Snowed in with the Single Dad

by Melinda Curtis

  Laurel drew a deep breath, grasping on to the logical explanation, seeking balance, trying not to sound like she—the sturdy Monroe—was crumbling inside while her head was between her knees. “Does the... Does the altitude make people do foolish things?”

  “Yes.” That sounded like a bedroom yes.

  Laurel sat up slowly. She looked into his eyes—his kind, kind eyes—and then for no reason whatsoever—except for the altitude thing—her gaze dropped to his mouth—his kind, kissable mouth.

  Laurel gasped and closed her eyes, willing herself to be anywhere but here, alone, with a man she wanted to kiss.

  The wind shuddered past, rattling the SUV in a way that sounded like a chuckle.

  “Can you just drive?”

  Mitch chuckled, much like the wind-rattled SUV.

  “There’s nothing funny about this, Counselor.” Laurel cracked her eyes open and peeked at him.

  He stared back, knowing exactly what she meant by this if the rueful smile was any indication. This. Their attraction.

  “How do you think I feel about it, Miss Laurel?” Oh, the intensity of his gaze.

  Her heart pounded. “I know you’re not blaming Baby and my increasing hormones the way I am.” Laurel closed her eyes again. “But from your perspective? You have an impressionable young daughter and I’m pregnant with no man waiting in the wings to step up and make an honest woman out of me. Not that I’m a floozy.” Was that still a word? “I made an error in judgment, that’s all. But if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t want me around as a role model, either.” That hurt more to say out loud than she’d thought it would. “But honestly, that pink dress did not lead to my downfall.”

  “That pink dress was made for seduction. That picture of you...”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” And she’d try not to take anything else from it. Like a kiss. “And that’s the end of discussion about this.”

  Mitch sighed heavily, which was nice since he probably had more arguments why their attraction could never be acted upon.

  “We should go.” Laurel glanced over her shoulder to see if there were any cars coming down the hill.

  The road was still empty.

  “Very few people use this highway during the peak of winter.” There was a different timbre to his voice now. Less the Kind Mitch and more Mitch, the Hater of Monroes. “You’ll appreciate the sparse traffic when you drive away from Second Chance in a day or so.”

  He’d pivoted to a new topic with ease. They probably trained lawyers to do that.

  He snapped on his seat belt. “I can drive you to the airport whenever you’re ready.”

  He couldn’t wait to get rid of her. That stung. “In no time, you’ll be back where you belong.”

  “But nothing will be the same. I’ll go back to being invisible. And my dreams...” Tears gathered in her eyes. She turned her head toward the window and tried to ignore how her stomach did somersaults.

  “You’re going to land on your feet,” Mitch said, once more using his kind voice.

  Laurel wiped away her tears. “Every day the world chews up people’s dreams and spits them out.” That was what Grandpa Harlan used to say. “Some people aren’t strong enough to bounce back from that.”

  “You’re stronger than you know,” Mitch said gruffly, putting the SUV in Drive. “If I can see it, it must be true.”

  Her stomach stopped flip-flopping.

  Laurel hugged his words to her chest, if only because they made Baby feel more secure.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “WE’RE HERE.” MITCH’S deep voice and the slight jolt of the SUV as it came to a stop roused Laurel.

  She blinked and rubbed her cold cheek. She’d been resting it against the window.

  He’d stopped in front of a wide, shoveled walkway leading to the medical building.

  Laurel stayed buckled up, staring at the building’s tinted windows that revealed nothing about what was inside or what awaited her.

  Since she’d discovered she was pregnant, worry about the fallout of her news and logistics about how she was going to make things work had been her chief concerns. But now...

  “Laurel?” Mitch prompted.

  Her hand gripped the door latch, but she didn’t pull it free. “I’m going to be a mom.”

  “Yes.”

  “But...” Laurel dragged her gaze around to Mitch. “I’ve never changed a diaper in my life.”

  “That doesn’t alter the fact that you’re pregnant.”

