Building the Perfect Daddy Read Free

old—but well kept, the lawns tidy, flower beds tended. There were no flowers in Mrs. Schulte’s garden, only a few scraggly bushes and a plastic bucket and shovel likely intended for digging in beach sand rather than potting soil.
    He heard a click behind him—the dead bolt releasing—then the sound of the door opening.
    â€œWhy are you sitting on my porch in the rain?” Lauryn asked wearily.
    He stood up and turned. Though her sweetly curved mouth was unsmiling and her soft gray-green eyes were filled with suspicion, neither detracted from her beauty. But he’d known a lot of beautiful women, and he wasn’t going to be distracted from his task by an unexpected tug of attraction.
    â€œBecause you didn’t invite me to come inside,” he responded.
    â€œAnd I’m not going to,” she said firmly.
    â€œLet’s start at the top again,” he suggested, with a hopeful smile. “My name is Ryder Wallace—I’m the host of WNCC’s home improvement show Ryder to the Rescue .”
    She was unimpressed. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”
    â€œI’m here to discuss the details of the work you want done, and it would be really great if you’d let me come in out of the rain to talk about it.”
    Though she was still frowning, she finally stepped away from the door to allow him entry.
    â€œDo you have any coffee?” he asked hopefully.
    â€œI thought you wanted to talk.”
    He smiled again. “Talking over a cup of coffee in the kitchen is so much friendlier than standing in the foyer.”
    â€œYou’re right,” she said, “but I’m not feeling particularly friendly.”
    The little girl, who had been hiding behind her mother, peeked out at him now. “You can have tea wif me,” she offered.
    Lauryn sighed. “Kylie, what did Mama tell you about strangers?”
    But the little girl shook her head. “He gived me flowers.”
    Ryder looked at the mom for an explanation, but she seemed equally confused by her daughter’s statement.
    â€œAt the weddin’,” Kylie clarified.
    â€œMy sister’s wedding,” he guessed, because it was the only one he’d attended recently.
    Lauryn’s puzzlement gave way to speculation. “Are you telling me that Avery Wallace is your sister?”
    He nodded, confirming his relationship to the obstetrician who had recently married Justin Garrett, another doctor at Charisma’s Mercy Hospital.
    â€œOkay,” she finally—reluctantly—relented. “I guess I can offer you a cup of coffee.”
    â€œWere you at the wedding?” he asked, following mother and daughter through the hallway to the kitchen he recognized from the photos she’d submitted with her application.
    She shook her head. “No. Zachary—” she glanced at the baby in the playpen, playing with colorful plastic rings “—was running a bit of a fever, so we stayed home. Kylie went with my parents. And when you caught the bride’s bouquet—”
    â€œAvery threw it at me,” he felt compelled to point out in his defense. “It was an automatic reflex.”
    She shrugged, as if the details were unimportant, and set a filter into the basket of the coffeemaker on the counter—the only modern appliance visible in the whole room.
    â€œAnd when you caught the bouquet,” she said again, measuring grounds into the filter, “you gave the flowers to Kylie.”
    He looked at the little girl in the frilly nightgown and finally remembered. “You were wearing a dark blue dress?”
    Kylie smiled and nodded.
    â€œThen you must be related to Justin,” he said to Lauryn.
    â€œHe’s my cousin,” she admitted. “Our fathers are brothers.”
    â€œSmall world,” he mused, wondering if the loose familial connection would help or hinder his case.
    â€œSmall