The Fixer-Upper Bride: Country Brides & Cowboy Boots (Cobble Creek Romance Book 2)

by Maria Hoagland

  Today’s tasks, Harper had informed him on their drive to school, would require assembly of some sort. With actual tools. “Paintbrushes don’t count,” she’d insisted when he tried to assert that she’d been using tools. As for the day’s progress on the lamp-clock-mirror, he would get a thorough rundown, in exhaustive detail, by his enthusiastic daughter on their drive back to the bed and breakfast afterward.

  To be honest, Logan had been reluctant to consent to the after-school arrangement. Could he trust the judgment of someone who didn’t question the wanderings of a ten-year-old suspiciously devoid of supervision? What did he know about this woman? Would she be a good influence on his little girl? If it hadn’t been for Lucy’s assurances, he never would have allowed Harper to go back to Frank & Signs the next day, but his receptionist had been convincing. Besides, with Harper’s grandmother no longer taking care of her whenever he was at work, Harper needed a new caretaker, and why not have her next door and doing something she enjoyed?

  With as quickly as Harper had taken to Frankie, his latest concern was if the two would get too close. It would be just his luck if Harper bonded with someone who wouldn’t be in her life in another month. One project wouldn’t be too much of a risk though, would it?

  With Harper starting the fifth grade, she was better equipped to understand who was permanent in her life and who wasn’t. Unlike four years ago when Christina had been taken so abruptly, leaving them alone to figure it all out. That had been hard. As had been all the times Harper latched herself onto a piano teacher or work associate of Logan’s or the babysitter. But that had been a couple of years ago. He was probably safe, albeit gun-shy and cautious.

  The reason for his rationale, if he was being honest with himself, was because he wanted to get to know Frankie better himself. Something about her drew both him and his daughter in. Her playfulness, quick wit, and easy smile made everyone feel comfortable around her. Was it his imagination that she reserved a little something extra for him? Their silly banter, the sparkle in her eyes—every day he wished away the hours until he could pick up Harper so he and Frankie could share more of it.

  Closing the clinic for the day, Logan strolled past the few things Frankie had displayed on the sidewalk—an old door with shelves, a sign with a Maya Angelou quote hanging at the top that read “All great achievements require time,” a stool constructed of a rusty milk can with a metal tractor seat attached—and wondered why he’d been so upset about their presence outside her shop days before. The display was tucked tight to the building under the awning, leaving plenty of room for a person to walk around.

  If things went well, Logan planned to ask Frankie if she wanted to grab a soda or something with him and Harper. Would it be too soon in their friendship to invite her to dinner? Considering he didn’t have access to a kitchen to cook, and he and Harper had to eat … This living in Cobble Creek was looking like a pretty good decision for him and Harper.

  Before he could decide how he should ask Frankie out, Logan was at her door, opening it and listening for the light jingle of the bell. An orange cat—wasn’t it Lumière or something? He couldn’t remember—slipped through the door and was underfoot. Reacting quickly, Logan steadied himself between the doorknob and the doorframe.

  There was that laugh he loved so much, Harper’s childish giggle he wanted to remember forever, followed by Frankie’s happy voice. “I think we need to install a pet door, don’t you think, Harper?”

  Relieved he hadn’t fallen on his backside in front of the person he wanted to impress, Logan walked in with as much dignity as he could scrape together. Nothing like a homeless street cat to humble him.

  “You have it out for me with that cat, don’t you?” He smiled to show he was kidding.

  “I’ve trained him well.” Frankie looked over her drugstore readers at him, a granny look without the gray hair.

  “Do you think he’ll come visit us at the bed and breakfast, Dad?” Harper giggled uncontrollably.

  The two were thick as thieves already. So much for them not getting too close. At first glance, the two of them together with their long, dark brown hair and smattering of freckles, Harper and Frankie could be mother and daughter. The thought scared him. He couldn’t allow Christina to be replaced, but he couldn’t exactly pull Harper away from this arrangement with Frankie—not without some concrete reason, which he didn’t have at the moment. Maybe after the project was done, he could make other childcare arrangements.

