“Wait.” He held up a hand. “You were in the woods alone?”
She gave him a funny look. “Yeah.”
“You can’t hike alone,” he said, surprised to find his temper spiking.
“This isn’t a Stephen King novel.” She chuckled like his concern was absurd. “There are no monsters or scary clowns waiting to abduct me.”
She turned and walked toward a nearby pine tree when Rosie pointed to a squirrel chattering on a branch.
“Who needs clowns when Colorado has bears and mountain lions and cougars and—”
“A cougar is the same thing as a mountain lion,” she called over her shoulder.
He stalked after her. “You need a dog at least.”
“I’m perfectly safe on the trail, Shep.”
“Preferably one who’s trained to go for help if anything happens,” he continued. “We’ll talk to Cole. I’m sure he can recommend a breeder in the area.”
“If I wanted a dog, there’s a guy in town who runs a fantastic animal rescue organization.”
“Great,” Shep agreed. “Rosie and I will go with you. It’s going to be important that she likes the dog, too, at least for the time being.”
Paige’s gray eyes widened then narrowed as she glared at him over the top of his daughter’s head. “I’m not getting a dog,” she insisted.
“Gog,” Rosie said, looking around as if expecting to see one.
“No doggies here, girl,” Paige said with a gentle smile that tugged at Shep’s heart. Damn. He needed to keep his heart out of this situation. Before Rosie he’d never had a problem maintaining his emotional distance from people. But the little girl had opened him up in ways he’d never expected and didn’t much care for.
“We’ll table the dog conversation for later,” Shep conceded.
“Or for never,” Paige shot back, one delicate brow lifting. “Why do you even care? If I got eaten by a wild animal, you’d be able to continue with your nefarious plan for The Bumblebee unencumbered.”
“Nefarious?” Her use of the word almost made him chuckle. “It’s business, Paige. I don’t have some diabolical scheme planned to take over the town.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” she muttered.
She had a point but now wasn’t the time to admit that. “Which bedrooms should we take?” he asked. “I can grab our luggage from the car. We don’t have much, although you’ll need to do some shopping for Rosie. She’s growing out of her clothes every couple of weeks. It seems like just—”
Paige held up one hand. “Don’t even try to talk your way into staying with me. It’s not going to happen.”
“Of course it is.”
Rosie grunted to be put down, so Paige gently sat her in the grass then took a step closer to Shep. A gentle breeze lifted a wisp of hair that had come loose from her elastic band. He wanted to pull the thing out of her hair completely, and watch the dark curls spill over her shoulders. Even though she’d just finished her hike, Paige still smelled irresistible—a mix of flowers and something earthy—making Shep think of all the ways he wanted to get sweaty with her.
Wanting her seemed almost as dangerous as allowing an emotional connection between them. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her his best condescending smirk. The one he’d perfected as a teenager to annoy his father. Shep was a master at making people angry, and anger was the simplest emotion he could think of where Paige was concerned.
“You can’t prolong the inevitable,” he told her. “Despite our deal, I own this heap of a house.”
He could almost see steam rising from the sides of her head. “It’s not a heap,” she said tightly.
No, it wasn’t. The more he noticed about the two-story house, the more charming it became. From the detailed moldings to the original wood floors to the appealing way Paige had decorated. Once again, Shep couldn’t let his personal feelings interfere with business.
Real estate investments were one of the few things he was truly good at in life. He could spot a diamond in the rough a mile away, and as soon as he’d heard about this property, he’d understood its value in relation to reopening the ski area. Now the place held even more value because it was the only reason Paige had agreed to help him with Rosie.
He didn’t realize how alone he’d felt in his role as single dad until he wasn’t any longer. Yes, they could stay in the apartment or rent another house in town for more privacy. But for the first time in his life Shep wanted company. Maybe not the first time. Growing up a twin, he and Cole had always been together, even when they didn’t want to be anywhere near the other. Shep figured that’s what had accounted for his solitary nature once he broke with his family.
He could barely stand the thought of a woman spending the whole night with him, let alone moving in. But Paige was different. It was because of Rosie, he told himself, unwilling to admit how much he’d already come to crave the innkeeper’s company. Last night had been the first time he’d slept soundly since he’d gotten the call from Monica eight months ago. That had to be because of Paige and her promise to help him. It could only get better if they were under the same roof.
“We may have different taste, but that doesn’t change the fact that I own the property. I’m not tearing it down immediately, and you’ve got room. I might as well live here.”
“But I live here.” She tapped on the center of her chest with one finger. “I’m going to be booking guests.”
“So you keep saying.” He shrugged. “I’m not convinced.”
If looks could kill, he would have been sprawled across the lawn with blood trickling from the side of his mouth right about now.
“You doubt me?” she demanded.
“All I’m saying is you’ve been working on this place for a year, and Sienna is the only guest you’ve had. I’m managing the renovation of an entire lodge and ski mountain, and we plan to open for the holidays.”
