Driftwood Bay (Hope Harbor #5) - Irene Hannon Page 0,32
sky. “I better close before those clouds open up and douse us. You have a wonderful day, Jeannette.”
With that, he rolled down the window on the truck.
As if on cue, a raindrop plopped on her nose, prompting her to hurry toward her car.
But once behind the wheel, she sat and stared at the gray horizon.
Begrudging Logan West some female companionship would be uncharitable. And Molly deserved a mother. No doubt her neighbor would be open to friendly overtures.
Maybe even hers.
Except she wasn’t in the market for a relationship.
Jamming the key in the ignition, she scowled at the shuttered taco stand.
This was all Charley’s fault. She hadn’t had any romantic fancies about her neighbor until he’d planted the seed.
Well . . . not many, anyway.
And certainly no conscious ones. It wasn’t as if she could control the content of her dreams, after all.
Besides, so what if a certain handsome doctor had made more than a few appearances in her slumbering fantasies? It had to be some subliminal, instinctive female reaction. She might not be interested in a relationship with him, but no woman would be immune to the man’s charisma. A few dreams didn’t mean a thing.
She pulled out onto Dockside Drive, aimed the car toward home, and did her best to erase any thoughts of the doctor and his niece from her mind. She’d already stepped way outside her comfort zone with the tutoring gig, and she didn’t need another disruption in her life.
Especially one that was Hollywood handsome.
Not to mention available.
10
“I appreciate your efforts, Reverend Baker. Let me think about your suggestion.” Logan shifted the cell against his ear and massaged his forehead.
After spending countless hours trolling the net for a childcare setup in the area that fit his parameters—with nothing to show for his efforts—the minister had been his last hope.
So much for getting good news on this Friday afternoon.
“I know it’s not ideal.” The cleric’s tone was commiserating. “But I’m afraid that’s the best I’ve been able to come up with after polling the most likely members of the congregation.”
“Understood. I’ll give you a call later today.” As he thanked him again and hung up, Toby began to bark.
The headache he’d been fighting all morning pounded harder in his temples.
What a mess.
The older woman in the Grace Christian congregation who’d offered to watch Molly until he found other arrangements might have to be an interim step—but he’d rather find a permanent solution. If his niece hit it off with her, then was yanked out in a few weeks, they could be right back where they were now—or worse.
At a slight scuffling noise behind him, he twisted in his chair at the kitchen table and looked toward the hall.
Molly was hovering on the threshold of the room, Toby at her side, one finger stuck in her mouth. Again.
Not a positive sign.
Logan relaxed his features. His niece had a remarkable ability to pick up nonverbal clues, and there was no reason for both of them to worry about the fast-approaching deadline for a childcare decision.
He picked up his car keys from the table and jingled them. “Would you like to take a ride into town? If Charley’s cooking today, we could have tacos for dinner.”
Instead of responding, she disappeared down the hall.
So much for that idea.
Except he had a sudden craving for tacos—and he wasn’t in the mood to cook.
They were going to town.
Logan stood, snagged Toby’s leash, and snapped it on. No more leaving the pup in the spare bedroom.
How the dog could have done that much damage in an empty room while they were at church was beyond him—but it wasn’t happening again.
Now that the electric fence had been installed, training the dog to stay within its boundaries was his top priority. Filling holes in the yard would be much easier than repairing gouges in the drywall.
All he had to do was squeeze three fifteen-minute training sessions a day into his schedule for the next two weeks—on top of working out the daycare issue and starting a new job.
Logan leaned back against the counter, shoulders slumping.
If God was trying to test his mettle, he was doing a superb job of it.
Molly reappeared, a sheet of paper in one hand, her jacket in the other.
Huh.
She must want to go after all.
Would he ever learn to read this child who shared some of his DNA?
“What’s that?” He straightened up and motioned toward the paper.
After hesitating a moment, she set her crayon drawing on the table.