Falling For The Single Dad. Lisa Carter
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As were the navy trousers and sling-back pumps in a place where the preferred attire was flip-flops and shorts. A bun at the nape of her slim neck, tendrils of reddish brown hair framed the woman’s oval face.
“Mahogany.” With the woodworking he’d done of late, he should know. Her hair was the color of mahogany.
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until the woman’s gaze lifted.
Izzie scooted out of the armchair. “Daddy!”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. Lustrous, chocolate eyes. He remembered the women at church talking about the new librarian Kiptohanock hired after old Mrs. Beal retired. But she was unlike any librarian he remembered from his boyhood days in Richmond.
The woman frowned. He’d been staring, mouth open. He closed his mouth with a snap and flushed.
Izzie flung herself at him, clasping him around the knees. He staggered and wrapped his arms around her torso as much to steady himself as to drag his eyes away from the new librarian.
“Where were you, Daddy? I’ve been waiting...”
The woman’s lips tightened.
“I’m sorry, little lady.” He kissed the top of Izzie’s curly hair. “My watch stopped. I was at the Sandpiper going over the last of the remodeling plans, and I lost track of time.”
The woman rose. Five foot sevenish to his six-foot height, he estimated. Folding her arms across her chest, she tapped one slim foot against the hardwood floor. Disapproval radiated from her set features.
“Izzie’s father, I presume?”
Not a great first impression. He grimaced. Since when did he care about impressing a woman? Especially one so...so sophisticated. Because that had turned out so well for him before.
“She’s been waiting a long time.” The woman gestured at the now-deserted library. “All the other children went home with their mothers ages ago.”
He winced. “As I said, I’m sorry.”
The woman raised her chin. “Anything could’ve happened to the child. A father shouldn’t be too busy to take care of his family.”
Anger surged at the woman’s arrogant assumptions. He bit off the harsh retort that rose to his lips. The desire to put the new librarian in her place.
Beautiful, maybe. Unfriendly, for sure. Strange, a woman like her would choose the public-pleasing profession of a librarian. ’Cause this woman had the social skills of a barracuda.
With his anything-but-stellar track record in the romance department, this was why he kept it just him and Izzie. Were all women as hard-hearted as Jessica? Or was it his misfortune to only run into those types?
“I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you...” He allowed his gaze to rake her face and the armchair full of books. A look he hadn’t utilized since he commanded Coasties before Jessica’s death prompted his abrupt career change. “Don’t let us keep you from your shelving.”
The woman’s eyes enlarged. “I’m not—” An interesting blush stained her cheeks.
Izzie tried to climb up his legs. Bending, he scooped his daughter into his arms. She was getting heavy. Too big to hold.
But he’d hold Izzie close as long as he could. Because besides Izzie and a run-down lighthouse, what else did he have in his life?
Izzie captured his face between her small, warm palms and wrenched his attention from less pleasant thoughts. “She’s Caroline. We had fun.”
At her words, the woman—Caroline Whoever—uncoiled a notch.
He reminded himself he’d been in the wrong. Not her job to babysit his child. He took a deep breath. “I apologize again. I’m doing the best I can.”
That hadn’t been enough for Jessica, though. And in Caroline’s equally cool appraisal of him, he felt his every deficiency flayed bare.
His lips twisted. He’d never been enough for anyone.
Izzie squeezed her legs around his waist and hung her arms around his neck.
Except maybe Izzie.
Izzie lunged, and he almost dropped her. “My books, Daddy.”
Caroline What’s-Her-Name blinked. “Oh.” She snagged hold of the seen-better-days library bag Izzie dragged along on every outing.
Weston took the bulging bag and sagged beneath its weight. “Leave any for the other children?”
His daughter giggled. “Daddy and I will see you next week, Caroline.”
“I’m not...” Caroline’s face did a fair imitation of Izzie sucking lemon rinds.
He gave the librarian a nice view of their backs. See her next week? He’d sit on the library porch while Izzie enjoyed story time if it meant avoiding another less-than-pleasant encounter with the stone-cold Caroline.
Who had the face of a Renaissance Madonna and the disposition of a killer shark.
When she’d looked up from the pages of the book and found his smoldering blue eyes fixed upon her, Caroline’s heart leaped in spite of herself.
Midthirties, she guessed. From his sweatshirt and his dark brown military buzz—close cut on the sides—probably an active duty or one-time Guardsman. A ’come here, not native-born to the Shore.
Through the library window, she watched the ruggedly handsome man tuck Izzie into the green Chevy Colorado parked beside the diner across the square. His broad shoulders under the gray Coast Guard Academy sweatshirt bunched as he leaned to fasten Izzie’s seat belt.
Notwithstanding Caroline’s fifteen-year absence from Accomack County, she didn’t recognize him. She heaved a sigh. She didn’t think she would’ve forgotten him had they previously met. Her gaze flicked toward the now-empty chair.
She’d enjoyed cuddling with Izzie. Who would’ve foreseen that? Not Caroline or anyone who knew her, she guessed.
Definitely not mother material. But no more stalling.
Caroline glanced at the mounted wall clock behind the librarian’s desk. Guests typically left the Duer Lodge midmorning in pursuit of their day’s activities.
She’d scheduled a lunch meeting with her longtime colleague at the Virginia Institute of Marine Science to finalize their grant-funded summer pilot program. If things went as well as she expected at the family homestead—which was to say, not well—she had someplace else to be.
Caroline turned her head toward the babble of voices at the top of the ornate staircase. Kiptohanock’s real librarian emerged on the landing with a sixty-something matron Caroline—unfortunately—did recognize.
“Caroline Victoria Duer.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Escape so close and yet so far.
“Is that you? After all this time?”
A lot of water under that proverbial bridge, but some things—like some people—didn’t change. Including Mrs. Davenport, otherwise known as the Kiptohanock Grapevine.
Mrs. Davenport, plumper after fifteen years, descended the staircase like a bygone movie queen. “As I live and breathe, Seth Duer’s second oldest come home at last.”
Other Kiptohanock bookworms popped out from between the stacks across the hall to get a look. The twenty-something librarian’s eyes blinked behind her fashionable horn-rimmed glasses.
Time, like sand in an hourglass, had run out for Caroline.
If she didn’t beat the village blabbermouth to the punch, her father