  Laurel choked on a breath.

  His mouth worked as if it couldn’t decide upon a gear—neutral or a driving grin. He settled on a neutral smile, one that reassured.

  “Don’t worry. I took parenting classes when my wife was pregnant with Gabby. We learned how to change diapers and burp babies. The hospital required us to do it.”

  “I don’t want to let Baby down.” She watched a pregnant woman emerge from the clinic, accompanied by an older woman, possibly her loving, supportive mother. Some of the high-elevation numbness returned. “Nobody important knows I’m pregnant.”

  “I take exception to that remark.”

  “You know what I mean.” She looked at Mitch again, him and his cynically quirking brows. “My parents. My siblings.”

  “And the father,” Mitch said as if she needed reminding.

  “Him, too.” The heat was blasting through the vents, but Laurel was still chilled. Her toes ached with cold. “I’ll tell them today.” Starting with Ashley.

  “You’re procrastinating, Miss Laurel.” Sighing, Mitch found a parking spot. “You can’t run away from pregnancy. You’re going in.”

  Panic threatened to swallow her up again. She’d promised Cousin Sophie she’d tell her family after she saw the doctor. But then again, she’d promised her sister, Ashley, she’d only be gone a few days and it’d turned into four weeks. “But—”

  He reached over the console and took Laurel’s shoulders, turning her to face him. “All your life you’ve been caring for your sister and putting her needs first.”

  Laurel nodded.

  “When you become a parent, you put your child’s needs first.” His fingers pressed on her shoulders as if trying to make his words sink into her very core. She wanted him to pull her closer. She wanted to sink into his strong chest and make that strength hers. “You put them above all others. Often above your own needs and dreams. But if a dream is important you have to chase it, if only to show your child that dreams matter.”

  Mitch was a well-educated, smart man. And yet, he ran an inn in the middle of nowhere. With sudden insight, Laurel knew why. He’d chosen to make his daughter his priority.

  “Did you always know you wanted to be a lawyer?” Had he given up a lifelong dream for Gabby?

  “No.” Mitch laughed mirthlessly. “My father was a cop. I was raised to honor the law and speak the truth. To believe in things like rainbows and dreams. Only it turned out my father wasn’t quite so honorable. He was dirty, lying about everything. Who he was. What he valued.” Mitch stared deep into Laurel’s eyes. “When they locked him away, I was sixteen. I promised him...” He grimaced. “I promised him I’d become a prosecutor. I promised him I’d do what he should have done.”

  “You wanted to make things right in the world after yours had been upended.”

  His brow furrowed. “Only, somewhere along the line I became a defense attorney.” He sounded disappointed in himself.

  “I hear the money’s better,” Laurel said softly, trying to lighten his spirits.

  Mitch nodded. “But the lies... They get bigger. And I discovered I can’t fight to right a lie.”

  The cold from outside penetrated Laurel’s chest. The Twin Switch was essentially a lie. He’d never understand her predicament.

  “I miss practicing law. Sometimes.” His
grip on her shoulders eased. His gaze turned distant. “At its best, I used to help people get their lives back on track. I used to think I was making a difference in my little corner of the world. But...”

  He’d been hurt, too. Disillusioned, he’d said earlier. It was there in his voice and the vulnerable look in his eyes.

  “But you have Gabby.”

  He smiled, coming back to her. “There is that.”

  She’d seen Mitch smile before. Kind smiles. Polite smiles. Rueful smiles. But never a smile like this. A smile of pure, unapologetic joy. That smile. It reached into her chest like a heart-to-heart hug. It said everything was going to be all right.

  “I don’t regret anything I gave up,” he said. “My choices made a difference in Gabby’s life and laid a foundation for the woman she’s going to become. My daughter is going to go out and make a difference in the lives of others. And that’s an extension of me. That is, if...” His hands fell away abruptly as if he realized he’d been holding on to Laurel and shouldn’t have been. “Come on. I’ll walk you in.”