“There have been unforeseen delays,” she said quietly. “I don’t have your budget or manpower. The workers just finished a project in the kitchen. I couldn’t have guests staying when the floor was ripped up.”
“Seems fine to me.”
“Now it is,” she ground out. “Up until last week—”
“Tell you what,” he interrupted. “Rosie and I will move in and if you end up with guests during the time we’re here, I’ll rent the rooms from you.”
Rosie crawled several feet across the green grass then sat on her bottom again, squealing in delight as the squirrel she’d been watching ran along a branch above her.
“That squirrel likes you, sweetheart,” Shep called, and his daughter clapped her hands together in delight.
“You’ll pay rent to live in a house you own?” Paige pressed two fingers to her temple, and he noticed that despite her tiny stature, her fingers were long and elegant with neat, rounded nails. Nails he’d like to feel on his bare sk—
Nope. Not going there. Not with this woman.
“I’ll pay,” he promised. He wasn’t sure why Paige Harper worked so hard to make The Bumblebee charming but was afraid to actually make a go of the business. If it weren’t for the delays, she might have convinced her mom not to sell. Even if she did open, he could convince her not to demand he let her buy it from him. She had childhood memories here. So what?
He’d had plenty of memories from all the military housing and rental homes his family had moved to over the years to support his father’s career in the army. Surprisingly, despite Shep’s contentious relationship with his dad, not all of them were bad. But a house was just a structure and everyone had a price. His father certainly had. Paige had one, too, and he was going to figure out what it was.
“Fine.” She threw up her hands. “You can have the room to the left at the top of the stairs. There’s a smaller bedroom across the hall I was planning to save for singles or overf
low guests. Rosie can stay there.”
“I have her portable crib in the back of my Porsche,” he said, earning a small smile from Paige.
“It doesn’t sound right to say the words crib and Porsche in the same sentence.”
“Trust me, I know,” he admitted. “My preferred model is the Boxster, but I had to sell it when Rosie came into my life. There wasn’t room for a car seat, let alone all the stuff I’ve had to haul to move her.”
Paige gave a mock pout and pretended to wipe away tears. “What a hardship. I feel so sorry for you in your fancy SUV.”
Moving closer, Shep reached out and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. He’d been wanting to touch her, to feel for himself if her curls were as soft as they looked. Softer, in fact.
“Why do I like it when you give me grief?” he asked quietly.
“Because you’re a masochist?” she replied with an overly sweet smile.
He threw back his head and laughed. It had been so long since he’d laughed like this. The only thing that stopped him from pulling Paige Harper into his arms was the fact that his daughter called to him.
Paige took a step back, her fingertips pressing against her lips like he really had kissed her.
He bent as Rosie speed-crawled toward them then lifted her into his arms, wiping the grass from her knees. “You look like a feather would send you to the ground,” he told Paige. “But you’re strong. Not a pushover. That’s what it is.”
A blush stained her cheeks, and she rolled her eyes, as if she didn’t believe or chose to discount his words. But he saw the smile that played at the corners of her mouth and felt like he’d done something really good.
For a man who spent most of his days worried he was on the verge of screwing up not only his life, but also his daughter’s, it was a sensation he could get used to.
“Give me five minutes to shower,” Paige told him, not acknowledging the compliment, “and I’ll help you carry in your stuff.”
Without waiting for an answer, she headed for the house.
“We did it, baby girl,” he said to Rosie, kissing the top of her head. He couldn’t wait to see what happened next.
Chapter Five
“I’m roasting a chicken,” Paige said casually when Shep walked into the kitchen later that afternoon, “if you want dinner.”
She looked up from the tomatoes she was chopping for a caprese salad to find Shep’s startled gaze darting back and forth between her and Rosie. The little girl sat in the high chair Paige had carried from the basement, contentedly playing with a hunk of homemade Play-Doh Paige had whipped up during Rosie’s nap.
Once they’d unpacked the car, Shep had seemed almost as uncomfortable as Paige felt with just the two of them and Rosie in the house. Paige had made turkey sandwiches, with watermelon slices, for lunch, although Shep had taken some convincing to eat with her.
“You don’t have to make food for us,” he’d said, his big hand scratching the shadow of stubble across his jaw. “It’s enough that you’re helping with Rosie.”
“Rosie is part of the bargain,” she answered, shoving the plate into his hands. “Meals are an added bonus.” She’d shrugged when he gave her a questioning look. “Don’t read too much into it. If I’m going to run a bed-and-breakfast, I need practice preparing food for more than just myself.”
“This is lunch.” He’d held up the sandwich as if she didn’t know the difference.
“Just eat it,” she told him. “For a man who practically bullied his way into my home, you aren’t good at accepting simple kindness when it’s offered.”
“You hate me.” One brow lifted. “You said it yourself. Maybe you’ve poisoned the turkey.”
“I can’t hold a grudge,” she’d admitted. “It’s one of my most annoying traits.”
“Not to the people who make you mad.”
