Claiming The Single Mom's Heart. Glynna Kaye
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was done aboveboard, out in the open. I don’t know who told you that space was to be a bookstore. Maybe it was someone’s idea of a joke?”
Or the doing of his aunt Charlotte, who owned the gallery space. She and her big-city lawyers not only grabbed custody of her toddler son, but just about cleaned out Uncle Doug. That was what rallied the family to pull together and form Hunter Enterprises as a future protective measure.
“We’ve had this plan for the game supply store in the works,” he continued, “and preliminary approvals acquired long before the Co-op leased the property next door to it.”
“I understand that and I did make that point to everyone at the meeting.”
This kind of thing was exactly what Mom didn’t need—misinformed people starting up a petition that she’d have to address in her campaign. But that was the least of her and Dad’s worries right now. Despite the family’s urging, with Luke’s wedding scheduled for last weekend she’d postponed surgery until today. In fact, he’d just come back from the regional medical center in Show Low.
With effort, he drew his thoughts back to the present. “You said earlier that the Co-op signed a three-year lease, right? If Co-op members are so bent out of shape, why don’t they simply sublet this place, find a new spot and be done with it? There are plenty of available properties.”
In fact, Hunter Enterprises had bought several—like the one where the game supply store would go—to keep longtime friends from going bankrupt. But others were now bank owned or the absentee owners continued to fork over the mortgage payment until an upswing in the economy allowed them to unload the property.
Sunshine brushed back her hair. “Unfortunately, there’s a nonsublease stipulation in the contract.”
That figured. Aunt Char wouldn’t risk a Hunter subletting one of the prizes she’d managed to wrest from them.
“Look,” she continued. “I was quite firm that a petition would cause hard feelings in the community toward us—the ‘aliens.’ You have heard us called that, haven’t you?”
A glint of amusement now lit her eyes.
“Aliens. Outsiders.” His own smile tugged. “Just as I’ve heard those of us who’ve long made this our home labeled ‘old-timers’.”
“So you can see it’s not to our benefit to further antagonize the community. Or at least that’s my standpoint.”
“Spoken with the finesse of a true politician.”
“I’m not a politician. I’m merely someone who feels passionate about the arts and fair play.”
“Fair play? Pushing into a community uninvited and trying to extinguish the core character of a town?” Newcomers needed to accept Hunter Ridge for what it was or move on. Even a newcomer who looked mighty attractive tonight in denim capris, sandals and an off-the-shoulder embroidered tunic.
“Look, Grady—”
“Mommy?” A plaintive voice called from the top of the staircase and a barefooted, pajama-clad Tessa eased down one step at a time. “I think there’s something in my closet.”
Grady caught the distress in Sunshine’s eyes.
“Sweetie, there’s nothing in your closet but your clothes.”
“But there is.” The girl’s eyes widened as she spied him, and then she crouched down on the step.
Sunshine sent a look of apology in his direction. “Give me a few minutes to get her back to bed.”
“Sure. And about those building renderings I gave you...”
“I’ll drop them off tomorrow after I’ve looked at them again, if that’s okay.”
“That won’t be necessary. Shredding them would be fine.”
Sunshine frowned.
“There you are, Tessa.” A feminine voice called from the top of the staircase and a short-haired young blonde appeared, relief tingeing her tone when she spied the little girl. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I stepped into the bathroom for a minute or two.”
“It’s okay, Tori. Don’t worry about it.”
The other woman took Tessa’s hand, her gaze touching on him curiously. Sunshine caught the look.
“Tori, I’d like you to meet Grady Hunter. Grady, this is my friend Tori Janner. She’s visiting from Jerome.”
“Hunter?” The name was spoken almost cautiously.
“As in our soon-to-be next-door neighbor,” Sunshine supplied. “He stopped by to let us know to expect more activity tomorrow.”
“I’ll get out my earplugs.” She tugged lightly on Tessa’s hand and the two returned upstairs.
Grady shifted. “I’d better let you go trounce whatever is in Tessa’s closet. Monsters?”
Sunshine gave a weary sigh. “Monsters I could deal with. Moms are natural-born slayers of monsters. This, unfortunately, is a more vague anxiety that’s had her upset since shortly before school started.”
“Once she makes friends and settles into a new environment, those worries will evaporate.”
“That’s my hope.” But she didn’t sound as if she believed his words.
He moved closer to look down on her with mock chastisement. “Now, don’t you go worrying about Tessa’s worrying. You know what the Good Book says about that.”
Or maybe she didn’t know. She’d only recently started attending Christ’s Church of Hunter Ridge. Was that a politically motivated move? He’d like to think a single mom had more concern for her child’s spiritual welfare than that. But God gave people more freedom of choice than he would if running the show himself.
With a sigh, she stared down at the floor and his chest tightened. This kid thing must be getting to her.
“It’s just that...” She shook her head, lost in thought.
Without thinking, he reached out and gently lifted her chin with his fingertips, her startled eyes meeting his.
“Stop with the worrying, Sunshine.”
* * *
She froze, staring up at him as the warmth of his fingers shot a bolt of awareness through her. An unsettling, although not unpleasant feeling. But this was Grady Hunter. A male cut from the same bolt of cloth as her ex.
She stepped back to break the connection, fearful he’d feel the pounding of her heart. “Believe me, I’m doing my best not to.”
“Well, good, then.”
Their eyes remained locked for an uncomfortable moment, and then she glanced to the top of the staircase. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop off the design printouts tomorrow?”
“Like I said, destroy them.”
There went her excuse to visit Hunter’s Hideaway again.
He moved toward the door, then paused in front of a watercolor painting displayed on an easel. “I noticed that several of these bear the intertwined initials ESC. Is that you?”
The subject of this painting in particular could have clued him in on the identity of the artist, as well. The child, in partial shadow and facing slightly away, might easily be recognizable as Tessa to someone who knew her. Reluctantly, Sunshine joined him where he continued to study the painting.
“The E stands for Elizabeth. Sunshine’s always been the name I go by.” Her father, who’d been around more often in those early years, had bestowed it on her when she was a toddler.
“You’re extremely talented.”
“Thank you.”