The Single Dad Next Door

by Jessica Keller

  “Dad, I’m pretty hungry.” Skylar’s voice made him jump. “I know we had snacks, but I want some more.”

  As if he were a teenager again getting caught by his father cuddling with a girl, Kellen backed away from Maggie. He tapped his watch and hopped to his feet. “Yup, it’s been a half hour. Time to head out.”

  They gathered the picnic blanket and Maggie picked up Ruthy again. He fell into step behind them as everyone headed back toward the parking lot.

  He was a mess. After two years of trying to grow in his faith and become a man of quality, he’d almost kissed a woman he hardly knew. One he wasn’t sure he even trusted. And why? Because they’d shared an honest moment and opened up about old wounds. Did he need to feel close to someone that badly?

  Even if he felt a draw to Maggie, she’d never want him and all his baggage. Someone with so many mistakes to his name didn’t deserve a happy ending. Not the way Maggie did. She’d lived a good life, been faithful to caring for her family and probably hadn’t compromised herself with the one guy she’d dated.

  People like Maggie got happy endings. Not him.

  Unless she made it all up.

  He stopped walking.

  No. She wouldn’t do that, would she? Was Maggie truly what she seemed, or was she being kind to him and his girls because he held her future in his hands? Because she had something to gain?

  Chapter Seven

  Maggie’s stomach grumbled as they pulled up the driveway.

  “See?” Skylar tapped Maggie’s shoulder. “She’s hungry, too. What’s for dinner?”

  Kellen put the car in Park, unbuckled his seat belt and then turned in his seat to catch Maggie’s attention. “Should we order pizza?”

  “Um.” Maggie bit her lip as her mind swirled with conflicting thoughts.

  Kellen hated Ida’s home and didn’t want to honor her memory—but Maggie was finding it hard to dislike him after he’d shared so openly at the beach. With the new information, she considered him a capable and brave man. But he could still ruin all her dreams. She’d placed her hopes in a man once. Look how well that had gone. Alan had walked off with not only her hopes, but all her money. Everything. She’d been so foolish to believe he’d pay her back...to trust.

  She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let down her walls again. Even for friendship. She had to guard her heart. Like always.

  It was all she had left to claim as hers.

  She pushed the unlock button on the door and opened it. “I’ll have to pass. There’s so much to do. I shouldn’t have even come with you guys. We have guests tomorrow.” Climbing out of the car, she tripped a little and caught herself on the door.

  “Careful.” Kellen jogged around the front of the car to meet her. “Want me to carry the basket and blanket over?”

  Behind him, Skylar helped Ruthy out of her seat.

  Maggie walked backward. “There are beds to strip and sheets to wash and iron. Bathrooms to clean. Food to prep.”

  Kellen eased the basket out of her hands. “Sounds like a pizza for sure, then.”

  They were following her across the yard. Didn’t they understand that she had work to do? “I can’t.”

  “You can.” Kellen opened the gate for her and made a sweeping gesture, welcoming her to keep walking.

  No one ever got it. Maggie had so much to do. So much to juggle on her own. That was why she had only a few close friends in town. Good friends—but no one who stopped to help her. They’d invite her to their parties. Ask her over for a meal. But Maggie turned them down time after time in order to work around the inn, and their invites had become fewer and more spaced apart until some vanished altogether.

  She climbed her porch and footsteps creaked behind her. Maggie spun around, making Kellen bump into her.

  Maggie sidestepped him and squatted to be at eye level with Skylar and Ruthy. “Girls, there are some cookies in the Tupperware container sitting on the kitchen island. Go ahead and help yourself.”

  Ruthy grinned. “Can I have two?”

  “Sure.” Maggie smiled back as both girls rushed inside.

  Still holding the basket and a blanket draped over his arm, Kellen leaned against the porch railing. “Why do I feel like this doesn’t bode well for me?”

  She faced him. “Listen. I had a nice time at the dunes. Thank you for inviting me.”

  He pushed off the railing and closed the distance between them in two steps, placing the basket and blanket on one of the chairs that lined the porch. “Is that your default when you’re scared? The formality?” He tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow.

  Never one to back down, Maggie crossed her arms. “This has nothing to do with being afraid. I was raised correctly, so I was attempting to politely ask you to leave.”

  His eyebrows dove. “Ask me to leave?”

  “I have so much to get done and I can’t push back those responsibilities any longer or else I’m going to be up until one in the morning, and no one wants a grumpy innkeeper greeting guests tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

  “Don’t you see—I do.” Maggie dropped her arms and balled her hands at her sides. No one got it. No one ever understood how alone she was in everything. “If I don’t do it, no one else will. There’s just me. There’s always just been me. I’m stuck taking care of everything, so if you’ll just excuse me—”

  He grabbed her arm as she tried to turn and leave, gently pulling her back to face him. “Maggie, wait—”

  Okay, now she was more than frustrated with Kellen. Maggie jerked away from his touch. “Don’t you want the place looking its best for your guests tomorrow?”

  Kellen raised his hands in surrender. “I’m trying to offer you help.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you want to help me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He stepped around her and opened the back door. “The inn is mine, after all.”

