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Daddy's Home
Pamela Bauer
FAMILY MANLOCAL MAN IS HEROThirty-five-year-old Tyler Brant saved the life of popular TV personality Kristen Kellar when the small plane they were traveling in crashed into the St. Louis River near Hibbing, Minnesota.Brant–single father of a six-year-old daughter–was not available for comment.Tyler Brant has no intention of speaking to reporters. And while he's happy that Kristen Kellar is recovering, he wishes she wouldn't keep telling people he's a hero. All he wants is to put the crash behind him, get on with his life, spend more time with his daughter.Still, he can't forget the beautiful woman he'd carried from the wreck. Unfortunately, Kristen's big news–and Tyler has reason to stay away. But he hadn't counted on Kristen's determination to thank him in person. And he hadn't counted on his little girl's growing attachment to her.He certainly hadn't counted on falling in love….
“You’re a hero, Daddy.” (#u9baede90-9c6d-5428-8c5c-5dc042f91218)ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#uf80ae902-9759-53be-97e1-fb448029341c)Title Page (#u4458992d-eed5-534d-998e-ca69a99d5ca9)Dedication (#ue4ae8eca-c4ff-5c72-a84c-f54a8d40d387)CHAPTER ONE (#u96e5fe0b-0b4b-5788-95bc-4a63d71a4353)CHAPTER TWO (#u34d0c10f-d8e7-549c-b5a3-32276823f253)CHAPTER THREE (#u2a4453c6-52a2-5153-ad93-5cac017954f8)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“You’re a hero, Daddy.”
Brittany held out a newspaper clipping. “This is what I brought for Show and Tell.”
Tyler frowned. In his daughter’s hands was a story of the airplane crash. The headline read: Local Man Is Hero.
“My teacher says you were very brave—the way you saved that lady” The child gazed up at him.
He shifted uneasily on the sofa “I’m not a hero, and the newspapers shouldn’t have said I was.”
Brittany’s face fell. “But my teacher said—”
“And your teacher’s right,” Tyler’s mother interjected.
“You father’s just being modest. He most certainly is a hero. Anybody who saves another person’s life is a hero.”
Brittany moved over to stand in front of Tyler. “Are you mad at me for bringing the newspaper to school?”
He gave her a squeeze. “No, sweetheart, I’m not mad. It was very nice of you to bring me for Show and Tell.” He gave her an extra hug. “I love you, Brittany.”
“I love you too, Daddy. And you are too a hero.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
You need two things if you’re going to survive winter in the Midwest—warm clothes and a sense of humor. Pamela Bauer possesses both. Thai’s why she often uses Minnesota as the setting for her romance novels. She believes there’s something special about this land of 10,000 lakes that makes it the perfect setting for stories about love and family. it also happens to be the place where she fell in love with her own real-life hero, her husband, Gerr.
Daddy’s Home is this award-winning author’s twenty-first romance for Harlequin. Not surprisingly, it too is set in Minnesota, and has a hero who knows how to warm a woman’s heart It’s a story full of Midwestern charm, which will leave you feeling good about love, about life and about family.
Daddy’s Home
Pamela Bauer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to my father, the most
honest man I know.
Thanks, Dad, for showing me what a hero can be.
CHAPTER ONE
“DADDY’S HOME!”
Tyler Brant barely had the door open when his six-year-old daughter flung herself at him. If there was one thing he would never grow tired of, it was the feel of her small, warm body clinging to his.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, lifting her so that he could twirl her around in a circle. He gave her a hug before setting her down.
“I missed you, too, Daddy.”
“Why are you dressed like a squash, sweetheart?” Tyler asked, smiling at the face painted the same orange as the costume she wore. Covering her legs were bright green tights that matched the stemlike satin cap hiding her blond curls.
“I’m not a squash. I’m a pumpkin!” she said, shoving her hands onto a waist that was stuffed with padding.
“And a very pretty pumpkin at that. Did Gram make that for you?”
“Uh-huh. She sewed it on the sewing machine and sprinkled all the sparkly things on,” Brittany answered, wiggling in delight. “I get to be in the parade.”
