The Dad Next Door. Stephanie Dees

“I can’t believe you got her to talk. She’s been on a conversation strike.”

      She shrugged and he waved at the bench across from him. “Feel free to eat the pancakes. She didn’t touch them. She’s on an eating strike, too.”

      Sliding onto the red vinyl bench across from him, Claire looked up, startled. “She’s not eating? For how long?”

      “Don’t worry, she eats. Just not with me. She doesn’t trust me and, really, I don’t blame her. She thought I didn’t want anything to do with her for twelve years.”

      Lanna slid a to-go box onto the table in front of Joe. “For the pancakes. Coffee for you, miss?”

      “Claire Conley. It’s nice to meet you. I’d love some coffee, thanks.”

      “Claire...got it. I’m Lanna.” The light dawned in Lanna’s eyes as she poured a mug for Claire and placed some cream on the table. “You’re the mayor’s daughter. No one even knew the mayor had a daughter. Everyone’s talking about it. Need anything else, just yell.”

      “It was a closed adoption, so I didn’t know the mayor was my father, either, until recently. I guess my arrival will be fueling the town gossip for a while.” Claire’s eyes sparkled with amusement as Lanna hustled back to the kitchen.

      “No worries. Pretty sure Amelia and I still occupy the top spot.” Joe cleared his throat. “So, the coyotes kept you awake?”

      “I didn’t even know coyotes were a thing, but I looked it up on the internet on my phone. There are hordes of them.” She shuddered. “But they’re afraid of donkeys, so guess who will be getting a couple as soon as the funds allow?” Claire grinned and shoved a huge bite of blueberry pancakes into her mouth.

      “I’m guessing that would be you.”

      “These are so good.” She took another big bite out of the pancakes and picked up her mug. “Okay, so when you come out to the farm to look at the cabin later on, bring Amelia to see Freckles. He really is good with kids.”

      “Believe it or not, that exit this morning was progress. The first week, she wasn’t nearly as friendly and affectionate.”

      She laughed and almost choked on her coffee. “I know you probably keep hearing this, but give it some time, you’re doing fine.”

      Joe narrowed his eyes at her. “And you know this because you have a bunch of teenage daughters who hate you, so you’ve been through the process?”

      Claire laughed again, her lake-blue eyes wide-open now. “Something like that. I’m a social worker. I had a bunch of teenagers in my caseload who hated my guts and a few younger kids who could give them a run for their money. I loved the feeling when they eventually learned they could trust me. And you will, too, once you get past this stage.”

      “How exactly do I do that?”

      “By doing what you’re doing. Don’t let her get away with not sitting at the table or joining in family outings. The daily breakfasts are good. Eventually, she’ll get the idea that you’re sticking.”

      He studied her face as she talked—animated, alive—and comprehension dawned. He had enough instincts and experience to see trouble brewing. “So when you say you’re ‘kind of’ opening a bed-and-breakfast, what you really mean is you’re turning your inheritance into a foster home, where kids will have a bed and eat breakfast.”

      She had the grace to blush. “Yes, something like that.”

      “Were you trying to hide the truth?” He wasn’t opposed to giving her the benefit of the doubt, but this new friendship might be short-lived if she had a habit of lying.

      “No! Really, I wasn’t. You assumed bed-and-breakfast and I didn’t correct you. I never intended to keep it a secret.”

      “A foster home is going to raise some eyebrows in this town.” Not that he cared. He wasn’t planning to be here long enough to witness the fallout.

      Claire frowned. “Why? My sister, Jordan, and I were in foster care for a while after the first couple who intended to adopt us changed their mind. Foster kids aren’t delinquents, they just aren’t able to live at home for some reason.”

      “That may be true, but it’s not people’s perception. Red Hill Springs is a friendly little town, but people are set in their ways.”

      She stared at him, unflinching. Then grinned again. “Then I’ll just have to change their mind.” She leaned over the plate and took another big bite of pancakes as she slid out of the booth. “Gotta run. I have to make sure the fence line will keep my horse in.”

      Claire walked up to the register, where she chatted with his mom for a few minutes. She stopped back by the table to say, “Don’t forget to bring Amelia out this afternoon. We can talk about rent then, if you like the cabin.”

      His eyebrows drew together. “I still don’t get it. You don’t even know me. And I definitely don’t know you.”

      “Maybe I have a soft spot for a daughter who never knew her dad.” She tossed the words over her shoulder as she swung the front door open. “Plus, you’re armed and I don’t have a donkey yet.”

      Bertie slid a to-go cup of coffee in front of him as the door swung shut behind Claire. “She’s cute and she seems nice.”

      His eyes were on Claire as she walked toward her car. “Yeah, maybe.”

      “Hopefully, Amelia will eat with you tomorrow.” His mom smiled as she reached for the dirty dishes on the table.

      He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Who knows?”

      “Well, don’t give up, bud. She reminds me of someone else I knew once who was pretty bullheaded. Besides, you need her.”

      It wasn’t until he was on the street walking back to his mom’s house that he realized his mom had said you need her. That was ridiculous. Daughters needed a father, not the other way around.

      But there was something there, some restlessness inside that he couldn’t identify. His mom had said God was preparing him for something big. Something risky.

      Like moving-across-the-country-to-start-a-foster-home risky?

      He curled his fingers into a fist and stretched them out one by one, refusing to wince at the pain that shot up his arm. Sometimes just getting through every day seemed like a risk.

       Chapter Three

      Claire shoved the pole into the slot on the fence, tested the fit and fell against it, trying to catch her breath. She dusted the gloves on her pants and pulled them off, stretching her fingers. Her whole body ached. She hadn’t expected to have to rebuild the whole corral when she arranged for Freckles to be trailered in today.

      A honking horn caught her attention. She smiled, something easing in her chest as her twin sister, Jordan, pulled into the lane in her truck.

      Jordan shoved the gear into Park and jumped down, enveloping her in a huge bear hug. “Wow! It’s been too long.”

      “Hasn’t even been a week yet.”

      Jordan’s reddish-blond hair was twisted into two short braids and she was dressed, as usual, in boots, jeans and a flannel shirt. They were fraternal twins, but people had a hard time even believing they were sisters. She shrugged. “I’m not the only one who thinks so. Freckles went into a depression after you left.”

      Claire lifted the latch on the trailer gate, lowering it gently to the ground so as not to spook her horse inside. Freckles turned his head and sniffed, one big brown eye catching sight of her. He snorted.

      She laughed as she climbed in and patted his rump. “I get it. You’re mad at me now, buddy, but come January, when you’re not trying