They’d eaten in an awkward silence punctuated by Rosie’s soft babbling. He’d helped clear the dishes, and Paige had jumped like she’d touched an open flame when they bumped into each other while loading the dishwasher.
“What’s she doing?” he asked now, inclining his head toward Rosie.
“Play-Doh.”
“Why is she so happy?”
“Um...” Paige paused, set down the knife on the counter. “I guess she had a good nap?”
He edged closer to the island where Paige worked, like Rosie was a wild animal he was circling and he didn’t want to spook her.
“A good nap,” he repeated then froze when Rosie glanced up and saw him.
Paige’s heart constricted as she watched his shoulders sag with relief when the girl flashed a bright smile.
“Dada!” Rosie called, holding up her arms.
“Hey, there, darlin’.” Shep’s smile was heartbreakingly gentle as he moved toward his daughter. “I missed you while you were napping. Looks like you’re having some fun with Miss Paige.”
Rosie held up a handful of Play-Doh then let it drop to the high chair tray with a thunk. “Doh,” she reported happily but shook her head and made a sound of distress when he went to lift her into his arms.
“Okay then,” Shep said with a nod. He pulled over a chair from the kitchen table and sat with Rosie, twirling bits of dough in his fingers to make different shapes.
Paige thought about her own father, who’d died of a heart attack her junior year of college. Thomas Harper had been an accountant at a big firm in Denver. He’d gone to work five days a week—more during tax season—then come home to read the paper in his office until Paige’s mother called him for dinner. The only time he’d deviated from his routine was during Paige’s hospital stays. Then he’d come to the pediatric ward after work and read the paper in the chair outside Paige’s room until her mom was ready for dinner in the hospital cafeteria.
Paige knew her father loved her, even if he didn’t often demonstrate it beyond a pat to the head or a stiff hug before bedtime. It was sweet to see how hard Shep worked to bond with Rosie, even if he often looked slightly uncomfortable doing it. She wondered if he’d be so attentive if Rosie’s first months had been normal. If he and his ex-girlfriend had been a real family.
It still made Paige’s temper boil to think of what that innocent child had gone through because of her mother’s negligence. If the woman were here right now, Paige would tell her just what she thought about—
“Am I doing it wrong?”
Shep’s question pulled Paige back to the present moment.
“What?”
“Maybe you want to drop the knife,” he suggested quietly.
She glanced down and realized she’d grabbed the chopping blade, holding it in front of her abdomen like she was wielding a weapon.
“I was thinking about your ex-girlfriend,” she admitted, placing the knife on the cutting board again.
Shep stared at her a long moment then burst out laughing. Paige chuckled, too, then Rosie let out a howl of delight that set them all to another round of laughter.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said with a shake of her head. “The knife wasn’t... I’d never... It just happened that...”
“I know,” Shep said, his smile warming her to her toes.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” she continued then held up one finger. “Except the part about manipulating me to let you move in. You’re great with Rosie—a real natural.”
“Nah,” he protested. “I’m a bumbling idiot most of the time. I didn’t even own a high chair and look how much she likes it.”
“A high chair isn’t a big deal. She knows you love her. That’s what’s most important. You make her feel safe.”
“I hate that she’s ever known anything different.”
The emotion in his voice made her want to wrap her arms around him. Dangerous territory and a big part of the reason she hadn’t
wanted Shep so close. But now he was here, and she’d deal with it. She was no pushover—he’d said it himself.
“You said something about dinner.” Shep straightened from the chair and walked to the other side of the island, spreading his hands out against the granite counter.
“Roast chicken?” Paige wanted to smack herself upside the head. She sounded like someone’s grandma.
“Can we take a rain check?” he asked, one big shoulder lifting. “I have plans tonight.”
“Oh.” Disappointment crested inside her like a wave during a tropical storm. “I didn’t realize.” No wonder he’d been so keen to move in instead of just having her as a nanny during the workweek. She was a live-in babysitter, twenty-four-hour access, so Shep could go back to the life he’d known before Rosie.
Okay, Paige didn’t know much of anything about his life before Rosie, but she could imagine. Between the charm and the easy smile, not to mention the fact that he was cover-model gorgeous, Shep must have had women lined up to date him. What would make her think he’d want to spend the evening with her?
This was business, Paige reminded herself for the umpteenth time. She could not get personally involved.
“Leave instructions for Rosie,” she said coolly, picking up the knife and returning her attention to the tomato. “Bedtime, any particular routine, what stories—Ouch.” She grabbed a nearby dish towel and pressed it to the cut at the tip of her index finger. Not that she’d done it on purpose but at least this gave her an excuse to react to the pain slicing through her chest.
“Let me see.” Shep reached across the island for her hand.
She shrugged away from his grasp. “It’s fine.” Then she turned for the sink and flipped on the faucet, running cold water over her finger to rinse out the cut.
“Where’s the first-aid kit?” Shep asked from directly behind her.
“Second shelf in the pantry.” She turned off the water and wrapped a paper towel around her finger. “I can get it.”
“Sit down.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
Anything for His Baby Page 5
