Page 11 of Small Town Daddy

I laughed, the tension in my shoulders easing. As we continued cleaning, Marcus tilted his head, studying me. "You know, I remember you carrying him around when you were younger. Always tucked under your arm as you explored the town."

My cheeks flushed. "I can't believe you remember that," I said, equal parts mortified and oddly touched.

He shrugged, but his eyes were warm. "Hard to forget."

The air between us felt charged, electric, yet strangely comfortable. I found myself wanting to lean into that warmth, to bask in his kindness. It had been so long since anyone had looked at me like that – like I was worth remembering.

"It’s good to see you. A little bird told me you were back in town."

He was so . . . big.

"Yeah. I’ve got a big renovation project. My dad . . .”

“I was so sorry to hear about him. He was a good man.” He gave me a sincere look.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, Marie's voice broke through my reverie. "Looks like you two have things under control," she said, a satisfied grin playing on her lips as she sauntered over. Her eyes swept over the blue-spattered floor. "Maybe we should ask for professional help before we cause any more disasters."

Marcus chuckled. "I think that's a good idea."

I shot Marie a warning look, recognizing the mischievous glint in her eye. But she plowed ahead, seizing the moment. "You know, Marcus, Lucy's taking on a huge renovation all by herself. Maybe you could offer some guidance?"

"Marie . . ." I hissed, mortification flooding back. The last thing I needed was to look more incompetent in front of Marcus.

But when I glanced at him, Marcus seemed thoughtful rather than put off. "I'd be happy to help if you need it," he said, his voice soft and sincere.

My heart raced. Part of me longed to accept, to spend more time with this kind, understanding man. But another part of me, the part still clutching a paint-stained stuffed bunny, hesitated. What if he saw too much? What if he realized just how much of a mess I really was?

My cheeks burned as I stammered, "That's really kind of you, but I don't want to impose. I'm sure you're busy with the store." I hugged Mr. Whiskers closer, feeling exposed.

Marcus's blue eyes met mine, a hint of disappointment flickering in their depths. "I understand," he said softly. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

I mustered a smile, my stomach doing somersaults. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

We made our way to the checkout, my mind reeling. As Marcus rang up our items, Marie leaned in close.

"He's totally into you," she whispered, her breath tickling my ear.

I shook my head, feeling a mix of hope and panic. "Don't start," I muttered.

Outside, we loaded our arms with supplies. The familiar weight of Mr. Whiskers in my tote was oddly comforting.

Marie wasn't done. "He didn't even blink at Mr. Whiskers. That's a good sign."

I sighed, adjusting my grip on a paint can. "Or he's just really polite."

She nudged me with her elbow, nearly making me drop everything. "Or he sees you for who you are and likes it."

I bit my lip, torn between possibility and fear. Marcus had been so gentle, so understanding. But could anyone really accept all of me? The grown-up renovating a house and the little girl who still needed her stuffed bunny?

***

I sat cross-legged on the worn hardwood floor of Dad's old study, now my makeshift workspace. Mr. Whiskers lay in my lap, his fur damp from my careful cleaning. The scent of paint thinner and lemon soap lingered in the air.

"He was so kind," I murmured, smoothing Mr. Whiskers' floppy ear. "The way he looked at me, like . . . like he really saw me." My fingers trembled slightly. "But what if he thinks I'm childish? What if it's all too weird for him?"

I hugged Mr. Whiskers close, burying my face in his soft fur. The familiar comfort was there, but so was a sharp pang of vulnerability. I'd never let anyone see this side of me before. Only Marie.

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