Page 6 of Single Dad Dilemma

She frowns. “Mommy is?—”

“Going to love them,” Carson says, cutting her off.

I feel like I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth, so I hand over his card and receipt. “Well, enjoy.”

He nods as he grabs the box off the counter and drags Margo to the door.

“Why you say that?” Margo asks him, but the door closes and I can’t hear his answer.

I crane my neck to keep watching them, but they’re soon out of my view, and I have to let my eyes fall back to the register I’m standing in front of. I lean against the counter and think back on our conversation. It was weird the way he cut her off like that. He clearly did not want her telling me whatever she was trying to say. Something about her mom? Is he recently divorced? Is there some kind of trouble or story there that he didn’t want her spilling? I wish there was a way I could find out for sure, but Idon’t know how. This guy clearly doesn’t have any interest in me. He doesn’t seem to be looking for friends or anything more. Why do I care so much?

The door opens and Mrs. White walks in.

I shake off my confusion regarding him. “Good afternoon, Mrs. White.”

“Good afternoon, dear. Was that Carson Evans and his daughter I just saw walk out?” she asks, moving to stand in front of me on the opposite side of the counter.

I nod. “It was. They’ve been coming by about once a week to get her special treats. She’s super sweet.” I smile.

“Well, isn’t that nice. Such a shame though. That poor man and his daughter have been through too much already.”

My mouth drops open, but I snap it shut. My brows pull together. “What do you mean? You know about him?”

She nods. “Mm-hmm, I’m on the town committee, dear. I know everyone in this town and their backstory.”

“Are you going to tell me or hold out on me?” I tease as I pour her cup of coffee and hand it over.

She smiles. “Well, word on the street is that he just moved here from Chicago. He was some high-profile lawyer there and made boo koo bucks, but his wife passed away in a car accident a couple of years ago. He and his daughter moved here for a fresh start. I guess he couldn’t stand to look at their old home anymore. So sad…”

Wow, that is sad. Poor Margo. “Where’s he living at now?”

“He just bought a place on Shadow Mountain Lake on Highway 34. It’s the big cedar place with the floor to ceiling windows. You know the one.” She points at me.

I nod. “Wow, so he must have madeboo koobucks,” I say, using her term.

She nods. “What’s all this interest in him, honey? You’re not thinking of?—”

“No!” I jump to say. “It’s just a small town, you know? I know everyone that comes in here, except him. And he keeps himself so guarded that I knew he wouldn’t volunteer the information up willingly.”

She nods but offers up a sly smile like she doesn’t believe a word of it.

“Anyway, what will it be today? Donuts, croissants?”

It’s beenthree days since he last came into the bakery, and each day that passes seems to go by slower than the last. I don’t know why, but I want to see him again. I want to feel that tingle that forms in my stomach when he’s near. I want the breathlessness when his eyes meet mine. I want to be close enough to smell him, to feel his heat against my skin. I know, I know. Stupid. He’s a single father who’s still mourning his dead wife, but still, something is pulling me toward him, and I don’t know what.

I’ve never been the overly friendly type. I make friends easy enough, but I’ve never went out of my way to do so. I’ve never forced myself on anyone who didn’t seem to want my company, but all that gets thrown out the window when it comes to Carson.

I bake a dozen cupcakes and put them into a box, without icing. Then I get a half dozen piping bags and fill them with different colored frostings. I put everything into a bag and tell Jane to watch the place while I’m gone. I bet Margo would have a great time frosting these cupcakes, and it will give her something to do up on that mountain range.

I get behind the wheel and start my drive to the lake. I’m so nervous that I nearly turn around three different times, but Imanage to push through it and complete the drive. He’s going to be so confused as to why I’m here, why I’m doing this. What will my excuse be? Even I don’t know.

I pull into the drive, and the house is just as beautiful as I remember it. The entire house is made up of gray stone and cedar. The front door is painted a dark-forest green, and there is welcome wreath hanging on the door. I frown at that as I ring the doorbell. He doesn’t seem like much of a home decorator. Maybe the previous owners left it.

The door opens, and Carson is standing on the other side. He’s holding a phone between his ear and his shoulder. He frowns when he sees me there, but he motions for me to step inside. I do as I’m asked and close the door behind me. The entry way is fairly plan, with nothing inside but a desk and the stairwell to the second story, but the walls and ceiling are made up of a beautiful oak. The floor beneath my feet is cold stone with a rug in the center. The light in the center of the room is a chandelier made up of twisted twigs and sticks, giving it a nice country feel.

“Right, I understand that, but—” he says into the phone, motioning for me to follow him deeper into the house.

He leads me into the living room where he sits on the couch and bends over the coffee table with a bunch of documents scattered across it. He starts talking on the phone much faster, reading off whatever the papers say.

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