  This line of thinking wasn’t helping. There was nothing wrong with Harper having a friend, even a mother figure. He gulped. He couldn’t do that to Christina.

  “Did you finish your project?” While he hoped the answer was yes to put some space between Frankie and Harper, he still wanted a reason to see Frankie himself. Man, he was messed up. A pretty woman hadn’t confused him this much in, well, four years, in fact.

  “We did!” Harper grabbed his hand and dragged him to the workbench as she had frequently over the last few days. He had the feeling she would drag him around forever, and he would like it. “Come see it. It’s amazing! And Frankie let me drill the hole through the glass and everything!”

  Logan cut his eyes toward Frankie. Obviously, she was fluent in reading worried dad looks, because she quickly followed up Harper’s comment with a qualification of her own. “She was wearing goggles and gloves, the glass was taped so it wouldn’t shatter or splinter, and I held the drill with her.” Frankie looked at Harper with a soft smile. “But she pulled the trigger, so it was all her.”

  Every time he was determined to dislike the woman, she did something to win him over again.

  The clock stood next to the red, green, and navy checked overstuffed couch that looked vaguely familiar. Wow, he must have spent more time in this room than he realized. He shook his head and moved his eyes back to the clock.

  “I have to admit, ladies, that is one fabulous clock!” He accepted Harper’s hug, feeling the strength of her confidence and pride in that squeeze. “I know it’s for the art festival, but any chance I could buy it after?” He directed the question to Frankie.

  “I don’t know,” she hedged. “I’ll have to think about it. I mean, I have other buyers who actually appreciate upcycling …”

  “Is that what you call it?” That was a new one to him. “Then why does your sign say antiques?”

  “Because nobody knows what upcycling is.”

  “Exactly.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “How do I know you’re not making this up?”

  “Because it’s a thing. Google it. Watch some HGTV. Live a little.”

  “Hey.” He feigned offense. “Just because I’ve never heard of this upscaling thing—”

  “Upcycling,” she corrected.

  “Upcycling thing, doesn’t mean I don’t live. There’s actually more to life than Frankensteining furniture.”

  Now she put her hands over her heart, pretending to be hurt. They both laughed.

  “So you like it, Daddy?”

  Logan put his hands on his hips, leaning over slightly to look his daughter in the eye. “It is amazing and beautiful and clever—just like you.” He continued his look for a few seconds longer, but Harper interrupted his seriousness.

  “Oh, Dad, you always say that!”

  “That’s because I always mean it.” He stepped over to inspect their contraption. “I really, really, super-de-duper, absatively, posolutely mean it.”

  “I knew you would!”

  Harper practically bounced to the couch to pick up her backpack, and Logan realized now was probably the time to ask Frankie his big question.

  This wasn’t going to be easy. It would be the first time he’d asked anyone out for a first date in a dozen years or so, but there was something about Frankie that compelled him to try. He took a breath of courage. “Frankie, I—”

  “There’s something I wanted to ask—” Frankie said at the same time.

  Hmm … maybe she was going to ask him?

&nbs
p; Of course, he’d be the gentleman. “You first.” He swept his open palm in front of them, offering the floor when he’d been about to offer himself.

  “Are you …” Frankie blushed.

  This is it. Logan couldn’t believe his luck.

  “… seeing anyone?”

  He tried not to look too eager. “No, actually, I’m not.” He swallowed.

  “What would you think of …”

  He wanted to urge her to come out with it, but it was kind of cute how she was stumbling over saying the actual words.

  “I think you should ask Brooke to go out. You’d be great together. What do you think?”

  His throat went dry. How had he completely misunderstood the signals?

  Brooke. Frankie wanted him to go out with her best friend. Maybe he wasn’t ready to date yet.

