his children and gently eased the thumb out of his daughter’s mouth. “My wife passed away two years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can—” Stop. You don’t offer to help a complete stranger. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” Except he didn’t sound grateful. He sounded as though he wished people would stop asking where his wife was, and stop offering clichéd condolences when they found out.
The little girl with the crooked pigtails tugged on his hand. “What’s she doing here, Daddy?”
The other child had already recaptured her thumb.
“She’s going to help us sell the house.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to move into a new one.”
“Why?”
Kristi was reminded of her own daughter at this age, when the answer to every question generated another, especially when the answer was because. Creating a distraction had been the only way to make the questions stop.
“What are your names?” she asked.
“I’m Molly. She’s Martha. We’re sisters.”
“Nice to meet you, Molly and Martha. How old are you?”
“Four.” Molly appeared to be the pair’s designated spokesperson.
Martha held up the four fingers of her free hand, apparently happy to let her sister do the talking.
They were adorable. They were also a poignant reminder of how much she loved children, how she’d never really got past the disappointment of not having more of her own. The panting dog nudged her elbow with its moist nose, making her laugh. She rubbed the top of its head in response.
“You should come in.” Nate reached for the dog’s collar and backed away from the door, taking the girls and the dog with him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you standing out there.”
“Thank you.” She’d begun to wonder when that would occur to him. She stepped into the foyer and tripped over the fourth yellow rubber boot.
Stupid high-heeled shoes. She’d put them on, thinking they made her look more professional, and instead they turned her into a klutz.
Nate grabbed her elbow and held on till she’d regained her footing. She looked up and connected with his intense blue-eyed gaze, and for a second or two, or ten, she couldn’t draw a breath. He was gorgeous.
When the clock started ticking again, he abruptly let her go, as though he’d read her thoughts, maybe even had similar ones of his own, and then with one foot he slid the boot out of her path. The dog snapped it up by the heel and gave it a shake, sending a spatter of drool across the floor.
Kristi shuddered.
“Girls, remember what we talked about? You need to put your things in the closet.”
“That’s Martha’s,” Molly said. “Mine are outside.”
Martha tugged the boot out of the dog’s mouth, tossed it onto the pile of things in the bottom of the closet and tried unsuccessfully to close the bifold door. She was remarkably adept at doing things with one hand.
“Sorry about the mess,” Nate said. “If I had remembered you were coming, I would have tidied up.”
Kristi couldn’t tell if the closet door wouldn’t close because the pile of clothing and footwear was in the way or if a hinge was broken, or both. She made a mental note to have Sam take a look at it, and added storage baskets to the list already forming in her head. She lived with a teenage girl and a dog so she knew a thing or two about clutter. At least the slate tile floor was clean, which, given the amount of traffic generated by two small children and one large dog, was a good sign. This man must be a decent housekeeper, or maybe he had a cleaning service. Either option scored him some points. The children looked well cared for, too, and in the grand scheme of things they were most important.
All this made Nate McTavish pretty much the opposite of the deadbeat dads in her life. That, along with his offhand charm and those heart-stopping eyes, should elevate her opinion of him. Instead the combination set off a loud clamor of mental alarm bells.
Get over yourself. Quiver-inducing blue eyes aside, she was here to do a job, not strike up an unwelcome relationship with a client.
“Not a problem. That’s why I’m here.” And if the rest of the house was anything like the foyer, she had her work cut out for her.
“Where would you like to start?” he asked.
“Is this the living room?” she asked, pointing to a pair of mullioned glass doors. With the frosted glass, they looked more like Japanese rice paper than traditional French doors.
He hesitated, then reluctantly pushed them open. “It is. We almost never use it so I keep the doors closed.”
Kristi surveyed the interior. The curtains were closed and the room was dark and cool. The vaulted cedar-plank ceiling was draped with yellow-and-mauve crepe paper and clusters of matching balloons. Several balloons appeared to have come loose and were now on the floor, looking a little deflated.
“We had the girls’ birthday party here last week and I didn’t get around to taking down the decorations. I’ll be sure to do that tonight.”
Martha clung to her father’s hand but Molly scampered into the room and attempted a balloon toss. The massive dog lumbered in behind her. The yellow blob of a balloon slithered to the floor so the child stomped on it instead. When it didn’t pop, she lost interest and rejoined her father and sister. The dog nudged it with its nose, picked it up and gave it a chomp. Still no pop, so the Saint dropped the slobbery mass in the middle of the sisal area rug.
The room was furnished with comfortable-looking furniture and there was an abundance of books and newspapers, a few kids’ toys and dog toys, and sofa cushions that needed straightening.
Kristi took her camera out of her bag and looped the strap around her neck. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to photograph each room. When I get back to my place…my office—” He didn’t need to know she did most of her work out of the back of her minivan and at one end of her kitchen table. “The photographs help me create a design plan and draw up a budget.”
“Fine with me. Are you okay to look around on your own? I still have some work to do outside.” He pulled his gardening gloves back on.
“You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll look through the house and we can talk when I’m done.”
“And I will tidy up in here tonight,” he assured her again.
The week-old remnants of the party seemed to embarrass him. Kristi didn’t see them as a problem, quite the opposite. At least there had been a party, and that was definitely to his credit. She couldn’t remember the last time Jenna’s dad had even called to wish their daughter a happy birthday. Gifts? Not even a consideration.
“Molly. Martha. Let’s go. You can play outside while I work.”
“Daddy,