  Ah. So there was his reason. Not because he wanted to ease Maggie’s load, but—like with the office—he wanted to have his hands in everything that happened at the inn.

  He wanted control.

  Maggie brushed past him into the kitchen. Fine. She’d take his help and give him the worst jobs. Why not? He was offering, after all.

  Kellen pulled out his cell phone. “What’s the best pizza place in town?”

  “You don’t have to order.” Maggie had grabbed the basket off the back porch and started unpacking it. She had a few recipes for one-pot dinners. If the girls liked noodles she could make one of those. “I’ll make something.”

  He leaned around her and pulled the cloth napkins out of the basket, his arm brushing hers in the process. “You just said we have a lot to do. Making dinner will only push us further behind.” He tossed the napkins and blanket into a hamper she kept on the hall floor. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

  Maggie ran her fingertips over the goose bumps that had broken out on the skin he’d just touched. “Anything besides olives.”

  They got the girls settled in the living room with a board game and cups of apple juice and silently went to work cleaning the kitchen side by side. Without being asked, Kellen unloaded the dishwasher, reloaded it and filled the sink so he could scrub the couple pots she’d left soaking. Maggie filled a bucket with the supplies she’d need to make sure the bathrooms in the three rooms the guests would be using were clean.

  She looped two heavy buckets on her arms and grabbed a mop in one hand and a broom in the other. Sweat trickled down her spine and she hadn’t started the real work yet. As she moved to back out of the kitchen into the public part of the inn, Kellen turned around, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

  He rounded the island. “What else do you— Do you want me to help you carry that stuff upstairs?”


  “No.” She pulled the buckets close. “I’m fine. I do this all the time.”

  “It’s just—”

  “I’m fine.” Maggie’s arms shook. She tried to reposition the buckets so the handles weren’t cutting into her skin so much.

  “All right.” Kellen pressed his lips together, obviously wanting to say more. “What’s next for me to do?”

  “Start a load of laundry and straighten the main areas where the guests spend time. They should be fine, but just spot-check the lobby and dining room.” She pushed back against the door.

  “And after that?” He followed her into the public area and then smiled. “You did say we had a lot to do.”

  “All the sheets will need to be ironed before we can dress the beds. That sort of thing.” Before he could ask anything else, Maggie retreated up the stairs and went to work scrubbing and mopping. She should have done all these chores the other day after the previous guests left, but there had been a to-do list a mile long full of other things. Would she always be behind? It would appear so. In both innkeeping and life. No. When it came to life, it seemed she was on an entirely different path from her peers.

  A path to nowhere.

  Forty minutes later Kellen hollered from downstairs that the pizza had arrived. Maggie finished everything in the final room, so the only chore left was to make the beds. She trudged down the stairs, feeling tired and shaky. After dinner she’d have to start ironing—her most dreaded task.

  She entered the kitchen and tucked the buckets away in a closet she used for storing linens and cleaning supplies and then joined the Ashbys at the kitchen table. Skylar and Ruthy were already chomping down on their second pieces of pizza.

  Kellen passed a plate across the table. “Sorry, I couldn’t get them to wait.”

  “No worries.” Maggie dropped down into her seat and started eating. She rolled her shoulders once. So sore, and still more work to go. When would she get to sleep?

  As she reached for a drink she noticed a bunch of pressed sheets draped over the back of the couch. “Are those ironed?”

  Kellen set down his cup. “I didn’t know which ones you wanted, so I ironed them all. I hope that’s okay.”

  All of them?

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Maggie blinked back tears. Get a grip! Why was she being so emotional about some ironed sheets?

  He shrugged. “I like ironing. It’s relaxing.”

  Shaking away her thoughts, Maggie played with the napkin on her lap. “No one likes ironing.”

  “My mom used to make me in high school. I got pretty good at it and don’t mind the task.” He put another piece of pizza on Skylar’s plate. “It’s better than the alternative. Believe me, I went through an all-wrinkled, grunge phase. It wasn’t pretty.”

  The four of them chatted through dinner, and then Maggie dished up ice cream. Skylar talked nonstop about her class and teacher and the girl she played with at recess. Ruthy was quieter, but she kept glancing over to Maggie and smiling. Maggie wanted to pull them both onto her lap and hug them silly. Her heart squeezed. How could their mother not want to know them?

  Once the girls were comfortable in the living room again, Maggie let them choose one of her G-rated movies to put in. Kellen retreated to the office and Maggie started food prep in the kitchen. The occasional giggle from the living room mixed with the sounds of her wooden spoon clanging against metal bowls as she stirred and the praise-and-worship music Kellen must have pulled up on the computer.

  Maggie slipped a pan into the oven and then pressed out the back door. Dropping down on one of the steps, she cradled her head in her hands. She couldn’t take hearing the sounds inside the inn any longer. Not because the girls giggling and Kellen singing along as he worked bothered her—the opposite. It all sounded like home. Like a family relaxing together.

  Like the future she’d never have.

