Darcy and the Single Dad

by Stacy Connelly

  If Maddie needed a mother, then he needed a wife. Because God help him, he couldn’t figure out how to get one without the other.

  * * *

  The dog hadn’t moved.

  Crouched down at the back stairs, Darcy Dawson squinted toward the far side of the crawl space beneath the porch. Every now and then, in the flashes of lightning that lit the darkness, she could see the reflection from the dog’s eyes, her only indication the animal was still there. Worry trickled through her, and she shivered, pulling up the collar of her coat closer around her ears.

  She’d tried using the lure of the kibble, but the dog refused to come out of hiding. Refused, too, to eat from the bowl Darcy had shoved as far as she dared in the cramped space. She might have blamed fear of the storm for the dog’s behavior except it had holed up before the lightning and rain had begun.

  Even though Darcy didn’t know anything about dogs, she knew something was wrong. But she didn’t know what it was or what she could do to offer any comfort.

  Helplessness rose up inside her. “It’s just a dog,” she muttered against the lump in her throat. “You don’t even like dogs.”

  The words echoing through her thoughts for the past half hour were a lie, and saying them out loud didn’t help convince Darcy they were true. She didn’t dislike dogs, but she was afraid of them. Had been since she’d been bitten by a neighbor’s dog when she was little.

  Her fingers slipped past the collar of her sweater and she traced the scars along her shoulder, reminders from that long-ago day. As a kid, she’d shied away from dogs, and as an adult living in an apartment in Portland, she hadn’t been around them much. She simply didn’t go places where dogs were likely to be, and if she saw one in passing... Well, she just passed quickly.

  But her move to the small town of Clearville, California, was supposed to be about making a new start and living in the moment. So when a stray dog wandered into her backyard after she’d left open the gate, she decided that maybe it was time to put her fear of dogs in the past, as well. Not that she planned to keep the dog; she wasn’t that certain of her ability to let go of a twenty-year-old phobia, but something in the animal’s crouched, uncertain posture spoke to her.

  And, she had to admit, the dog was...interesting. A mix of silver and black from its alert ears down to its tail with brown and white spots on its face and legs. And its eyes—one brown and one blue—fascinated Darcy with their watchful intelligence. Of course, she’d only noticed thanks to the zoom feature on her digital camera. She hadn’t actually gotten near enough to see the dog’s two-toned eyes up close.

  But she printed the pictures she’d taken, placing “Found Dog” posters around town. She’d also bought a bag of dog food and some toys at the grocery store and folded up an old comforter for a bed in the sheltered corner of the porch. None of which nominated her for Pet Parent of the Year, but just knowing the dog was in her backyard pushed Darcy out of her comfort zone.

  Still, she’d been certain, in a town the size of Clearville, the owner would come forward in no time. Or that someone would recognize such a unique dog and know who it belonged to. She’d even imagined the scene—reuniting the poor lost dog with its grateful, tearful owners. Darcy would wave off their praise and offer of a reward, content to see owner and pet back together again.

  But after a week, no one had called, and Darcy had started to wonder what she would do if the dog’s owner never showed.

  Sometimes facing your fears is the only way to escape them. Her mother’s encouragement rang in her head, strong and sure.

  But then her mother had always been brave.

  The ache wasn’t as sharp as it had been following her mother’s death a year ago, but time had done little to lessen Darcy’s sense of loss. She blinked back tears. Her voice was rough around the lump in her throat as she whispered, “You always did say we should get a dog.”

  Alanna had raised Darcy to be confident, strong, proud. Lessons Darcy tried to live by, but ones she’d failed recently. She’d been devastated by her mother’s death. Feeling so alone, she’d reached out blindly to grab hold of the first lifeline she could find. But Aaron Utley hadn’t helped her out of her misery as much as he’d taken advantage of it.

  It was the only explanation Darcy had for falling so hard and so fast.

