wasn’t.”
He stopped in front of a bedroom. “How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“You’re a good judge of people?”
“Yes.” Mostly. Her biggest lapse in judgment was with Lance the Loser.
Everyone was entitled to one monster of a mistake, right? She’d been a kid in the foster care system and had to move from place to place. Growing up, she’d dreamed of having a house of her very own. She’d worked really hard and saved to do that, then lost it on Lance. That’s what happened when a girl took a man at his word but got nothing in writing to protect herself.
There’d been no choice but to start all over again saving for a house, and after this summer job, she would have enough for the down payment. Again.
“So, you’re a good judge of people and still took this job?” Logan said.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” She was pretty sure he was joking and that was supposed to be a sassy comeback, but Grace couldn’t tell if she’d pulled it off.
“You did the research.” Logan shrugged and one corner of his mouth quirked up before he carried her suitcase into the spacious room, then set it on a cedar chest at the foot of the bed. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”
There was a queen-size bed with brass head- and footboards. An old-fashioned wedding-ring-patterned spread and throw pillows in dusty rose and green covered the mattress. On the wall over the swivel rocker hung a flowered hatbox and vintage prints in oval frames. One was a needlepoint that said, “A Family Stitched Together with Love Seldom Unravels.” The mirrored dresser and matching armoire looked old but well cared for.
“This is a girl’s room,” Grace observed.
“It was my sister’s.” He pointed. “The bathroom is through there.”
“Lucky girl had it all to herself.”
“Not luck so much as practical. Mom and Granddad figured the line would move faster in the morning if Jamie didn’t hog the facilities. There’s another one down the hall. My two brothers and I used that one. Cassie’s room is next to it.”
“Wow, four kids.” And no mention of his father. “Must have been fun growing up.”
“Not really.”
It would have been so easy for him to say his childhood was idyllic and carefree. How would she know? Well, except for the glaring omission of any reference to his father. But, really, he could have taken the easy way out and glossed over it, but he didn’t. She liked that about him. And yet it made her considerably more curious to know details.
“I’ll show you the rest of the place,” Logan said, before she could ask anything.
Each room was cozier than the last. The kitchen looked recently remodeled with granite countertops, a large island and wood floor. A circular oak table and four matching chairs filled the nook overlooking a manicured backyard with a pool.
Grace had never had a house of her own and was admittedly sensitive to a homey vibe. That said, after seeing Logan Hunt’s whole house there was no denying love at first sight. The realization made the ache inside her bigger. All she’d ever wanted was somewhere to belong with roots that went deep. A place that was all hers, that she could call home.
On the plus side, when this summer job was over she would have the money to put a down payment on property with her name on the title. She could picture it in her mind, a positive affirmation. Until then, her work environment was awesome.
But every plus had a minus, and his name was Logan Hunt.
* * *
Logan was doing his damnedest to be a good father, but very often his daughter had a way of proving that he was spitting into the wind.
“Daddy, you got soap in my eyes.” Cassie was sitting in the tub, rubbing her eyes.
“Sorry, baby girl.” He let the bathwater out, then turned on the tub’s spigot and used a plastic glass to pour fresh water over her head. “Is that better?”
She nodded. “I’m cold.”
“Got a towel right here.” He lifted her out and wrapped the thick terry cloth around her. “Let’s get you dry and in your nightgown, then I’ll brush your hair.”
“I don’t like that part.” She had blue eyes, light brown hair and the prettiest pout in the world. People always said she looked like him. He would take it, minus the pout part.
“Do you want Grace to brush your hair?”
Cassie thought for a moment. “Maybe you should show her how first.”
That meant sharing confined bathroom space with her, but there didn’t seem a way out of it. “Okay. I’ll go get her while you finish drying off and put on your nightgown.”
“Okay.”
Logan left and found Grace in her room unpacking. He stood in the open doorway, taking in the fresh pretty sight of her. The first time he’d seen Grace Flynn was when he interviewed her. It felt as if he’d been slugged in the gut with a sledgehammer. The second time was this afternoon when she’d arrived for work, and the sledgehammer felt more like a bulldozer. She wasn’t cover-model beautiful, but that mouth... Her full lips looked as soft as cotton candy and twice as sweet. More temptation than he was prepared to deal with.
The problem was, she was perfect for this job, except the part where Logan wanted to find out if she might be attracted to him, too. He would know only if he made a move on her and that was out of the question. But accepting that didn’t make the wanting go away. Why couldn’t she be a sweet old lady? Or even a crabby one who was great with kids? Since luck had never been on his side, there was no reason to hope for a change now.
Hiring her to take care of his daughter was trouble with a capital T, but by the time he’d met her Cassie’s mom had all but signed her onto the payroll. His approval was more symbolic than anything, and her credentials were impeccable. No way could he admit he was the problem and why that was. So Grace was here for the next eight weeks.
God help him.
He cleared his throat. “Grace—”
“Oh, my God!” She whirled around, dropping the stack of panties and bras she’d been about to put in a drawer. “I didn’t know you were there.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” It hadn’t escaped his notice that her panties were skimpy, lacy and at least one pair was red and one black. Might have been a pink one, too, but verifying would mean staring and that wasn’t smart. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Maybe I should wear a bell around my neck.”
“Works for me.” She blew out a breath. “Is there something you needed?”
That was a loaded question if he’d ever heard one, but that’s not what she meant. “Cassie’s finished in the tub and I’m going to brush out her hair. She thought you might want to watch, in case you have to do it.”