  Frankie’s hazel eyes pled with him, persuading him into something he had no desire to do. It had to be the freckles across her delicate nose—so much like Harper, who he could never deny. He hoped Frankie never noticed the similarity and use it to her advantage.

  “Harper and I could have a girls’ night, watch the live-action Beauty and the Beast or something …” Frankie turned to Harper, who’d come back to his side before he’d realized it. “Sound good to you?”

  “Yes!” She nodded vigorously and then set puppy-dog eyes on Logan.

  These two. They were too much.

  “I …” He felt like he was drowning. “I’ll think about it.” Disappointment plummeted like a rock into the canyon of his stomach, but he hoped he was convincingly nonchalant. If he could appear that it didn’t matter, maybe she wouldn’t notice he’d been about to ask her out. If she didn’t think of him that way, he shouldn’t either.

  Logan turned to his daughter, passing off his discomfort as concern over Harper’s feelings. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Harper nodded before he could even finish, so he looked at Frankie. Maybe she could see the folly if he explained it fully. “You would be okay with me going on a date that’s not really a date because it’s just one evening and won’t go anywhere?”

  “Well, of course it won’t—not with that attitude, anyway,” Frankie muttered, and Harper laughed.

  “Yeah, Dad, I’m totally okay with it.”

  That wasn’t how either of them was supposed to respond. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

  Nope. Not interested at all.

  Chapter 7

  It had been two weeks of Harper going over to Frank & Signs after school and then afterward, every evening, chattering on at dinner about the projects she and Frankie were doing. Logan felt awful that he hadn’t had more than a few minutes each day to say hi and thank you, but the blessing and the curse of his clinic taking off kept him busier than a squirrel in a walnut orchard, and just as scattered. Add the transition from staying at the Country Quilt Inn to their own place outside of town, and Logan had had no extra time to spend with the pretty work neighbor who preoccupied his thoughts.

  Now there was something else going on through their shared wall: the bass of Frankie’s stereo thumping so loud, he couldn’t hear his patients with their answers to “One or two?”

  “I think we’ve got it, Mr. Decker.” Logan’s throat strained. He’d spoken louder than usual the entire appointment. The elderly man probably couldn’t hear the music. Logan swung the phoropter away from Mr. Decker until it was next to the wall and out of the way. He’d double- and triple-checked the updated prescription for trifocals. “I’ll send Lucy in to finish you up.”

  In truth, Logan was going to step out to have another word with his dear next-door neighbor. For what seemed like hours, he’d been trying to ignore the disruption, but doing so had strung out his nerves until they were ready to snap. If only he’d had more conversations with her, this wouldn’t seem so awkward or petty, but ever since she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in him, he’d dialed back their interaction.

  Logan stalked into the alley and banged out his frustrations on her back door. Between songs, he heard an electric sander whining in the background and doubted his knocks were heard. He was about to give up and go to the front when Frankie finally opened the door.

  “Hey, Logan!” The temporary look of curiosity as she opened the door was replaced by a genuine smile of recognition. Was she happy to see him? A cloud of aerated dust settled around her. “What’s up?” Frankie tugged off her goggles and settled them on top of her head as if they were an accessory.

  Frankie was so genuine and so adorably attractive in her unawareness of herself. That he noticed, and even thought the word “adorable,” irked him even more, but with Harper there, he wasn’t about to yell at Frankie. Instead, he stepped past her and turned off her Bluetooth speaker. The silence was a relief, like setting down that heavy barbell after a good workout, until he noticed Frankie’s questioning look.

  “I can’t hear my patients.”

  “I have as much right to run my business as you do yours, Dr. Jekyll.” She picked up her sander, dismissing him and threatening to turn it back on.

  Maybe he was acting out more of his evil Mr. Hyde side, but he wasn’t going to allow Frankie to convince him he wasn’t in the right. She was being unprofessional.