  If...

  If he could stay in Second Chance.

  He got out and came around to open her door, during which time Laurel realized she was warm from head to toe and Baby wasn’t lurching.

  Mitch didn’t know it, but he’d just made a difference in another life—Laurel’s. He’d rejected their attraction. He’d reject her if he knew the truth about Wyatt. But he’d made her feel better about parenthood and the choices ahead of her.

  I can do this.

  She just might have to repeat that statement a hundred or so more times before she believed it completely.

  Laurel let Mitch help her out of the car and held on to his arm as they traversed the icy parking lot. He’d probably walk her up to the doors and leave her.

  The outer doors slid open and Mitch didn’t leave.

  The inner doors slid open and Mitch didn’t leave, but he did pause.

  It felt like every pair of eyes in the waiting room turned their way. Some even lowered their gossip magazines to look at them.

  Laurel had forgotten she shared a famous face with her sister. Out of habit, she drew her red hair forward and turned, pretending to study a photograph of the majestic Sawtooth Mountains hanging on the wall.

  Mitch frowned slightly but didn’t return to his SUV. Instead, he marched Laurel across the lobby to the receptionist.

  “Oh, I know who you are.” The receptionist gushed the way Ashley’s fans did when they recognized her. “Welcome, welcome. Such a surprise.”

  She thinks I’m Ashley.

  What would pregnancy rumors do to her sister’s career?

  Laurel took a step away from disaster.

  Mitch placed a gentle hand at the base of Laurel’s back, keeping her steady. “Baby first,” he murmured.

  He was right.

  That didn’t erase the urge to flee, but it made her ignore the impulse.

  The receptionist shuffled papers. “You’re the surprise referral from Dr. Bishop. I can’t remember the last time we had a patient from Second Chance. We were all surprised when he called us. We’ll need this paperwork filled out and get you back to see the doctor lickety-split.”

  She hadn’t been recognized?

  Relieved to be anonymous, Laurel let Mitch lead her to a seat near the windows and set pen to paper. The mundane task of filling in her address and health history set her mind at ease. It helped that Mitch sat next to her, his arm draped over her chair back.

  All too soon, a nurse emerged from a door and called, “Laurel?”

  Laurel tried to get to her feet, but her knees buckled, and she sat down hard.

  “I’ve got you,” Mitch said. And he did. He helped her to her feet and over to the nurse.

  “Follow me,” the nurse said.

  And they did.

  It all happened so fast.

  And then Laurel was sitting in an exam room with Mitch.

  * * *

  SHANE WAS OUT the door and down the steps of the Lodgepole Inn before the white truck’s engine shut off.

  He stood near the driver’s-side door, feeling as if he’d just received a long awaited, much longed-for delivery—a real estate consultant.

  Talking to town residents hadn’t given Shane what he needed to make a presentation to the family. He’d put Flip’s recommendation to talk to Gertie Clark on hold for just that reason. What Shane needed in order to give his family and the town a plan for what happened next were facts and projections.

  “You must be Glen Keugler.” Shane thrust out his hand.

  “Yes.” Glen was a slight, elderly man with a hunch to his shoulders that didn’t straighten upon standing. “And you must be Shane Monroe. Glad to meet you.” He took in the vista that was Second Chance’s main drag. “Interesting town. Been on this road several times. Can’t say I’ve ever stopped. You say you’re considering developing some land?”

  “Maybe. Everything’s up for discussion. That’s why you’re here.” Shane needed an unbiased assessment of Second Chance—in its current state, in some quaint iteration of itself as a preferred stop on a highway, and as some type of redevelopment project. He glanced over his shoulder toward the diner. “Your firm specializes in a unique form of market analysis.”

  At the Bent Nickel, Roy pressed his nose against the glass, turning to say something to whichever residents were inside.

  Glen nodded. “Our economic models are based on information from similar communities across the country.”

  “Let’s walk down here.” Shane led Glen away from the diner.

