One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,72

would fix the problem. Once again, he considered putting Sweet Home in his rearview mirror. But the thought of leaving Ella when he hadn’t even gotten to know her had him rolling out of bed. He couldn’t immediately fix what was troubling his daughter, but he could tackle today’s to-do list that Rick had put together.

When Donovan stepped into the kitchen, Hope was already there, looking in the cabinets. She must’ve set her alarm to early o’clock, too.

“Coffee’s up there,” he said, pointing.

She jumped and grabbed her chest. “You did it again. Don’t scare me like that. Especially when I’m not fully awake.”

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

She paused before answering. “Fine. You?”

“The same,” he lied.

She went back to making coffee. “I’ll get this started and then I need to get Ella’s clothes in the dryer so she’ll have something to wear to school.”

He shook his head. “I finished her clothes last night.”

“You what?”

“I hung up a bunch of her things since I wasn’t sure if they went in the dryer or not. Go take a look in the laundry room. You may need to pop something into the dryer.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” She sounded almost angry.

“It’s no big deal. I was awake.” And she’s my daughter, too.

Hope turned on the coffeemaker and huffed from the room.

She was back in a few minutes. “Um, thank you for taking care of her things. Sorry, you know, for how I acted. I’m not used to getting help and it kind of freaks me out.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Have you thought about therapy for that?”

“Like I could afford it,” she muttered.

He pulled down a couple of coffee cups for them. “Should I get a mug down for Ella, too? Does she drink coffee in the morning?”

“Goodness, no. She already drinks too much soda with caffeine as it is.”

“What does she like for breakfast?” he asked. He genuinely wanted to know.

Hope scanned the room. “If it’s okay, I’ll make French toast, her favorite. I want to do something special to make up for her having to stay here.”

His defenses went up but he settled them down. He remembered being a teenager and how even little changes could set him off. “Make yourself at home.” He pulled all his thoughts together and tried to form them into words. “You know, I’m not sorry that your water heater flooded your house.”

“What? That’s a horrible thing to say—”

He blew out some pent-up air. “Sorry. Not what I meant. What I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you’re here.”

Her eyes flicked wider in . . . surprise?

He had to set her straight. “I’m glad for the chance to get to know Ella.”

“Yes, well, that’s good. I’m glad you want to know her.” But judging by her tone she wasn’t completely on board. “She’s a great kid.” Hope poured her coffee, not meeting his eyes. “I assume, since I’m your employee, that I’ll have to help you get ready for the wine tasting?”

“Yes. If that’s okay.”

“What if I say no?”

“You can’t, Hope. It’s all hands on deck. And then some, if you’re up for it.”

She turned around suddenly, her face expectant, her coffee nearly sloshing over the side. “Do you mind if Ella helps out, too?”

“That would be great.” He should’ve thought of it, another chance to spend time with his daughter. “We can definitely use all the help we can get.” Now he had five people on the team.

“I think an after-school job would be good for her, help her to work through her grief over my dad.” Hope opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. She paused for a second. “You said at the town council meeting that you’re a . . . recovering alcoholic?” She looked embarrassed to have said it aloud.

“I am. What do you want to know?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you have ideas on how to get Ella to stop drinking. How did you stop?”

This was the first inclusive thing Hope had said to him concerning Ella.

“The military helped a lot,” he responded readily. Being in the service gave meaning and purpose to his life and helped him through his darkest days of losing Beau. “There’s nothing like Uncle Sam bearing down on you to make you get out of bed in the morning.” The military had also given Donovan a career path. He served his term of service, got his GED, went to college, and then started his own software company. Last month, days