  “Sorry, Dad.” Harper chewed on her bottom lip. “We were multitasking.” When did she start using that word? “She’s helping me learn this song for the audition, but we couldn’t hear it over the—what did you call it, Frankie?”

  “Sander.”

  It was amazing how much softer Frankie’s voice could be for Harper compared to the icy response he’d earned.

  “We’ll turn it down, Dad.”

  Guilt stabbed through him. His daughter shouldn’t have to smooth things out between them. He’d have to build up a thicker skin so he could be friendlier with Frankie.

  He looked away to collect his control, his focus landing on the desk he’d noticed the previous week. So far, it was the only thing in the store that wasn’t cut apart, repurposed, or distressed. Several quarts of stain in varying shades were lined up on the worktable, the colors dabbed onto a piece of wood, the richness of the subtle differences more pronounced next to each other.

  “Refinishing or upcycling?” He was almost afraid to ask. If this gorgeous piece of furniture was going to be destroyed, he might have to stage an intervention.

  “Refinishing, for sure,” Frankie was quick to answer. “Some things can’t be improved upon.” Her own hand caressed the corner closest to her, and she earned another point in his estimation. “I figured I’d teach Harper the art of restoration.”

  Logan became distracted in studying the patterns of sawdust on Frankie’s cheeks and the way it dusted her dark hair an ashy gray. So this is how she’ll look in thirty years.

  “Frankie’s letting me choose the color. Which do you like, Dad?”

  At his daughter’s question, Logan ripped his attention from Frankie to study the different stain colors for the wood. Any of them would be great for the desk. “Which do you like, Harps?”

  “I was thinking either—” Harper was pointing to one when Logan’s phone rang, and he knew right off by the ringtone who it was.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo, I’ve got to take this.” Logan fished the phone from his pocket and headed for the back door, not wanting Harper to overhear any of the conversation he’d been avoiding since the move.

  “This is Logan,” he said by way of acknowledgment to his former in-laws. He wasn’t about to give them a friendly greeting.

  “Oh, so you haven’t changed your number,” Kathy McAfee snipped. Apparently, she wasn’t offering any niceties either. “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. We need to discuss your long-term plans for Harper.”

  As if the grandmother had any say in the matter.

  “Well, let’s see. I’m thinking she should continue with her education, even after high school graduation, a prestigious career doing whatever it is she’s passionate about …” Right now
that meant upcycling projects with Frankie and musical theater thanks to an upcoming fifth-grade production of Annie Get Your Gun, but he didn’t need to tell Kathy that. “Eventually she’ll run for office and become President of the United States, but only after curing cancer and being the first woman to land on Mars.” He couldn’t think of any more clichéd dreams to add on.

  The satisfaction of knowing his answer would annoy Kathy kept him going through the extended monologue. He leaned against the brick building, allowing the comforting heat to seep into his back.

  “I don’t appreciate the lip, Logan. You obviously don’t appreciate the precarious situation you’re putting yourself in. My daughter never wanted her kids to spend time in day care being raised by strangers. She was very clear on the subject. I am concerned that you’re not taking this seriously—which has me worried you are putting my granddaughter in an unsafe environment. James and I have consulted a family practice lawyer, and we are evaluating our options to sue for Harper’s custody.”

  Logan heard the door to Frank & Signs open beside him, and he glanced over to make sure it wasn’t Harper. When Frankie made to go back inside, he held up a wait-a-minute finger and returned his concentration to the call. It was comforting to have someone with him, even if she didn’t have any idea what was going on.

  “Suing for custody?” He shook his head, exasperated. “You can’t be serious. As the grandparents, you don’t have the right unless you can prove I’m unfit, and I think you’ll have a difficult time doing that.”

  He hadn’t meant to issue a challenge, knowing Kathy wasn’t one to back down. It had served Christina well, but he never wanted to be on the receiving end of that determination.