  He’d seemed so charming and caring, Darcy somehow missed when that care transformed into control as he tried to mold her into the perfect accessory for an up-and-coming lawyer.

  And she’d foolishly gone along. Hoping to ease the ache of sorrow and emptiness, she had convinced herself she was in love. For months, she poured her heart and soul into trying to be the perfect girlfriend and then the perfect fiancée. Only after gaining distance from Aaron had Darcy realized how fully he’d manipulated her. How he’d used her as his emotional punching bag, constantly setting her up simply to knock her down.

  Thank God she’d gotten out before trying to be the perfect wife! She didn’t need anyone to tell her what a failure she would have been as Mrs. Aaron Utley.

  But the anger following their breakup had been the kick in the butt Darcy needed to put aside her sorrow and recall the wonderful times she’d had with her mother. It had always been just the two of them, and they’d shared everything. Including her mother’s dream of moving back to the tiny Northern California town where she’d been raised and opening a small beauty boutique on Main Street.

  Alanna wanted to take the knowledge she’d gained from her years managing a dozen different locations of a major department store chain and focus it on her own business. Moving then opening the shop had always been planned for a distant “someday,” but her death had taught Darcy to take advantage of today, and she was determined to make her mother’s dream a reality.

  She refused to consider what she would do if she failed, so she’d handled it all—moving to a town where she didn’t know a soul, renting a century-old house in need of serious updating and planning a grand opening for a new business at a time when many shops were closing. If she had any doubts, any worries, she’d keep them hidden behind a confident facade where no one would see.

  Fake it ’til you make it, her mother would say.

  The wind shifted again, sending rain pelting against her back and running in icy rivulets down the collar of her coat. Another spark of lightning briefly illuminated the sky, but it was long enough for Darcy to see the dog lying on its side, its watchful gaze still focused on her.

  “And we are going to make it,” she said as another clap of thunder rattled the house. “The vet’s coming, and he’ll make everything okay.”

  After the agonizing days she’d spent in the hospital at her mother’s side, Darcy was painfully aware sometimes even the best doctors couldn’t help. But what she knew in her head didn’t change what she felt in her heart. She may have only met Nick Pirelli in passing, but the vet exuded confidence and control Darcy envied. He wouldn’t be stuck in the rain at a loss, not knowing what to do or what to say. He was the type to push those kinds of people aside and take over and do what needed to be done.

  A low rumble sounded from the front of the house. At first, Darcy thought it was another distant roll of thunder until she heard a vehicle door slam. “He’s here,” she whispered to the dog. “He’ll make everything all right.”

  Pushing up from the muddy ground, Darcy felt her heart pound in her chest as she lowered her head against the rain and ducked beneath the shelter of the wide eaves on her Craftsman-style house. She was worried about the dog, afraid Nick Pirelli might confirm her fears that the animal was sick. It was enough to make any compassionate person’s pulse quicken, knees weaken, breath catch.

  Who was she trying to kid? She’d felt that same quickening, weakening, catching sensation when she had first laid eyes on Nick Pirelli in the town’s grocery.

  He was tall, over six feet, with intense, solemn brown eyes and dark, thick hair. Darcy could tell in that first glance that Nick Pirelli wasn’t a man given to
spending much time on his appearance, and why should he when he was as close to masculine perfection as she’d seen? But she could also tell that what time he did spend in front of the mirror was used to try to tame the hint of natural wave in his mahogany hair into some kind of order.

  Darcy didn’t know why that had struck her as so endearing, but coupled with the collection of pink and purple head bands he’d been holding, she’d been utterly charmed.

  Not that he’d felt the same if his sudden one-eighty and quick disappearance from the aisle where she’d been shopping was anything to go by.

  Skirting beneath the dripping eaves as she rounded the front of the house, Darcy ignored the sharp prick of hurt now just as she had then. It didn’t matter if Nick Pirelli had listened to all the rumors around town about her or what the too-serious vet thought. He was here to help, to do his job. The only opinion she cared about was a professional one.

