Building The Perfect Daddy. Brenda Harlen

and began his ascent.

      It was a fairly typical attic—with a wide-planked floor over the joists of the ceiling below so that he didn’t have to worry about where he stepped. A tiny window at each end illuminated dust and cobwebs along with various boxes and some old furniture. He lifted the beam of light to the ceiling and noted the distinct wet patches that showed him where the rain was coming in.

      He walked back to the access and called down to Lauryn. “Can you get me some old towels and buckets?”

      “I only have one bucket,” she told him.

      “Wastebaskets or big pasta pots would work.”

      She nodded and disappeared to gather the required items while he continued his inspection of the attic ceiling.

      “Why’s it wainin’ in the castle?”

      The little voice, so unexpected and close behind him, made Ryder start.

      “How did you get up here?” he demanded.

      “I comed up the ladder,” Kylie told him.

      “I’m not sure your mom would want you climbing up ladders when she’s not around.”

      “Why’s it wainin’ in the castle?” she asked again, a little impatiently this time.

      “There’s a hole in the roof,” he explained, shining the light to show her where the water was coming in. “Actually, a few holes.”

      “You fix it?”

      “Yeah, I can fix it,” he said, and was rewarded with a smile that lit up the dim space and tugged at his heart.

      “Kylie?” her mother shouted out from below, her voice panicky. “Kylie—where are you?”

      “She’s with me,” Ryder called down, taking the little girl’s hand to lead her back to the stairs.

      Though Kylie had bravely made the climb up, the sudden death grip on his hand as they approached the opening warned him that she wasn’t so keen about going down again.

      “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked her.

      Eyes wide, she nodded quickly.

      Her arms immediately went around his neck when he scooped her up. And in that moment, that quickly, he fell for this brave and terrified little girl who so openly and willingly placed her trust in him.

      Lauryn was reaching for her daughter even before he hit the last step, simultaneously hugging her tight and chastising her for disappearing. Ryder left her to that task while he picked up the items she’d gathered and returned to the attic.

      It didn’t take him long to direct the water from the various points of origin into the bucket and pots she’d supplied. Of course, that would only contain the rain, not stop it from coming in, but it was the best he could do for now.

      When he came back downstairs, the baby had fallen asleep in his crib, Kylie was dressed and Lauryn was tying a ribbon in her daughter’s hair. The puddles in the little girl’s room had been mopped up, and plastic bowls put in place to capture any more water that leaked through.

      Ryder took a moment to look around the room and appreciate the detailed painting on the walls that he’d barely noticed earlier. “Did you do this?”

      Lauryn shook her head. “My sister did.”

      “It’s incredible,” he said.

      “Jordyn is incredibly talented.” She looked worriedly at the ceiling, where a dragon flew in the sky above the castle walls.

      “It won’t take much to touch up after the roof is fixed.”

      She nodded, though she didn’t look reassured.

      In fact, she looked as if she had the weight of the enormous dragon—and entire fairy-tale kingdom—resting on her narrow shoulders.

      Damn, but he’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress. And this damsel had a lot more distress than she seemed to be able to handle right now.

      “In the interim, I could put tarps up on the roof to give you some extra protection,” he offered.

      But she squared her shoulders and turned to face him. “You’ve done enough already, thanks. And now, I really need you to go so that I can run my errands.”

      “Do you want me to recommend a good roofer?”

      “No, thanks,” she said. “I’ve got someone who came out once before.”

      “If your roof is still leaking, maybe you need somebody different,” he suggested.

      Her cheeks flushed. “He warned me that I would need to redo the whole roof.”

      “When was that?”

      “April,” she admitted.

      “You were told, five months ago, that you needed a new roof, and you haven’t done anything about it?” he asked incredulously.

      She lifted her chin. “Not that I owe you any explanations, but I’ve been kind of busy trying to take care of my two kids and run the business that my husband walked away from.”

      “I wasn’t implying that you should have climbed up onto the roof to strip and reapply shingles yourself, just that you should have scheduled the work to be done.”

      “And I would have,” she said. “But in my experience, most people generally want to be paid for the work that they do.”

      And that was when he realized she hadn’t been neglectful—she couldn’t afford a new roof. Obviously, he didn’t have any details about her financial situation, but he suspected that she’d just given him the leverage he needed to secure her cooperation for the show.

      “That’s usually the way those things work,” he acknowledged. “But, sometimes, other arrangements can be made.”

      She narrowed her gaze. “I really think you should go now.”

      He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I wasn’t suggesting anything inappropriate,” he assured her. “It seems apparent that, as much as you’d like a new kitchen, there are other issues that require more immediate attention.”

      “Your observational skills must be why your name is in the title of the show,” she remarked dryly.

      “And I know you’re reluctant to participate in the show—”

      “I’m not reluctant,” she denied. “I’m refusing.”

      “But why?”

      “Because this isn’t a television studio, it’s my home,” she told him. “Maybe there are some things that I’d like to change and other things that need to be changed—like the roof—but I have no desire to open up the doors and let your camera crews dissect my personal space for your television viewers.”

      “You’d get a brand-new kitchen,” he reminded her.

      She shook her head stubbornly. “I don’t need a new kitchen that desperately.”

      “But you do need a new roof—and I can get you that, too. In fact, we can specify whatever home improvements you want in the contract.”

      For the first time, he saw a hint of interest in her gray-green eyes. “You can really get my roof fixed?”

      “Yes, I can,” he assured her.

      “What will it cost me?”

      “Not a dime. We have a generous budget, as well as numerous sponsors and endorsement deals that will cover everything. If,” he said, clearly emphasizing the word, “you agree to appear on the show.”

      He could see her weighing the pros and cons in her mind. In the end, practicality triumphed.

      “When can you start?”