“And what parade is that?”
It was Tyler’s mother who answered. “It’s the Anoka Pumpkin Festival on Saturday. They’ve invited Brittany’s class to ride on one of the floats,” Millie Brant explained, walking toward Tyler with a tape measure draped around her neck. She greeted him with her usual kiss on the cheek. “Welcome home.”
“Isn’t it a little chilly for a parade this time of year?” Automatically, his brow creased as he shrugged out of his topcoat.
“She’ll be dressed in warm clothes,” his mother replied.
“We get to throw candy to the little kids watching the parade,” Brittany added.
Tyler hid his smile.
“Are you going to come and see me, Daddy?” She looked at Tyler with big, round blue eyes so like the ones her mother used to flash at him. He saw Susan every time she batted those innocent eyes at him, and a pain caught somewhere between his heart and throat.
“I’d like to, but I’m afraid I have to work,” he answered.
The little face fell. “You always have to work.”
Guilt settled in Tyler’s stomach like a big old rock. It was true he put in long hours—longer than the average father, but he had responsibilities. Something a six-year-old didn’t understand. He looked to his mother for support.
She didn’t give it. Instead, she gave him a familiar look of reprobation. “You’ve just spent four days working away from home. Surely you can take a Saturday off.”
“Not this Saturday,” he responded soberly.
“But, Daddy, don’t you want to see me be in the parade?” Brittany asked.
“Of course I do. Let’s sit down. I brought you something.” He grabbed her by the hand, reached for his overnight bag and moved into the living room. He pulled his daughter down beside him on the leather sofa. She watched with wide eyes as he unzipped his suitcase and pulled out a small pink bunny.
“A Beanie Baby!” Brittany cried out in delight, taking the soft stuffed animal into her hands. “Thank you, Daddy.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss.
“The tag says her name is Hoppity and that she likes to play hopscotch,” Tyler pointed out.
“She’s a girl! Oh, good. I have to show Walter.” She scrambled to her feet and hurried out of the room.
“You’re not always going to be able to buy her off with a stuffed animal, you know,” Millie said.
“I’d love to go to the parade, but it’s just not possible,” he stated, working hard to keep the irritation from his voice.
He could see his mother was not about to back down. “What’s so important on Saturday that you’re willing to miss seeing your daughter in a parade?”
“What’s important is getting two hundred people back to work. That fire in Hibbing destroyed a brand-new factory that would have provided income for a couple of hundred families. I have no choice but to meet with the contractors and go over the blueprints. The longer it takes to get the place rebuilt, the longer those people are out of work.”
“Let someone else look at the plans.”
“It’s not that easy. I’m the president of the company. With that title comes certain responsibilities,” he tried to explain, but his mother only shook her head.
“We’ve had this conversation before, Tyler. There’s no point going over it again. It won’t accomplish anything.”
“Mom, you know I spend every free minute I have with her. What more can I do?”
“Spend more free minutes with her,” she answered. “She’s growing up and you’re missing the important milestones in her life. I understood your need to bury yourself in your work after Susan died, but I thought that after the plane crash you’d come to your senses and realize how precious life is. I was wrong. Nothing’s changed. Work is still the number-one priority in your life.”
At the mention of his late wife’s name, Tyler’s insides twisted into a knot. He had thought time would ease the pain of losing her, yet nearly five years had passed and each time he heard her name, he relived the fiery automobile accident that had taken her life.
“All right, Mom. You’ve made your point,” he said with more anger than he intended. Seeing the hurt look on her face, he immediately apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“What’s wrong, Tyler? You’ve been so edgy these past few weeks.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he lied. “I’m fine. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
“You look tired. You should have taken some time off after the crash,” she said in a motherly tone. “Instead of rushing back to work, you should have been home resting. Everyone needs time to recover from trauma.”
“Not me. I needed to work,” Tyler corrected her, trying not to think about the experience. Two weeks ago he’d been in a small commuter plane on his way to assess the damage the fire had done to his electronics plant when the pilot had tried unsuccessfully to make an emergency landing.