  But seeing Nick standing on her porch in a beat-up pair of jeans topped by a red and black checked flannel shirt—looking so strong, so sure, so hands-on—Darcy couldn’t deny the rush of attraction. One she was determined to ignore. If Nick Pirelli was the type of man to judge her based on a bunch of lies, then she could only imagine what he’d think of her if he knew the truth.

  Chapter Two

  As Nick lifted his hand to ring Darcy’s doorbell, he heard footsteps on the porch behind him. He turned in time to see her rush up the steps toward him. Her dark red hair was caught up in a damp ponytail, and her jacket and jeans were wet. She stopped short, mere inches away, and her feet nearly slipped out from beneath her. Pure reflex had him reaching out to catch her.

  And it was reflex that had his hands bracketing her narrow waist, reflex that had him ducking his head to inhale her summery scent, mixed with rain from the storm. Reflex that had him hungering to kiss her, to slide his palms down to her hips, to...

  Stay far, far away.

  That had been his goal when he’d driven up to her small Craftsman-style cottage at the end of the street. He would be professional and polite—or as polite as he could manage—do his job and get out of there before—before any of this could happen.

  Jerking away his hands before he could get burned, he stiffly asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Fine. Thanks.” The short, choppy response wasn’t what he expected. It was almost as if Darcy had been just as affected by the unexpected contact as he had been.

  Straightening, she stepped back and wiped her face. Her hair and cheeks were wet from the storm, and her efforts left a streak of mascara beneath one eye. He couldn’t imagine why the sight made her seem somehow vulnerable or why it tugged at something inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

  “Sorry. I don’t normally fall over people like this,” she said with a wry enough smile to make Nick wonder if she’d heard the gossip in town. Gossip that said falling all over men was exactly what she normally did.

  Shoving aside thoughts of the rumors, he focused on his reasons for being out in the middle of a storm instead of at home with baseball on the TV and a beer in his hand. “My assistant said you have some kind of emergency.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as skeptical to Darcy as it did to him, and figured he must have done a passable job at hiding his doubt when she nodded quickly.

  “Yes, and thank you so much—”

  “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “Just doing my job.”

  “Right. Of course. This way.”

  After bending down to grab the well-worn, brown leather bag he’d dropped when Darcy had appeared out of nowhere and stumbled into his arms, Nick followed her around to the back of the house. She must have come from that direction, and yet he was a little surprised. Somehow he’d expected her to lead him inside.

  Not that he was looking for an invitation. He was just— He didn’t know what he was right then.

  And his confusion only increased when Darcy knelt down before her back porch. The rain had turned the area to mud, and now that he wasn’t so distracted, in the glow coming through the windows he could see reddish-brown mud caked the boots she wore and rimmed the hem of her jeans. She wore a fitted, thigh-length jacket in a rich taupe color, but her choice had little to do with fashion. Whatever was going on, Darcy had been outside in the storm for a while.

  “...I can’t coax her out and she’s not eating,” Darcy was saying. “I didn’t know what to do.”

  Squatting down on his heels, Nick got his first look at the she in question. A medium-sized dog lay huddled beneath the porch. “How long has she been like this?”

  “Since I came home this afternoon.” Darcy crouched down beside him to peer at the dog. The animal had crawled through a hole in the rickety latticework framing the fascia of the porch. A small hole. Small enough that the two of them were nearly cheek to cheek gazing into it.

  Focusing on work instead of giving in to the need to study Darcy’s elegant profile, the arch of her forehead, the straight slope of her nose, the tempting curve of her lips, Nick asked, “Has she been out of the yard at all?” An injury might explain the dog’s instinctual need to hide. “Or is there anything she could have gotten into back here? Pesticides? That kind of thing?”

  “No, nothing. But— You think it’s something serious then?”