  * * *

  The tinkle of bells as Maggie finished dusting the last public room the next morning let her know that someone had just entered the inn’s front door and was waiting for her downstairs. Looked as though the guests had decided to show up early. Talk about cutting it close.

  She ditched the duster in an upstairs closet and adjusted her shirt and hair in a bathroom mirror before quickly going downstairs. In the lobby, a young woman dressed in jeans, heels and a suit coat waited with a tablet in her hands. Probably selling something.

  Maggie smoothed her shirt. “Hello?”

  The woman wore a too-big smile. “This place is just charming, now, isn’t it?” She stuck out her hand. “Sandra Conner. It’s so wonderful to meet you.”

  There was no Sandra Conner on her guest list.

  Maggie shifted her weight to her other foot. “May I help you?”

  Sandra puckered her lips. “Oh dear. I guess Mr. Ashby didn’t tell you I’d be stopping by. I’m an interior designer. He hired me to give the inn the sprucing up it needs.” Sandra sidestepped Maggie and did a few circles in the lobby. “Good height in here. Nice wood. Yes. I can make this place shine.”

  The sound of a car on Ida’s old rock driveway sent Maggie outside. Sandra could poke around for herself while Maggie dealt with Kellen. She’d watched him load up the girls fifteen minutes ago. He must have dropped Skylar off at school and left Ruthy with Mrs. Rowe again.

  Kellen closed the door on his Subaru and waved at her. “Morning.”

  He’d been so disarming and kind last night, helping with chores and playing the loving father with his girls. And now... Cool down, Maggie. She’d seen the care he used on his two separate trips back to his house last night, cradling each of his sleeping daughters. He was a loving father. He could be that and yet also be callous about the inn, right? They didn’t negate each other.

  Maggie barreled around the fence that separated their yards. “The inn is fine how it is.”

  Kellen pulled back his chin. “Okay?”

  “There’s a woman inside right now who said you’re paying her to change everything.” Maggie thrust her hand in the direction of the inn.

  “Sandra’s here already? That’s great.” Kellen grabbed a leather messenger bag from inside his car and motioned for Maggie to join him as he walked back to the inn.

  She stayed where she was. “Did you hear me? The inn is perfect already.”

  When Ida had suggested turning the West Mansion into a bed-and-breakfast, she allowed Maggie to help decide how much of the old home would remain and how much would be changed in the needed remodeling. For the most part, besides a few rooms being changed into bathrooms so that all guest rooms had private facilities, and then squaring off the private area of the inn, the home had retained much of its old walls and feeling.

  Kellen wouldn’t think to ask her what walls she was okay with taking down or if it bothered her to lose more of the original setup of the home. He could change it all. Make it completely different. She’d endured enough change already. How could Maggie handle any more?

  “It’s not.” Kellen shook his head and pulled some paperwork out of his bag. “I’ve been researching what makes an inn successful and what vacationers look for when they’re booking a bed-and-breakfast.” He tried to hand her the paperwork.

  Maggie dropped her hands, refusing to look at them. “We always have guests. There’s nothing wrong with the West Oaks Inn.” In fact, everything about it was right. Maggie had spent the past five years scrounging through antiques fairs and estate sales in order to decorate the place. Every item was chosen to make the inn feel authentic and homey. She wanted people staying to feel as if they were guests of her great-great-grandparents who’d built the mansion so many years ago.

  He tucked the papers back into his bag and crossed his arms. “Actually there’s a lot wrong. Most places with as many rooms as we have enjoy a higher percentage of return customers
and usually book their rooms to capacity for the five tourist-heavy months of the year. I’ve been over the records Ida kept that I found in the piles of paper in the office, and the West Oaks Inn hasn’t been able to do that. Something has to change.”

  Here it came—he was going to fire her.

  But he just breathed, heavily. Like a horse after a hard run.

  He was going to destroy her ancestral home. She had to do something. She had to fight.

  Maggie paced. “Part of the beauty of Goose Harbor is that we don’t do things in a business-first way. That’s why people want to visit this town. To enjoy a community that isn’t focused on getting ahead and climbing the next ladder.”

  “Yes. But when business isn’t thought of at all, our revenue stream suffers.”

  “Is that all you care about? Money?”

  He made a face as if he’d bitten into something sour. “I’m the last person to want to amass wealth, believe me. But yes, I do want to be able to leave a legacy for my girls. I want to be able to send them to college and pay for their weddings without it being a huge struggle.” His voice rose. Not in a yelling way, but it filled with passion. “I don’t want to keep the inn looking old-fashioned. One of the reasons I left home originally was that I was sick of people telling me how to live my life. Well, I didn’t listen to them then and I’m sure not going to listen to you now.”

  He studied the grass for a moment before making eye contact again. “My research has shown that people don’t want to stay at their grandma’s house—they either want high-end pampering or a place that’s family-friendly. West Oaks isn’t either.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “I can. And I will.” He lowered his voice, stepping closer. “How can I make you see that this is a good idea?”

  “You won’t.” She shook her head. “I’ll never agree with you.”

  He sighed. “I would have liked you on my team, Maggie. But I don’t need you on board with this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a designer to meet with.”