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“Because it wasn’t a crappy enough day already,” her mother muttered in weary response.
The little girl gasped. “You said a bad word.”
“Yes, I did,” she admitted.
“Where’s your attic access?” Ryder asked her.
“My bedroom,” she told him.
He followed her across the hall. She reached for the loop of white rope in the ceiling. Of course, even on tiptoe, her fingertips barely brushed the rope. He easily reached up to grasp the handle and pull down the stairs.
She looked up into the yawning darkness overhead. “I can’t remember the last time I was up there,” she admitted. “I don’t even know if there’s a light.”
Even if there was, there was also water coming into the house and Ryder wasn’t willing to take a chance on forty-year-old wiring. Instead, he pulled the flashlight from his tool belt, switched on the beam 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?”
Chapter Three (#ulink_16c8d8b3-5c58-5a20-8b85-4df293b9d295)
Ryder left shortly after that, promising to have the contract revised to reflect the terms of their verbal agreement.
Lauryn still had some concerns, but she pushed them aside and packed the kids into the van to take them to her parents’ house before her appointment with Howard Greenbaum, the loans manager at the bank. Howard and her father were old friends and she’d known the man since she was a little girl. She also knew that Howard would never let that long-term friendship affect any decisions that had to be made on the job—a fact that he confirmed before she left the bank.
When Lauryn returned to her childhood home, Zachary was napping in his playpen and Kylie was playing with some of her mother’s old dolls in front of the television in the living room—keeping Grandpa company while he watched his favorite afternoon game shows. Looking at her children now, everything seemed so normal, so right. But she was suddenly and painfully aware of how quickly their situation could change.
Still, she was lucky. She knew that no matter what else happened, her parents would never let her kids go hungry or sleep on a park bench. And while there was undoubtedly some comfort in that realization, she wanted to provide for her own family—even if she was becoming increasingly doubtful that she could.
“Is everything okay?” Susan Garrett asked when Lauryn made her way to the kitchen, where her mother was tidying up after baking cookies.
She could only shake her head.
“Do you want to talk about it?” her mother prompted.
She shook her head again, then let out a sigh.
“Actually I do,” she admitted. “But if I talk about it, I’ll fall apart, and I don’t want Kylie to see me fall apart.”
Susan pulled a glass from the cupboard, filled it with milk, then set the drink and a plate of chocolate-chip cookies on the table and instructed her daughter to sit.
So Lauryn did. And, unable to resist, she reached for a cookie and broke off a piece. The still-warm morsel flooded her mouth with the flavor of her childhood and made her yearn—almost desperately—for those simpler times when her mother could make all of her troubles go away. But she was the mother now; she had to handle her own troubles and make things right for her children.
“Are there problems at The Locker Room?” Susan asked, aware that Lauryn was trying to pull the sporting goods store back from the brink of financial disaster.
She managed a wry smile. “Aren’t there always?”
“Then something else—something more—is weighing on your mind,” her mother noted. “Have you heard from Rob?”
She shook her head. “Not a single word. And believe me, that’s a relief not a disappointment.”
“I can understand that,” Susan acknowledged. “What I can’t understand is how he could walk away from his children. Regardless of what happened between the two of you, he’s their father.”
“Apparently, that title doesn’t mean the same thing to all men,” Lauryn noted.
“Has Kylie asked about him lately?”
She shook her head. “Not in a while.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” her mother said.
“I’m sure she misses him,” Lauryn said, then reconsidered. “Or maybe not. Even when he was around, he wasn’t much of a hands-on dad.”
“So if you’re not worried about Rob,” Susan prompted.
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, you know—”
“I do know,” Lauryn interjected. “But you already do so much.”
Her mother seemed genuinely surprised by that. “What do I do?”
“You look after Kylie and Zachary whenever I need you to.”
“Honey, that’s not a favor to you but a treat for me,” Susan told her.
“I love you for saying that, but I know my kids—they’re not always a treat.”
“They are for their grandparents,” her mother insisted.
