Ryder turned his head and narrowed his gaze on his daughter’s face. Was there some sarcasm or snark in there? He couldn’t tell. She blinked at him innocently from behind her glasses. She looked so much like her mother for a moment that it took his breath away. He shook his head. There was no point going there.
“Did you have something to say about Saint Mary’s?” he asked. “You’ve worked your whole academic life to be considered for their nationally recognized science program. Have you changed your mind?”
“No.” Her voice was curt, shutting him down and out. It set Ryder’s teeth on edge. Why had no one ever warned him how mercurial teenagers could be? One minute they adored you and the next minute you were public enemy number one. It was exhausting.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Be a champ, and if you hear me whistle, come and be my backup.”
“In case the owner lady is crazy and you need an exit strategy or a chaperone?” Perry asked. She looked bored. “Sure, no prob.”
“That’s my girl,” he said.
Of course, he didn’t mention that the owner lady more than likely needed a chaperone from him, figuring it was more than his teenage daughter needed to know. It had been a few days since his first meeting with Maisy Kelly, but he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted the job to restore her old house so much or because she intrigued him so much. He could still feel her gentle touch as she tended to the knot on his head. During the rest of the tour, it had been strictly business, but she’d proven to be smart, funny, and kind. There was no denying he’d taken an immediate liking to the petite bibliophile.
Still, Perry knew the drill. If he whistled she’d come run interference and hopefully distract him if he was about to say or do something stupid like ask Maisy out. That way, when things went wrong with the job, because something always went wrong on a job, it didn’t turn ugly—well, uglier.
He’d learned this lesson while working with a particularly aggressive real estate agent who had formed an unnatural attachment to Ryder, even going so far as to show up at his home, wearing nothing but a for sale sign over her listings, so to speak. He shuddered. Never again.
He snatched his cowboy hat off the seat beside him and stepped out of his big green truck. He studied the house and then slapped the hat on his head, blocking the sun and taking time with his appraisal of the outside of the house. Yep, she was as magnificent as he remembered. It was the perfect job to lose himself in while he dreaded the changes coming his way.
Perry was going to be leaving him soon. From the time she’d been born, he’d planned to send her to the same elite private high school in Connecticut that her mother had attended. Growing up on the poorer side of broke with an alcoholic father who hadn’t been able to hang on to a job for longer than the first paycheck, Ryder had promised himself that when he had kids he would be nothing like that. He would provide. He would give them everything he’d never had.
On the day Perry was born, when the doctor put that red-faced, puffy-eyed squaller into his arms, he knew. He knew he would make sure she had every advantage, from the best care to the best education, that she would never know what it was like to feel hungry or unsafe, and, most of all, she would know how much he loved her. He would provide and protect with everything he had.
The plan was that when Perry left for school, he’d be leaving Fairdale, too, to take the high-paying position of resident restoration architect for the city of Charleston, South Carolina. It was a plum job and it would pay for Perry’s education and solidify his reputation as one of the top restoration architects in the country. He had negotiated to take the job in a few months, wanting to be able to spend this last summer with Perry in the town they had both come to consider home.
He stepped onto the porch and glanced down at his hand where the bid was supposed to be. He rolled his eyes. He had so many emotions broiling inside him, he’d forgotten the paperwork in the truck. He turned around and stomped back to the green behemoth, hoping this was not indicative of how his day was going to go.
He opened the passenger-side door of his truck and grabbed his briefcase. He glanced at the backseat, expecting a wisecrack from the kid. A soft snore was the only sound. Perry was dead asleep across the seat, her phone clutched in one hand and her biology textbook open facedown across her belly.
She had wound her pale-brown hair into a thick braid and it draped down across the upholstery, strands twisting themselves free. Her glasses had dropped down on her upturned nose, which boasted a faint spray of freckles. For a moment, Ryder could see the wild young girl she had once been. The one who wore an old football jersey of his over her princess dress, who collected tree frogs and fireflies, and ate her body weight in chocolate ice cream. The same one who greeted him at the door in the evening with sticky hugs and kisses and I love you, Daddys.
It made his heart hurt to know that little girl was gone. Oh, he loved his wisenheimer, practical-joke-playing middle schooler just as much, but every day he felt like she was taking one more step away from him as she forged her own life, and it took everything he had to let her go.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and quietly closed the door to the truck. The day was cool, the windows were down, and it wouldn’t hurt his busy, busy teenage girl to catch a power nap while he talked with Maisy.
He had hoped the two would meet today, but if he got the job, there would be plenty of time for that. Heck, they’d have an entire summer to get to know each other before Perry left. He felt a twinge of anxiety at the thought of Perry out in the world on her own, but he pushed it aside.
There wasn’t any point in thinking about that just yet. First, he had to get this job and make sure he could keep himself busy over the summer or else he might turn into one of those clingy helicopter sort of parents, which he knew for a fact both he and Perry would loathe. He glanced up at the house again. It called to him, but even if it didn’t, he wouldn’t care. He just wanted a project, something that would soothe the never-ending restlessness in his soul, also called “denial.”
