Page 9 of The Single Dad Dilemma

“Being… Lou,” he says, and he laughs a little louder than I expect. “She’s a free spirit. Not afraid to speak her mind. She pushes back, questions everything, and has a nasty habit of liberating any and all class pets from their cages.”

Oh my god, that’s quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever heard, and I find myself desperately wanting to become best friends with a five-year-old. “Wow, that’s…”

He braces himself, and I wonder if he thinks I might be about to say something awful.

“That’s amazing,” I finish.

Ridge’s body uncoils a bit, his muscles seeming to relax at my words.

“Thank you for saying that, really, but I just want to be truthful about what you’d be getting yourself into,” he says.

“May I ask a question? I don’t want to seem inappropriate. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Is Lou’s mother in the picture? I thought maybe you were divorced or you had her for the summer or something?”

“No, uh, she’s not,” he says, deflating with a much sadder sigh than before. “She died giving birth to Lou. Her name was Vanessa.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, cupping a hand over my mouth. “I shouldn’t have?—”

“No, please,” he says. “Don’t apologize. It was a bit more complicated than that.”

I don’t push for more. Am I very curious to know what he means by a bit more complicated? Absolutely. But now is not the time.

He stares into my eyes for what feels like a long time. My snooping has painted us into a conversational corner with no path for a smooth transition.

“Here’s the rub, Darcy,” he says, snapping out of the trance.

An abrupt course correction really is the only way through. I’m glad he did it, because I was lost in the forest of those dark eyes of his, and there were no breadcrumbs to lead me out.

“This is the longest interview I’ve had with anyone today. You’re not creepy, you didn’t get fired from your last job for being a homewrecker, and you didn’t cancel or mention praying for my soul. I need someone to start right away. And by right away, I mean tomorrow. Summer is a busy season for the shop, and I have tattoo conventions I’m supposed to attend. It’s Monday through Friday for you. Lou goes to Vanessa’s parents’ every other weekend, and anything I do is while she’s away, so I don’t need weekends from you. You’ve got me by the ba—um, you’ve got me in a good spot, because I’m desperate. And if you’re okay with all of that, I would kindly ask that you go home, do the math, and tell me what you’ll need to be paid in order to comfortably—and I do mean comfortably—pay your bills and tuition, and you can have it.”

I blink rapidly for several seconds. “Are you serious?”

“Darcy,” he says, leaning over his desk toward me again. “This is the plea of a desperate man. The job is yours if you’ll take it.”

I should be skeptical. I should, after taking a good, long look at this man’s gorgeous face, run for the hills. Instead, I hold my hand out to him.

“You have a deal.”

FIVE

RIDGE

When I got home from work today, I took a look around and decided it wasn’t clean enough for Darcy to walk into. It’s one thing to have someone over for a half hour and corral them as you’re hanging out. But this woman is going to have an extended period of unsupervised time here, and humans are curious by nature. If I were her, I would definitely be a little snoopy.

So after starting laundry, I cleaned the bathrooms, swept and mopped the whole house, loaded the dishwasher, fed Lou, deodorized the furniture, refilled the scent plug-in thingies that Alma gave me, folded the laundry, and took out the trash. Then I collapsed onto the couch.

Lou’s watching some nature documentary about a rare type of bird that only lives on this one island in the whole world. I swear I don’t know where she gets her fascination for these things. I don’t know any other kids her age who watch this stuff. They’re all watching that purple dinosaur or that blue dog or that melon baby.

You know what, now that I think about it, this is better. I’d probably glaze over watching those kiddie shows.

“So are you excited for Darcy to start watching you tomorrow?” I ask Lou, her attention split between the television and her coloring page.

“Yeah, I think she seems fun,” she says.

“And listen, Lou, I need you to try really hard to be good for her. This is our last shot.”

---