In one horrifying instant, the plane crashed into the bank of the river. Bodies were flung into the icy waters. Eight of the ten people aboard drowned. By some strange quirk of fate, Tyler and one other passenger survived. Just as had happened the day of the car accident, Tyler had been allowed to walk away.
A shudder unsettled every nerve in his body. He had to force the image from his mind. The last five years had taught him that if he wanted to be of any use to his daughter, he needed to keep the past in the past. Reliving events wouldn’t change a thing.
Just then, Brittany rushed into the room waving a red folder. “I got something for you, Daddy,” she announced. “It’s my work from school.”
“Then you better show it to me now.” Tyler smiled as the little girl climbed onto his lap. With his arms wrapped around her, he watched as she opened the folder. First she pulled out a black cat made from construction paper, then a page with several words printed a couple of dozen times. Finally came a drawing done in crayon—three stick people and a rectangular house.
“This is Gram, that’s me and that’s you. See? I colored you a beard ’cause it was before you had your cushun.” She glanced at Tyler’s now-whiskerless face.
“It’s concussion, Brittany,” her grandmother automatically corrected her.
“Con-cush-un,” she repeated. She placed her hand on Tyler’s jaw. “I like you without your beard. It’s smooth.”
She tipped her head to stare at his only visible injury—an inch-long scar on the underside of his jaw. A piece of metal had sliced open his skin and come dangerously close to severing an artery in his neck.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Not anymore,” he answered honestly.
“Are you going to grow another beard?”
Before he could answer, his mother said, “I hope not. You’re such a handsome man, Tyler. It’s a shame to hide your good looks behind all that hair.”
Tyler ignored her comment. He knew that his keeping a full beard had always been a source of irritation for his mother. During his years in college, he had been both long-haired and bearded—about as scruffy as he could be.
Then he met Susan and everything changed. She not only cut his hair for him, but she shaved his face. She insisted that if he was going to fit into the establishment, he needed to look the part. And in those days, he would have done anything for Susan.
“Look at this, Daddy.” Brittany stuck a red-and-pink finger painting close to his face.
“Very nice. I like the bright colors.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“It’s a cherry pie.”
“Ah. That’s why you used so much red.”
“Red’s my favorite color.” She shoved the painting back into the folder, then pulled out some newspaper clippings encased in plastic. “This is what I brought for show-and-tell.”
Tyler frowned. In his daughter’s hands was an article about the airplane crash. The headline read Local Man Is Hero.
Brittany held it in her outstretched hands, waiting for him to take it. He didn’t want to look at it. He turned to his mother. “You let her take this to school?”
“She saw your picture in the paper and wanted to bring it for show-and-tell,” Millie said with an apologetic lift of her eyebrows.
Brittany smiled proudly. “My teacher said that you’re a hero, Daddy. She said you were very brave.”
He shifted uneasily on the sofa. “I’m not a hero and the newspapers shouldn’t have said I was.”
Brittany’s face fell. “But my teacher said—”
“And your teacher is right,” Millie interjected. “Your father’s just being modest. He most certainly is a hero. Now why don’t you go change out of that costume. Gram still has to iron on the pumpkin’s face.”
“All right, Gram.” Brittany shoved the newspaper article back into the folder and looked at Tyler. “Are you mad at me for bringing the newspaper to school?”
He gave her a squeeze. “No, I’m not mad. It was very nice of you to want to bring me for show-and-tell.” He gave her an extra hug. “I love you, Brittany.”
“I love you, too, Daddy,” she responded, but the words were subdued.
As soon as she was gone, his mother said, “Every little girl wants her father to be a hero.”
Tyler rubbed the tight muscles in his neck. “Fine. I can be her hero while we’re here in this house, but she doesn’t need to know everything that happened in Hibbing, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t encourage her to talk about it.”
“She’s a child. She has questions.”
He frowned. “Why did you give her the newspaper?”
“I didn’t give it to her. Tyler, your picture was on the front page. She saw it when we were in the grocery store. It’s rather difficult to pretend you weren’t in that crash when it’s been in the papers and on television.”
