The Dad Next Door. Stephanie Dees

to Red Hill Springs?”

      “My dad died. I got shot.” He shrugged, like that kind of thing happened every day.

      “Were you hurt badly? How long are you in town for? How old is your daughter?” So many questions. He was so much less predictable than she’d thought when she first met him. Those boots didn’t lie.

      “I was shot in the line of duty. I’m a cop, like my dad was. I’ve been here for four months rehabbing my shoulder and will be here at least two more. And Amelia’s twelve.”

      She was quiet for a moment, absorbing all the information. “Does your daughter like it here?”

      Joe grimaced. “I wouldn’t normally lead with this information, but if you’re around town at all, you’ll hear it. Her mother—” He stumbled a little on that word but quickly recovered. “Her mother decided to go into rehab and dropped her off at my mom’s with a note and a backpack. I didn’t know she existed.”

      Dark lashes had dropped over his eyes and she couldn’t see his expression. But the tone of his voice sounded like shame and that wasn’t okay. “Rehab is good, I guess, right?”

      “If that’s where she actually went. I’ve checked all the ones within a few hours’ drive and she isn’t registered at any of them. She made a bad mistake, but I’m not sorry my daughter is with me.” He made a face. “Amelia’s not too happy about it, but that’s another story.”

      Claire didn’t know why she felt such a kinship with this man she didn’t know, but there was something. Maybe it was that he was starting his life over with a daughter and she was starting over, period.

      Maybe.

      She looked at him, considered. And then thought, why not? “There’s a little cabin on the property, on the other side of the pond from here. It’s in pretty bad shape from what I can tell, but if you want to look at it tomorrow, you’re welcome to it.”

      His head snapped up. “How much do you want for rent?”

      “We can talk about the rent after you see it. It’s not much, but it has a pretty view.”

      “I really don’t know how long I’ll be here, but thank you, it’s a kind offer.” He stood. “We should be getting back for dinner. And I forgot to mention my mom also said to tell you to bring your bag and you can sleep in my sister’s room.”

      The thought of not spending the night on the floor in this creepy, silent house was appealing, but she didn’t move. “That’s really not necessary. I don’t want to put your mother out.”

      “You won’t be putting her out, believe me. Plus, she insisted and I’ll get in trouble if you don’t.”

      The thought of this big, muscular man getting in trouble with his mom amused her. “I do appreciate it, but this is going to be my home. I think I better get used to it.”

      In the distance, an animal howled. The haunting sound hung in the air. Claire’s heart began to pound. “What was that?”

      “Sounded like a coyote. They’re opportunistic hunters, but you’re probably fine in here.”

      She couldn’t really see his expression across the room in the candlelight, but he seemed dead serious. Maybe she should go to stay at his mother’s house.

      No. Maybe it was pure stubbornness, but she was staying. “I’ll be fine. Please tell your mom I appreciate the offer and I’ll look forward to meeting her.”

      He looked skeptical but didn’t argue. “If you’re sure.”

      She wasn’t sure at all. “I am.”

      “Okay, then, I’ll see you around.” He swung the screen door open and a few minutes later, all she could see was the taillights of his truck headed away from her house.

      The coyote howled again, and this time he was joined by his friends. She closed the door and locked it. It was going to be a long night.

      * * *

      Joe lifted the cup of coffee and savored a moment of peace before the battle began again. The battle for ground with Amelia, the battle to rehab his shoulder and regain his range of motion. He clenched his fist and uncurled his fingers one at a time.

      In the kitchen, pans clanged, bacon sizzled and Martin, the cook, yelled, “Order up.” His mother bustled behind the counter, a ready smile and a fresh cup of coffee for everyone.

      Behind the silver aviators, he watched his twelve-year-old daughter across the Formica table from him. Her eyes were on her cell phone, thumbs flying. She might as well have been in another state for all the attention she was paying him. “What do you want for breakfast, Amelia?”

      She didn’t look up.

      Lanna, best waitress at the Hilltop, stopped at their table. “Hey, Joe, what’ll it be?”

      They’d been friends since middle school when they used to sneak behind the gym for a smoke. She’d written him letters every single month while he’d been overseas. “I’ll have my usual and Amelia will have blueberry pancakes.”

      Lanna topped off his coffee from the pot on her tray and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Pancakes today. All right, then. Be back in a jiff.”

      Every day Joe insisted that Amelia join him for breakfast before school at his mother’s diner. Every day she refused to eat. Every day he ordered her something different off the menu, figuring eventually he’d order something she wouldn’t be able to refuse.

      “How’s school going? Have you gotten to know any of your teachers?”

      No answer.

      “My favorite teacher was Mr. McAdams. We called him the Mac Attack. He brought doughnuts to our homeroom every Friday.” He looked up as Lanna brought their food and slid it onto the table, along with a warm pitcher of maple syrup.

      “There you go. Y’all holler if you need anything, okay? Bertie said to tell you she put extra blueberries in the pancakes, just for you, Amelia.”

      Amelia still didn’t look up, but he saw her swallow hard. The edges of the pancakes were crisp and buttery, the scent of blueberries and warm maple syrup mingling in the air. It had to be getting to her.

      The chimes at the entrance jingled and Claire Conley came through the door, light brown ponytail swinging. She had jeans and a sweatshirt on, but as she got closer, he saw the edge of a flannel pajama top sticking out from under the sweatshirt. There was a crease in her cheek from a pillow. She obviously needed coffee more than he did. As she caught sight of him, he held a mug up to her, an offering.

      Claire cupped it in both hands and took a long, greedy sip, sighing in appreciation. “Thanks. Obviously, I didn’t think this through. No electricity means no coffee. And I didn’t get to sleep until about four. Crazy coyotes.”

      “Claire Conley, this is my daughter, Amelia.”

      Amelia still didn’t speak, but she did look up to check Claire out.

      Claire smiled at her, seemingly oblivious to the tension between the two of them. “I just came in to pick up some breakfast. I have to get back to the farm. My horse is being trailered in today. Amelia, you’ll have to come and see him.”

      Amelia’s blue eyes widened. “Is she pretty?”

      “Yes, very handsome. His name is Freckles.” Claire dug her cell phone out of her back pocket and showed Amelia a picture.

      “He’s awesome. I want to be a vet one day.”

      Joe looked from Amelia to Claire. Amelia had just said more words in the last sixty seconds than Joe had heard in two weeks. He jumped into the conversation. “I’ll pick you up after school and we’ll go see Claire’s horse, if you want.”

      She shot him a quelling look, grabbed her phone and shrugged into her backpack