Darcy and the Single Dad. Stacy ConnellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
or not, he didn’t have the freedom his younger brothers did. Sam especially enjoyed the opportunity to have a good time. He’d dive into a fling with Darcy Dawson headfirst and come out smelling like roses on the other side. Women could never stay angry at Sam.
Normally, Nick could never stay angry at Sam, but just the thought of his youngest brother and Darcy Dawson together made his jaw clench tight enough to crack.
“Did Ms. Dawson say what the emergency is?”
“Nope. Her cell phone started breaking up before she could say. Funny thing, I didn’t even know she had any pets.”
Deciding he was having some cell problems of his own, Nick hung up on his assistant’s chortling laugh.
Having his name even temporarily linked with Darcy Dawson’s would only scare off the right kind of woman. His ill-fated marriage to Carol was already something of a black mark against him. He didn’t need to be down two strikes before he even came up to bat.
Maddie needed a positive female influence. Sure, his mother had been around her entire life, and Sophia had recently moved back to town, but a grandmother and aunt weren’t the same as a mother. Someone who could be a constant, consistent, solid presence in Maddie’s life. Someone who was small town, with Clearville roots dug deep in her soul. That was the kind of woman Nick was looking for.
This time, he was going to be damn sure he made the right choice from the start. He couldn’t risk jumping on and off some kind of dating-go-round, asking out any woman who happened to spin by. His failed marriage and Carol’s desertion had made him cautious, but Nick knew once he found the right woman, he’d have to jump in with both feet, hang on and not let go. Because try as he might, after looking at the idea from every angle—up, down, inside and out—he couldn’t work his way around one simple fact.
If Maddie needed a mother, then he needed a wife. Because God help him, he couldn’t figure out how to get one without the other.
The dog hadn’t moved.
Crouched down at the back stairs, Darcy Dawson squinted toward the far side of the crawl space beneath the porch. Every now and then, in the flashes of lightning that lit the darkness, she could see the reflection from the dog’s eyes, her only indication the animal was still there. Worry trickled through her, and she shivered, pulling up the collar of her coat closer around her ears.
She’d tried using the lure of the kibble, but the dog refused to come out of hiding. Refused, too, to eat from the bowl Darcy had shoved as far as she dared in the cramped space. She might have blamed fear of the storm for the dog’s behavior except it had holed up before the lightning and rain had begun.
Even though Darcy didn’t know anything about dogs, she knew something was wrong. But she didn’t know what it was or what she could do to offer any comfort.
Helplessness rose up inside her. “It’s just a dog,” she muttered against the lump in her throat. “You don’t even like dogs.”
The words echoing through her thoughts for the past half hour were a lie, and saying them out loud didn’t help convince Darcy they were true. She didn’t dislike dogs, but she was afraid of them. Had been since she’d been bitten by a neighbor’s dog when she was little.
Her fingers slipped past the collar of her sweater and she traced the scars along her shoulder, reminders from that long-ago day. As a kid, she’d shied away from dogs, and as an adult living in an apartment in Portland, she hadn’t been around them much. She simply didn’t go places where dogs were likely to be, and if she saw one in passing … Well, she just passed quickly.
But her move to the small town of Clearville, California, was supposed to be about making a new start and living in the moment. So when a stray dog wandered into her backyard after she’d left open the gate, she decided that maybe it was time to put her fear of dogs in the past, as well. Not that she planned to keep the dog; she wasn’t that certain of her ability to let go of a twenty-year-old phobia, but something in the animal’s crouched, uncertain posture spoke to her.
And, she had to admit, the dog was … interesting. A mix of silver and black from its alert ears down to its tail with brown and white spots on its face and legs. And its eyes—one brown and one blue—fascinated Darcy with their watchful intelligence. Of course, she’d only noticed thanks to the zoom feature on her digital camera. She hadn’t actually gotten near enough to see the dog’s two-toned eyes up close.
But she printed the pictures she’d taken, placing “Found Dog” posters around town. She’d also bought a bag of dog food and some toys at the grocery store and folded up an old comforter for a bed in the sheltered corner of the porch. None of which nominated her for Pet Parent of the Year, but just knowing the dog was in her backyard pushed Darcy out of her comfort zone.
Still, she’d been certain, in a town the size of Clearville, the owner would come forward in no time. Or that someone would recognize such a unique dog and know who it belonged to. She’d even imagined the scene—reuniting the poor lost dog with its grateful, tearful owners. Darcy would wave off their praise and offer of a reward, content to see owner and pet back together again.
But after a week, no one had called, and Darcy had started to wonder what she would do if the dog’s owner never showed.
Sometimes facing your fears is the only way to escape them. Her mother’s encouragement rang in her head, strong and sure.
But then her mother had always been brave.
The ache wasn’t as sharp as it had been following her mother’s death a year ago, but time had done little to lessen Darcy’s sense of loss. She blinked back tears. Her voice was rough around the lump in her throat as she whispered, “You always did say we should get a dog.”
Alanna had raised Darcy to be confident, strong, proud. Lessons Darcy tried to live by, but ones she’d failed recently. She’d been devastated by her mother’s death. Feeling so alone, she’d reached out blindly to grab hold of the first lifeline she could find. But Aaron Utley hadn’t helped her out of her misery as much as he’d taken advantage of it.
It was the only explanation Darcy had for falling so hard and so fast.
He’d seemed so charming and caring, Darcy somehow missed when that care transformed into control as he tried to mold her into the perfect accessory for an up-and-coming lawyer.
And she’d foolishly gone along. Hoping to ease the ache of sorrow and emptiness, she had convinced herself she was in love. For months, she poured her heart and soul into trying to be the perfect girlfriend and then the perfect fiancée. Only after gaining distance from Aaron had Darcy realized how fully he’d manipulated her. How he’d used her as his emotional punching bag, constantly setting her up simply to knock her down.
Thank God she’d gotten out before trying to be the perfect wife! She didn’t need anyone to tell her what a failure she would have been as Mrs. Aaron Utley.
But the anger following their breakup had been the kick in the butt Darcy needed to put aside her sorrow and recall the wonderful times she’d had with her mother. It had always been just the two of them, and they’d shared everything. Including her mother’s dream of moving back to the tiny Northern California town where she’d been raised and opening a small beauty boutique on Main Street.
Alanna wanted to take the knowledge she’d gained from her years managing a dozen different locations of a major department store chain and focus it on her own business. Moving then opening the shop had always been planned for a distant “someday,” but her death had taught Darcy to take advantage of today, and she was determined to make her mother’s dream a reality.
She refused to consider what she would do if she failed, so she’d handled it all—moving to a town where she didn’t know a soul, renting a century-old house in need of serious updating and planning a grand opening for a new business at a time when many shops were closing. If she had any doubts, any worries, she’d keep them hidden behind a confident facade where no one would see.
Fake