until I’m off tonight? They won’t fit in my locker.”
“I have to run home for a few minutes,” Joe said. “Why don’t you come with me and we can get you settled in. Unless you feel you need more time to train before the dinner rush.”
“Not really.” After eight years, bartending was pretty much second nature. “I’ll go tell Lindy I’m leaving.”
He pushed himself up from his chair and walked around the desk, nodding to the bags she was still clutching. “I’ll take those.”
“That’s okay, I can—”
He pinned her with a look that said it would be in her best interest not to argue. A sort of, let me be nice or else.
Okay. She held the bags up for him to take.
“My truck is parked out back.”
Which she took to mean, as he headed for the back door, that he wanted her to meet him out there. Because apparently it would kill him to actually say the words.
Shaking her head with exasperation, she hurried out to the bar and told Lindy she was leaving for a bit.
“Things won’t pick back up until at least four-thirty, so take some time to get settled in,” Lindy told her. Then she handed her a thick fold of bills. “Lunch tips.”
She stuffed them into the pocket of her jeans. “Thanks. This will definitely come in handy.”
Reily went into the back, grabbed her purse and purchases from her locker and said goodbye to the day cooks, Ray and Al, as she walked through the kitchen to the back door and pushed out into the afternoon sunshine.
Jill, one of the waitresses, stood just outside the door smoking a cigarette. She and Reily hadn’t had much time to get acquainted, but she seemed nice enough.
“Shift over already?” she asked Reily, taking a long, deep drag and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the hot, dry air.
“I’m taking off for a couple of hours, but I’ll be back.”
She eyed Reily suspiciously. “Does Joe know that you’re leaving?”
The words had barely left her mouth when Joe pulled up beside them in a newer-model, dark blue pickup.
“He knows,” Reily told her. “See you later.”
Jill’s openmouthed look of disbelief was the last thing she saw as she climbed in and buckled her seat belt. Though why Jill would care if Reily left with Joe, she didn’t have a clue.
Without so much as a glance Reily’s way, Joe put the truck into gear and pulled out of the lot. He headed down Main Street into town, which was bustling with cars and people, and turned left at Third Street, taking them into a residential section. Most of the homes were older but well tended and charming, with postage-stamp lots and tidy lawns. Not unlike the neighborhood she’d lived in before her parents had died, before she’d moved into the shabby little one-bedroom trailer with her aunt. Reily hadn’t even had her own bedroom, just a corner in the living room to keep her things and a foldout sofa to sleep on.
Joe drove two blocks down, then took a right at High Street. The lots were much larger and the houses sparser. Near the end of the block he turned into the driveway of a white-picket-fenced, craftsman-style home with deep green siding and a wide front porch flanked by white tapered pillars. It was as warm and charming as a Norman Rockwell painting, and not at all what she would have expected from a single guy.
He pulled up the driveway and parked in front of a double-car, two-story garage. The first thing Reily noticed as she opened the door and climbed out was the purple little-girl’s bike leaning against the side of the garage. In the backyard, which had to be at least two hundred feet wide and twice that in length, she could see a swing set and a playhouse that looked like a scaled-down and simplified version of the main house. There was also a sandbox, a red Radio Flyer wagon and various other toys scattered across the lawn.
Did Joe have kids?
As if on cue, the side door flew open and a little girl shot out onto the driveway in a blur of fine, curly blond hair, pink shorts, white tank top and purple flip-flops. “Daddy!” she shrieked, vaulting herself into his outstretched arms. “It came out! It came out!”
She opened her mouth wide, showing off a missing front tooth. Joe smiled at his daughter—a real, honest-to-goodness smile—and the effect was utterly devastating. He was handsome enough when he was all dark and gloomy, but when he showed some teeth? Good Lord, she practically had to fan her face.
Lindy hadn’t mentioned Joe ever being married. Not that it mattered either way to Reily. It was just hard to imagine him ever having the kind of optimism it took to step up to the altar.
“Did you give it to Aunt Sue to put under your pillow tonight?” Joe asked. She nodded enthusiastically, then she noticed Reily standing there watching them.
Her brow dipped in a look that was 100 percent Joe, and she demanded, “Who are you?”
Not shy, was she?
“Lily Ann, where are your manners?” he scolded. “This is Miss Eckardt. She works at the bar and she’s going to stay in the garage apartment for a while.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lily Ann,” Reily said. “How old are you?”
“Five,” Lily Ann said, holding up the digits of her left hand. “Your hair is pretty. I want long hair, too, but Daddy says it gets too tangly because it’s curly.”
“And I’ve always wanted curly hair,” Reily said with a smile. “Mine is so straight and boring.”
Joe gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek and set her back down on the driveway, giving her bottom a firm pat. “Go on back inside. I’ll be in as soon as I show Miss Eckardt the apartment.”
She scurried for the door and disappeared inside the house.
“She’s adorable,” Reily said as the screen door slammed shut with a sharp bang.
“And don’t think she doesn’t know it.” He grabbed her bags from the bed of the truck, then gestured to a set of wood stairs that hugged the side of the garage. “It’s this way.”
She followed him up the narrow staircase, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had a really cute behind. Not only was he brooding and pessimistic, but he had an adorable daughter to boot. The situation had complicated written all over it.
He paused on the small landing at the top, pulled his keys from his jeans pocket and unlocked the door. A wave of stale, hot air rushed out as he pulled it open. He dropped her bags inside and walked straight over to a window that overlooked the backyard. He pushed back the curtains and lifted the sash, letting sunshine and a rush of fresh air into the room. The living space was cozy and welcoming, with two mismatched, floral-print, hand-me-down chairs; a scarred wood coffee table; and a matching pair of brass floor lamps. The kitchenette was small and basic, but functional, with a two-burner stove and an economy-size refrigerator.
“This is nice,” she said.
“There’s a