Now he just had to convince Maisy to hire him. He smoothed the wrinkles on his shirt and made sure he was properly tucked in before he crossed the porch to the front door. He had this—really, he did.
Ryder knocked on the door and waited. He forced himself not to shift from foot to foot. When no one answered right away, he tried to tell himself that she was likely upstairs and it would take her a moment. He thought about his first sight of her in her oversized sweatshirt. He’d thought she was just a college student. Clearly, she was a bit older. Possibly a grad student? He wondered what job the dingleberry had taken of hers. Teacher’s assistant, maybe? Then he reminded himself it was none of his business.
He knocked one more time just in case she hadn’t heard him and hoped that she hadn’t mixed up the day again. Not that he had anything better to do, but he didn’t want to interrupt her during a nap or, heaven forbid, a shower.
The door swung open, and he felt relief that she’d answered, followed by the swift realization that he had to keep his eyes on her face at all times.
“Ryder, hello,” she said. “Sorry. I was packing boxes and didn’t hear you right away.”
Maisy was disheveled with her dark curls in a cloud around her head. Her skin was covered with a light sheen of sweat—and, man, was there a lot of skin showing—and a smudge of dirt was on her chin. He tried to keep his eyes on her face, really he did, but they drifted down to confirm what he thought he’d seen at a glance. She was wearing Lycra yoga pants with a hot-pink racing stripe up the side and a matching pink sports bra. Have mercy!
Chapter Five
“HI,” he said. Ryder cleared his throat and his gaze jumped from her to the doorframe to the hall behind her and back to her eyes, where it stayed. He looked just as handsome as he had the other day, in jeans and a form-fitting gray T-shirt, topped by his cowbo
y hat. He also appeared a little stressed. Maisy hoped the bump on his head from the other morning hadn’t given him a concussion. “One second,” he said. “I need to call in my team.”
“Team?”
Ryder didn’t explain but turned away and parted his lips with his index finger and thumb and let loose a piercing whistle. Maisy stood up straight, not knowing what to expect, but half anticipated a crew of people to drop out of one of the two enormous oak trees in the front yard like an elite squad of house fixers.
Instead a head popped up from the backseat of the extended cab of the truck and just like that a young, lithe body was climbing over the front seat and sliding out of the open window of the passenger side of the truck. It was a girl who looked to be a young teen, wearing glasses much like Maisy’s. The girl had on jeans and a T-shirt that were rumpled as if she’d just woken from a nap, which would explain why Maisy hadn’t seen her in the truck.
“Perry, nice of you to join us,” Ryder said.
The young girl stretched and her mouth opened wide in a smile. “Happy to take a break from the rigorous studying.”
“Studying, napping, yeah, I can understand the strain.” Ryder smiled and shook his head.
When the girl stepped up beside him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against his side, planting a kiss on her head. They shared the same bright-blue eyes, full lips, and square jaw, making the resemblance between them impossible to miss.
“Perry, this is Ms. Kelly,” he said. “This is her house that I’m putting a bid on.” He glanced at Maisy and said, “My daughter, Perry.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Kelly,” Perry said.
“You, too, but please call me Maisy.”
She felt a disappointed sigh slide out of her. Of course the cowboy architect had a kid, probably a bushel of them and with some sweet adorable prairie wife, too. It just proved the theory that the good ones were always taken. Ah, well, for a moment her heart had beaten a smidgen faster, but now she could just work with him without any of that pesky attraction getting in the way. Probably, it was for the best—really.
“Well, come on in,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here as I have some news.”
She pulled open the old wooden front door, moving aside to let them pass before closing it. Perry walked cautiously inside as if she felt uncomfortable being the first one to enter but didn’t know how to avoid it.
As Ryder removed his hat, Maisy noted that on the ring finger of his left hand he wore a plain gold band. Marriage confirmed. She wondered how she’d missed it and then remembered he’d been wearing work gloves when he toured the house before. She supposed it was just as well. After all, Ryder Copeland was so far out of her league he might as well be across the state line. Despite the flutter of awareness she felt when he was near, it was clear he was unavailable, and Maisy wasn’t the sort of woman who took a man’s status lightly. Ever.
“Oh, wow,” Perry said. She took in all of the books at a glance. “This is lit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books in one place before.” She reached out to touch one but paused and asked, “May I?”
“Sure.” Maisy nodded.
Perry reached for a novel on the top of the pile Maisy had already sorted. It was a Destiny Swann stack. Being one of the most prolific authors who had ever put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, Maisy had already decided that Destiny Swann would have her own floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the shop when she opened it. On top of being a local author, Destiny Swann was also notoriously reclusive as she hadn’t done a public appearance in over ten years. But, hey, maybe one day Destiny would visit for a book signing or a reading. Maisy felt a small swoon happen and she put her hand over her heart.
“Are you all right?” Ryder asked. His gaze took in her hand over her heart and then flew back up to meet hers.
“Yes,” she said. “Just having a fan girl moment. You know, because Destiny.” He looked bewildered and she didn’t know how to explain so she changed the subject. “How’s your head?”
A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. “No worries. The bump is pretty much gone so I don’t think the damage was permanent.”