  “My team of consultants has a depth of commercial experience.” Glen’s gaze swept his surroundings with a calculating eye. “It’s unlikely anyone would protest if you wanted to build a resort this far out.”

  “That’s interesting.” Encouraging if he’d been Cousin Holden, who was adamant they challenge the will and Grandpa Harlan’s state of mind or sell the town as soon as possible. And Shane? He was still collecting facts to make an informed decision, trying not to admit that the small town was growing on him, frustrating as his situation was.

  “On the other hand, old towns like this have valuable tourist potential with the right guidance.” Glen surveyed the main drag once more. “I see many darkened storefronts.”

  “Snowbirds and failed businesses.”

  “I looked over the property records you sent me, though,” Glen said, his voice carrying farther than Shane liked. “If you decide to parcel the land into ranchettes or a resort, you’ll need to be prepared to answer questions if anyone does look your way—naturalists, environmentalists, preservationists. Second Chance borders national lands, so I can’t guarantee who will want to be involved.”

  Shane cast a glance over his shoulder. No one was following them. Good. “What kind of questions?” Glen made it sound like there were a lot of hoops to jump through.

  “It could be anything.” Glen slowed. “The extent of intended development. Ecological impact. Historical significance or as yet unpassed preservation plans. Even something as seemingly mundane as discrepancies in property specifics.” The older man stopped walking and turned to face the town proper. “For example, you told me a cabin was missing from the town survey.”

  “My cousin Ella discovered it was gone.” Shane didn’t want to linger in town. He wouldn’t put it past Roy or Ivy to join them. He continued walking toward the fork in the road and the buildings beyond it. “I think my grandfather moved it to Philadelphia.”

  Glen followed, still at a slow clip. “But we need an explanation.”

  “Why?” Shane’s foot slipped on the icy road. He caught himself before he fell. He’d resisted buying snow boots. He’d been raised to live the leader look. Image was important. Corporate leaders didn’t dress like they lived on a mountain, even when they were tempora
rily living on a mountain. But unlike his grocery delivery recipients, his attire earned him no points with Glen.

  “You haven’t been here long, have you?” The older man pointed to Shane’s leather loafers.

  “Trust me. I’ve been here too long.” Shane missed the bright lights and nonstop action of Las Vegas. He missed hot days and warm nights, short sleeves and bathing suits. Especially women in bathing suits. All the women here were either bundled up like snowmen or old enough to be his grandmother.

  “Let’s run the hypothetical.” Glen stopped to study the old steepled church across the highway. “Let’s say the missing cabin was Abraham Lincoln’s.”

  “Which it most definitely is not.” Thank heavens, because this was complicated enough already.

  Shane’s phone buzzed with a text message. It had to be Holden. No one else texted him anymore.

  Glen chuckled. “For the sake of argument, let’s say it was Lincoln’s cabin and it had vanished. How would you, as owner of the town, answer questions when the government asks?” Glen turned his gaze to Shane, white brows lowering. “Because if anyone decides they want to stop you from developing the land or tearing down these wonderfully preserved old buildings, all it takes is just one discrepancy for a judge to sign a cease and desist order.”

  “I’ll track down a paper trail.” Shane walked the center line of the highway. “I called you for a reason, Glen. I called you because your website promised recommendations about unusual properties.” To nurture the existing businesses or to cut their losses and run. Those were the answers Shane sought.

  “My recommendations take time.” Glen gave Shane a knowing smile. “And cost money.”

  Shane moved a chess piece in his head and smiled back. He might not have a regular paycheck at the moment, but he had savings and investments. “Name your price.”

  * * *

  “YOU WILL NOT stay here during the exam.” Laurel tried to sound firm, but her tone wavered, and she clung to Mitch’s hand.

  He let her.

  She was scared. While the nurse had taken Laurel’s vitals, she’d asked three times if things were normal. While a lab tech had taken her blood, she’d asked twice about the tests they’d run.