  The worry in her voice called to Nick. He turned toward the sound, forgetting how close she was. Close enough for him to be in danger of falling into the endless green of her eyes. Close enough to be a breath away from feeling her pale pink lips against his....

  “I, um—” Nick cleared his throat against the sudden lump of lust lodged there. “I can’t tell from here.”

  He’d learned his lesson when it came to making promises he couldn’t keep, but he found himself longing to ease the frown between Darcy’s auburn eyebrows.

  It’s going to be okay. Everything will work out for the best. You’ll see.

  Those were the vows he’d made to Carol years ago, and he’d failed miserably on all accounts. Nick had never been a man to say he hadn’t made mistakes, but he damned sure didn’t repeat them.

  “Do you have a flashlight?” He needed to try to assess any injuries before moving the dog.

  It hadn’t been his intention, but somehow his words managed to wring a small smile from Darcy. “Living in this house? I have a flashlight in every room.”

  He’d heard about the troubles she’d had with the house—faulty electricity, leaky plumbing—typical complaints with a house built at the start of the last century. But it wasn’t Darcy’s wires or pipes people in town were talking about after she went out with part-time handyman, full-time ladies’ man Travis Parker.

  No one was surprised when the relationship ended quickly. Travis Parker was known for chasing after a woman only to cut her loose once she was caught. But it was Darcy who kept the rumor mill churning as she seemed willing to give Travis a run for his money as the local heartbreaker, rebounding by going out with two or three other available guys in Clearville.

  Not that it was any of his business. Not any of his business at all.

  “I’ll need a blanket, too,” he said abruptly, turning back to the dog and away from Darcy’s smile.

  He felt the question in her glance as she slowly rose to her feet, but he refused to look her way. He didn’t care who Darcy Dawson dated, he told himself as she quickly hurried up the back porch stairs. Her footsteps were light and quick on the creaky porch floorboards, and he wondered how she did that. How she could make something as simple as walking seem like a graceful, rhythmic dance.

  Reaching out, Nick grabbed the lattice work with both hands and tugged hard enough to break free more of the weathered wood from the rusty nail heads. The masculine show of force did little to lessen the irritation building inside him. The last thing he needed was to wind up on Darcy Dawson’s To Do list. And yeah, okay, the trip wasn’t a total goose chase. Darcy really was worried about the dog.

  But she’d also really had problems with her wiri
ng and plumbing. That was how things started. Where they ended— Well, Nick didn’t let himself think about that. He’d probably tear down the whole porch with his bare hands if he spent too much time imagining Darcy in the arms of those other men.

  He needed to concentrate on the job at hand, and after he’d done what he could to help the dog, he’d turn his attention back to his plan for the future. Finding the right kind of woman.

  A woman who was responsible and down-to-earth. A woman who walked with her feet firmly on the ground. If she was pretty, he’d consider it a bonus, but certainly not a requirement, Nick decided. He’d allowed his hormones to overrule his head before and, except for Maddie, the results had been disastrous. He didn’t need to feel that skip in his heartbeat, that quickening of his pulse, the low throb of desire that hummed beneath the mundane sounds of everyday life.

  He knew what he wanted and—

  “I’ve got it.”

  Darcy’s husky voice broke into his thoughts, and Nick could only stare at her. She stood beneath the porch light, so he could see her more clearly now. Even with her thick hair pulled back into a damp ponytail and her makeup mostly washed away by the rain, she was beautiful. Tall and graceful, she definitely had it. She was— She was everything he did not want in a mother for his child. Everything he didn’t want in a wife.

  “The flashlight and blanket?” she said, lifting the objects in her arms, her voice hesitant when his silence went on too long.

  “Right,” he said abruptly. “That’s—what I need.”

  He reached out for the items, careful not to brush his hands against any part of Darcy. Grateful to escape, even though it meant crawling into a muddy hole, Nick ducked beneath the porch and through the space he’d made larger. He half crawled, half slid across the muddy ground.