Page 19 of Small Town Daddy

My heart skipped a beat. Surprise mingled with delight as I took in his words. It was an unexpected offer, but one that resonated deep within me. "I'd like that very much," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the crackling flames.

We settled into the living room, the space transformed by the warm glow of the fire. I curled up on the plush couch, Mr. Whiskers nestled in my arms. Marcus sat nearby, a worn copy of "The Secret Garden" in his hands.

As he began to read, his rich, soothing voice filled the room. The worries of the day melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and comfort I hadn't known in years. With each turn of the page, I found myself drawn deeper into the story, the outside world fading away.

There was something about the way Marcus read—the gentle cadence of his words, the care he took with each phrase—that made me feel seen. Understood. Cherished.

Marcus closed the book softly as the final words of the story hung in the air. I blinked drowsily, the edges of sleep tugging at my consciousness.

"Time for bed, little one," he murmured, his voice gentle as he stood and extended a hand to help me up.

My fingers curled around his, a perfect fit. The stairs creaked beneath our feet as he guided me to the guest room, his presence solid and reassuring at my side.

"Here we are." He pushed open the door for me. "I'll be just down the hall if you need anything."

Our eyes met, and my breath caught at the tenderness I found in his gaze. "Thank you," I whispered, the words heavy with unspoken emotion.

"Goodnight, Lucy." His smile held a promise of safety, of warmth. Of home.

The door closed with a quiet click, and I crawled beneath the covers, Mr. Whiskers tucked securely under my chin. As I lay there in the darkness, listening to the muffled sounds of Marcus moving about the house, a profound sense of peace washed over me.

This felt different, in the best possible way. The connection between us, the unspoken understanding . . . it was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. For the first time, I dared to hope that I'd found the missing piece I'd been searching for.

My heart swelled with a longing so deep it ached. Could this be the start of something real? Something lasting?

As I drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of the handmade quilts and the lingering scent of Marcus's cologne, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Chapter 6

Marcus

Something pulled me outof a wonderful dream of auburn hair and shy smiles. I lay there a moment, thoughts drifting to Lucy asleep down the hall, the way her eyes had sparkled over dinner as we talked late into the night. Something had sparked between us, a subtle connection that made my heart stir in a way it hadn't in ages. But I had to be careful. The last thing Lucy needed right now was complications, with her dad's passing and the daunting task of renovating his old Victorian. I pushed aside the covers and headed to the kitchen, deciding to focus on something productive instead.

Mixing batter and heating the griddle, the routine of making Grandma's blueberry pancakes helped center my thoughts. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air as I hummed an old tune under my breath. I set the table just so, placing a single sunflower in a vase at the center, hoping the cheery bloom would lift Lucy's spirits.

Soft footsteps padded into the kitchen as I flipped the last golden pancake. Lucy stood in the doorway, wrapped in my oversize robe, auburn waves tumbling over her shoulders. Mr. Whiskers, her beloved stuffed bunny, was tucked under one arm. Our eyes met and a shy smile curved her lips, making my pulse quicken.

"Morning," she said softly. "Something smells amazing."

"Blueberry pancakes and fresh coffee," I announced, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. "Hope you're hungry."

"Famished." She slid into a chair as I brought over two steaming plates.

We fell into easy conversation over breakfast, talking about everything from Small Falls' quaint charm to our favorite books. I couldn't help noticing how her eyes lit up when she spoke about literature, hands animating as she described her love of horror stories. Cute how passionate she got. I made a point not to mention our intimate moment from the night before though, wanting to keep things light and comfortable between us. For now.

As we cleared the last bites from our plates, I leaned back in my chair, considering. "I was thinking," I began carefully, "maybe we could head over to your dad's place today. I can fix those pipes, and you can tackle prepping for painting."

Lucy sipped her coffee, green eyes thoughtful. "Sounds like a good plan," she agreed after a moment. "There's definitely a lot to do."

I nodded, relieved she was on board. "Great. This way, we can cover more ground. And don't worry—I'll stay out of your hair. We'll be in different rooms, focused on our own tasks."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You make it sound so strategic."

"Just trying to be efficient," I chuckled, gathering the dirty dishes.

“Don’t you need to open up the store?” she asked.

“I’m sure the town can survive without screws for a couple of days.”

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