Claiming The Single Mom's Heart. Glynna Kaye
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with his own eyes the repercussions of Aunt Charlotte’s nasty divorce from Dad’s younger brother, you’d have thought he’d have been more cautious about where he placed his heart. But he’d been head over heels for Jasmine—who’d falsely given others the impression that he and his family endorsed a controversial land-development project she was orchestrating behind the scenes. One that, had she succeeded, would have resulted in filling her pockets with a lucrative kickback. Thankfully, the ring was still in his pocket when everything came to light. But it had been a close call.
“Grady?” His twenty-year-old sister, Rio, appeared in the doorway, sun-streaked blond hair cascading down her back and her expression troubled. “Sunshine Carston’s here. She says you’re expecting her, but I asked them to have a seat while I tracked you down.”
“Them?” Sunshine brought someone else along? He hadn’t counted on a third party.
“Her kid is with her.”
Tensed muscles relaxed. “Thanks, I’ll go get her in a minute.”
Rio departed and Grandma Jo returned to the door.
“This is a smart move, Grady, to put Sunshine’s fears to rest. Don’t let the past cause you to second-guess yourself.”
But had his motive for inviting her been entirely untainted? Since that last disaster in the romance department, he’d rededicated himself to safeguarding the Hunter clan in both business and personal dealings—going to excessive lengths to ensure he didn’t make the same mistake again. But had his invitation, ostensibly on behalf of family business, been influenced by a subconscious hope of spending time with the attractive woman?
Now alone in the room, he moved to the window facing the forest behind the Hideaway and adjusted the wooden louvers. Rearranged a chair. Straightened a crooked lampshade.
Then, tamping down an inexplicable sense of anticipation, he paused again to appraise the room—and uttered a silent prayer that his spiritual armor would remain securely in place.
* * *
“Come sit by me, sweetheart.” Sunshine patted the leather sofa cushion next to her, relieved that Tessa seemed less clingy this morning than she’d been in recent weeks. She’d slept somewhat better last night, too, only calling twice for her to banish something lurking in the shadows of her closet. Now enthralled with the animal heads on the log walls, the half-barrel end tables and an antler-designed chandelier above, it was almost too much to expect her raven-haired kindergartner to anchor herself to one spot.
Maybe she should have waited to come until after Tessa was in school for the afternoon. Having a five-year-old in tow wouldn’t make sleuthing for clues easy. But after the holiday weekend, Tori had had to make a quick trip back to the thriving Arizona artists’ community of Jerome. Then she’d return tomorrow to help with Tessa and, somewhat reluctantly, with the historic record research Sunshine intended to do.
“Look, Mommy.” Tessa pointed to a wide staircase that ascended to an open-railed landing. “Can I go up there?”
“I’m afraid not. We’re not guests.”
But how tempting to look the other way while Tessa wandered up the carpeted flight, then hurry up behind her to bring her back, giving herself a chance to look around. This building, of course, may not have existed at the time her great-great-grandparents had been here. Probably hadn’t. But could there still be something of value to lend credence to Sunshine’s grandma’s stories?
“Good morning,” a familiar male voice greeted. “I’m glad you could make it here today.”
She stared into Grady’s smiling eyes as he approached from a hallway beyond the staircase, looking at home in the rustic surroundings. In jeans, work boots and a Western-cut shirt, he exuded a commanding confidence.
She rose from the sofa, a betraying flutter in her stomach. But was that at the prospect of exploring private areas of the historic building? Or spending time with Grady? “I hope you don’t mind that I brought my daughter. She won’t be in school until this afternoon.”
“No problem.” Still smiling, he held out his hand to the little girl. “Hi, I’m Grady. What’s your name?”
“Tessa.” She shyly shook his hand.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful young lady.” Grady looked over at Sunshine. “She looks like you.”
Sunshine’s face warmed. She’d heard that comment before. She’d wildly, foolishly, loved Tessa’s father, Jerrel Carston. But she was grateful not to look into a miniversion of his face on a daily basis.
“Is this your house?” Tessa asked, again drawing Grady’s attention.
“This is where I do business. I live in a cabin not far from here.” He glanced at Sunshine. “Would you like to come back to my office? I can walk you through the plans.”
“Thank you. Come on, Tessa.”
They followed Grady through a shadowed hallway, Sunshine taking her time as she tried to absorb everything around her. Old photographs, paintings and sketches on the walls. An antique mirror. Faded framed embroidery work.
Up ahead Grady waited outside an open door, watching as she paused to study the faces in one of the yellowing photos.
“Is this your family?”
He laughed, and the sound unexpectedly warmed her. “Who knows? Mom’s been known to rescue historic photographs from garage sales and antique shops, and they can pop up anywhere—guest rooms, cabins, hallways.”
Disappointed, she gave the image a lingering look as Grady beckoned her and Tessa forward to usher them into his office.
Inside the sunlit room, he motioned for them to take a seat off to the side, his gaze touching apologetically on her daughter. “I’m afraid I don’t have any fun kid stuff, Tessa.”
But as always, Tessa’s eyes were wide, taking in her surroundings with interest. The book-lined shelves, wall groupings of photographs from an earlier era and striking black-and-white photos of wildlife. Elk. Deer. A fox.
“Don’t worry. Books, paper, crayons. We’re set.” Sunshine held up a tote bag, then almost laughed at the relief passing through Grady’s eyes.
“Well, then, let’s take a look at the plans, shall we?”
With Tessa rummaging through the tote, Sunshine joined him at the table, suddenly aware of his height, solid build and a subtle scent of woodsy aftershave. He tugged one of the large blueprint sheets forward. “What we have here is an elevation of the front of the building. As you can see, it looks like any other shop you’d expect to encounter in Hunter Ridge.”
It did, and the tension she’d harbored since Saturday eased slightly. The two-story stone structure remained true to the 1940s era in which it had been built. But it was the color rendering of the building on a laptop screen that brought its charm alive. Even with the shop’s name lettered on the window, if she didn’t know better, she’d think you were entering nothing more controversial than a gift shop or bakery.
“So what do you think?”
It would be nothing but stubbornness that kept her from admitting its acceptability. She raised her eyes to his, startled by the intent scrutiny of his gaze. “It appears tastefully done.”
He gave a brisk, satisfied nod and tapped a key on the laptop to bring up another rendering. “The second floor is reserved for an office and stock, but this is the front interior. As you can see, it gives the impression of what you’d expect of an old-fashioned hardware store.”
Lots of wood. Retention of the beamed ceiling and polished wood flooring. Indirect lighting.
“And this—” his gaze, now uncertain, remained on her as he moved to the next screen “—is the interior rear of the building.”
The game processing area. But it looked as modern