Building The Perfect Daddy. Brenda Harlen

your way to help me out—which I do appreciate.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      She started toward the door again, then hesitated. “Are you one of those people who drinks coffee all day?”

      He smiled. “Is that a roundabout way of offering me a cup?”

      She shrugged. “It seems the least I can do—if you’re interested.”

      Yeah, he was interested, and apparently in more than just the hot beverage she was offering. The tug of attraction he felt for the home owner was more than a little disconcerting because, aside from the fact that single mothers weren’t his type, Ryder had a very strict rule against mixing business with pleasure. If he was smart, he’d say, Thanks, but no thanks, climb into his truck and head home. Maybe he’d even return Holly’s call and accept her offer of dinner—and dessert. His occasional friend-with-benefits was fun and single and, most importantly, she’d never asked for anything more than he was willing to give. Yes, he should definitely call Holly back.

      “Coffee would be great,” he said instead.

      Lauryn led him into the house. After setting Zachary in his playpen, she started the coffee brewing.

      “I wanna dwink, too,” Kylie said, retrieving a juice box from the fridge.

      “Okay,” Lauryn agreed, unwrapping the straw and inserting it into the top of the box.

      The little girl took a sip, then set it aside. “Cookie?”

      This time her mother shook her head. “You already had cookies at Grandma’s.”

      So Kylie turned her attention to Ryder. “Cookie?” she asked hopefully, adding a smile for good measure.

      He chuckled. “Sorry—I don’t have any cookies.”

      The little girl pouted.

      “Your coloring book and crayons are still on the table in the living room,” Lauryn told her daughter.

      With an exaggerated sigh, Kylie turned toward the living room.

      “You’re going to have your hands full with that one,” Ryder said to Lauryn.

      “They’re full enough already,” she admitted, setting a mug of coffee and the sugar in front of him.

      “How old is she?”

      “Three and a half.”

      “And the little guy?” he asked, glancing at the playpen where the baby had managed to pull himself to his feet and was gnawing on the frame.

      Lauryn’s gaze followed his as she sat down across from him with her own mug. “Seven months and—as you can see—teething.”

      He frowned. “Didn’t you say your husband left nine months ago?”

      “I did,” she confirmed.

      “It must have been hard on you—having the baby without him,” he noted.

      She shrugged. “My sister Tristyn was there.”

      “The one who forged your signature on the application?”

      “I thought we were going to pretend I didn’t tell you that.”

      “We were,” he acknowledged. “But then I thought that we might be able to use your sisters in the introductory segment—put them in front of the cameras and let them explain why they wanted this renovation for you.”

      “They’d probably love that,” she said. “But Tristyn’s job requires her to travel a lot, so it would depend on when you planned to film the segment.”

      “Monday,” he told her.

      “Monday—as in five days from now?”

      “Is that a problem?”

      “No,” she admitted. “I mean—I’m still not entirely comfortable with this, but I guess Monday is as good a day as any to begin.”

      “Do you think your sisters can be here?” he asked.

      She shrugged again. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, they owe me—even if they don’t know it yet.”

      “Hopefully, by the time we’re done, you’ll be thanking rather than blaming them,” he told her.

      “Hopefully,” she agreed, then sighed when she saw Kylie slip back into the room and open a cupboard beside the fridge. “No more cookies.”

      “But I’m hungwy.”

      Lauryn stood up and moved to the stove, twisting a knob to turn it on. “Dinner won’t be too long,” she promised.

      She took a yogurt tube out of the fridge and snipped off the top.

      “Is Mister Wyder gonna have dinner wif us?” Kylie asked, taking the tube from her.

      “Oh. Um.” She felt her cheeks flush as she delicately tried to wiggle out of the awkward position her daughter had put her in. “I’m sure Ryder already has plans for dinner.”

      Kylie turned to him. “Do you?”

      “Actually, I don’t have plans,” he told her.

      “You have dinner wif us?” she asked again.

      His gaze shifted from the little girl to her mother. “What are you cooking?”

      “Meat loaf,” she told him, taking the already prepared pan from the refrigerator and sliding it into the oven. “With a side of mac and cheese and salad.”

      She hadn’t planned on adding macaroni and cheese to the meal, but she wasn’t sure that the meat loaf and salad would stretch far enough to feed all of them if he decided to stay.

      “Sounds good,” he decided.

      She eyed him skeptically. “Really?”

      He smiled, and she felt an unexpected warmth spread through her veins. “Well, it sounds a lot better than the pizza I probably would have ordered at home.”

      “I like pizza,” Kylie told him.

      “So do I,” he admitted. “But it gets kind of monotonous when you eat it four or five times a week.”

      “What’s mon-tin-us?”

      “Monotonous,” he said again, enunciating clearly. “And it means boring.”

      Lauryn took a pot out of the cupboard and filled it with water, then set it on the stove to boil.

      Although she would have been able to get two meals out of the meat loaf if she was only feeding herself and the kids, she was glad he was staying. She’d had a really crappy day and while she certainly wouldn’t have sought out any company, she was grateful for the distraction. Because as long as Ryder was there, she didn’t have to think about how spectacularly she’d screwed up her life or try to figure out how she was supposed to put all of the broken pieces back together again. As an added bonus, he was great with her kids—and, she admitted to herself, really nice to look at.

      “Can I help with anything?” Ryder offered.

      She shook her head. “The salad is in the fridge, the meat loaf is in the oven, and the mac and cheese will only take ten minutes after the water boils. But if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m just going to run upstairs to change into something more forgiving of sticky fingers.”

      Ryder nodded.

      She was gone less than three minutes, exchanging her dry-clean-only business attire for a comfortable pair of faded jeans and a peasant-style blouse. When she returned to the kitchen, he was refilling his mug of coffee from the pot.

      She picked up her own abandoned cup and sat down across from him.

      Ryder ran his fingers over the surface of the table. He had really