His blue eyes were teasing and Maisy felt her face grow warm under his regard. Why did he have to be married? Why?
Ryder pulled one of the books off the stack. He flipped it over and studied the back and then replaced the book, moving his hand down the spines as he took in the variety of titles.
“Your aunt must have read a couple of books every day,” he said.
“At least,” Maisy said. “Sometimes more. When she became less mobile in her later years, she was plowing through five books per day.”
“Five? A day?” That seemed to jolt Perry out of her stupor. “I’m lucky if I can read five in a year.”
Ryder gave her an indulgent look. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You have all that Snapchat to keep up with. It likely interferes with your reading time.”
“Dad.” Perry rolled her eyes and then turned to Maisy and asked, “Is the whole house like this?”
“Yes . . . mostly,” she said. “Auntie El didn’t put as many books in the bathrooms.”
Perry blinked and her dad nodded. “It’s true.”
“Or the kitchen, well, not the cooking part anyway. I did once find a boxed set of novels in her freezer.”
“Maybe the books were too hot to handle,” Perry said. Her eyes went wide behind her glasses when she realized she’d spoken out loud, and she blushed.
“Could be.” Maisy laughed. Perry ducked her head and Maisy got the feeling that Perry was on the shy side or maybe she was just at an awkward stage. Either way, she was as cute as a button and clever, too. Maisy warmed to her.
With a hint of a smile on his lips Ryder glanced at his daughter. Then he turned to Maisy and she found herself flustered to be on the receiving end of his attention. Without his hat, she noted that his thick, wavy hair was in need of a trim as it had started to curl over the tips of his ears. The memory of its softness beneath her fingers made her fingers tingle. She clasped her hands together and forced her gaze away from him and back to the room.
“Naturally, I’m working on boxing and sorting the collection until we have the shop ready to hold it,” she said.
“So, you’ve decided to keep all of the books?” Ryder asked.
“About that,” Maisy said. “I had an Idea! and that’s idea with a capital I and an exclamation point.”
They both looked at Maisy and then Perry leaned close to her dad and whispered, “So, crazy?”
“Shh,” he hushed her but the look in his eyes was full of worry as if he, too, was concerned.
Maisy pretended she hadn’t heard them. Did Ryder think she was crazy? Oh, boy, she couldn’t wait until he heard her Idea!
“Follow me,” she said. “I want to show you something.”
She gestured for them to follow her as she headed up the stairs. The old wooden banister gave her a nice feeling of support as she picked her way carefully up the carpeted steps in between more knee-high stacks of books.
Ryder dropped his hat on the balustrade at the bottom of the steps. His fingers brushed the exposed part of the balusters not blocked by books. “Solid walnut and in excellent condition. That’s as good as a pie dinner.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Maisy asked.
“Grew up in Austin, Texas, in fact,” he said. He placed one big work boot on the step behind her, leaving Perry to follow them. “What gave it away?”
“Your accent is a little harder on the l’s and the r’s than a North Carolinian one,” Maisy said. “And we tend to use d’s for t’s but you don’t, even though you definitely have a slow-talking, syrupy drawl just like the rest of us Southerners.”
“Syrupy?” Ryder asked. His forehead wrinkled as if he was debating whether to b
e insulted or not.
“She’s right, Dad, you do talk funny,” Perry said. She glanced over her father’s shoulder at Maisy and grinned and then quickly glanced away. It was an impish smile and it gave Maisy an idea of what the young woman had looked like as a toddler.
“Oh, what do you know?” Ryder asked his daughter. “You’re only fourteen and have lived in ten different states.”
“That’s how I know,” she said.
Maisy glanced between them. The affection was obvious. Not for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to have this. She was almost thirty. She’d always assumed that somewhere in her twenties she’d meet the right guy, a good one, and settle down. Unfortunately, when she thought she’d met the right one, he’d turned out to be a scheming, no-good—dingleberry. She shook her head. She was not going to let the past ruin her present. Not anymore.
She watched Ryder grab the end of his daughter’s braid and give it a gentle tug. Perry laughed and swatted at his hand and he laughed, too. Maisy knew she hadn’t known him long enough to make a truly informed decision, but she decided she liked Ryder Copeland. She liked the way he paid attention to his daughter and the way he listened to her, Maisy, when she spoke.
She got the feeling he saw beneath the surface of things, of people. Maybe that was what made him a good preservationist. He looked through the slapped-on layers of paint and paper all the way to the original structure.
“So, about this Idea!” he began but Maisy moved down the landing to the first door. She flung it open so they could see inside. He did a small stagger step. “Dang.”
Perry peered around her father’s back. Her eyes were huge.
This had been Auntie El’s primary dumping room. It was the first bedroom at the top of the stairs, so it made sense. While the other bedrooms were stuffed with books as well, this was the one that looked as if it might heave its guts out at any moment.
The first day that Ryder had been here, he had mostly been checking the house’s foundation—its wiring, furnace, radiators, and such. Maisy hadn’t shown him what she was dealing with inside the upstairs bedrooms.
The Good Ones Page 4