That’s not any kind of big-city sexual innuendo.”

The slap of humiliation heated his cheeks, but the only thing worse was knowing he deserved every moment Darcy spent raking him over the coals. “I’d appreciate it.”

The words were too stiff, too formal, but he didn’t know how else to pry his foot from his mouth other than to watch his every word. The same way he had back when his Nana Pirelli was still alive and he wasn’t too big or too old for her to slap upside the head. But despite Darcy’s insistence that her offer had nothing to do with sex, his mind went there anyway as he followed the seductive sway of her hips as she led the way into the house.

It was his first glimpse at the front of the house. Like the laundry area, the living room showed signs that Darcy had yet to unpack. The built-in bookcases flanking either side of the brick-faced fireplace were conspicuously empty. So, too, was the wall above the hearth, a large expanse crying out for a family portrait. Instead, six splotches of paint marred the space as if she was having a hard time deciding on a single color.

He had the feeling the furniture, mismatched floral couches huddled around an old-fashioned steamer trunk, had come with the house. He wondered why Darcy would even bother redecorating. The paint would likely have yet to dry by the time she grew tired of small-town living and headed back to the city.

She handed him a cordless phone and disappeared through the doorway into the kitchen. Nick wasn’t sure if she was trying to give him privacy or she’d simply rather not be in the same room with him. Sighing, he dialed his brother’s number. His brother Drew’s number. Sam would have been the logical choice, but logic wasn’t running real high at the moment. His call went through to voice mail, though, giving Nick little choice but to call Sam who also asked him to leave a message and told him he’d call back lat er.

Swearing beneath his breath, Nick disconnected the call. After his brothers, his soon to be brother-in-law would be Nick’s next choice, but Jake had taken Sophia to L.A. to introduce her to his mother and stepfather. His parents would have gone to bed hours ago, and he’d hate to get them out of bed at this time of night.

“You could always call a cab.”

The helpful suggestion came from the kitchen, letting Nick know Darcy had picked up on his frustration even though he hadn’t said a word. “Clearville doesn’t have a cab company.”

“That was a joke, Doc.” Framed by the doorway, Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. Backlit by the light from the kitchen, her red hair shimmered with an ethereal, almost halo effect. But the gleam in her green eyes was anything but angelic as she added, “You probably won’t find this funny, either, but you’re welcome to spend the night.”

Spend the night with Darcy Dawson.

Proving he was at least smart enough not to make the same mistake twice, Nick didn’t assume she was offering him anything more than a place to crash. But even the thought of sleeping under the same roof, with Darcy only a room away, seemed far too dangerous. It had been a long time, way too long, since Nick had spent the night with a beautiful, desirable woman. If he had any other choice—

Looking down at the phone still in his hand, he said, “My daughter’s spending the night at a friend’s. I need to let her know how to reach me.”

At his words, Darcy seemed to unbend a little, far more so than she’d done at his admittedly lame apology. “Of course,” she said as she backed out of the doorway, leaving him to make the call in private.

Dialing the Martins’ number from memory, he immediately apologized when MaryAnne answered. “Hey, MaryAnne, it’s Nick.”

“Oh, Nick. Hi.” The woman sounded slightly surprised.

“Sorry to call so late. I just wanted to let you know that my cell phone’s reception is down. I don’t like being out of touch in case Maddie needs me, so I wanted to give you a landline number. I’m … taking care of an emergency call.”