One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,90

if Hope would be at breakfast this morning. But he knew the answer: she wouldn’t. She must be making herself scarce on purpose, while he had breakfast alone with Ella. If only the city council hadn’t forced him to fix up the hardware store he’d have more time to get to know his daughter. He wouldn’t be in Sweet Home forever. The good news was that Ella didn’t seem to be nearly as angry at him as she’d been. He’d done what Hope had suggested—basically played hard to get—and it seemed to be working. Ella had loosened up, talking to him about Boomer and how to train dogs. It was a start. He’d have to thank Mr. Brewster for giving him a job with dogs when he was a kid.

What he really needed to thank Mr. Brewster for was all he’d done to renovate the hardware store. The old man had really pulled everyone together, putting the right person in the right job. Donovan still wasn’t convinced it would be ready in time for the Christmas Festival, but everyone sure was trying. He was so incredibly grateful for the town’s help.

As he walked down the stairs, he pondered the logistics for Thanksgiving. While everyone took off for the long weekend, Donovan planned to work as much as possible, especially since Ella wouldn’t be around. Hope had said she took Ella on a turkey camping trip every year, where they brought a turkey roast and baked it over the coals. He wished Ella would come help him at the hardware store over the weekend, or it might have been nice if he’d been asked to go along on the camping trip, too.

But maybe it wouldn’t have been the best to be camping with Hope again, which would dredge up the old feelings and bring back the good times they’d had together. He already had enough recent memories to deal with . . . like holding Hope in his arms. And how it made him feel both vulnerable and invincible at the same time. Though she could take care of herself, holding her made him feel fiercely protective, and in those seconds, he wanted to be her man always. Even more unnerving, and frightening, was that those few moments with Hope had been the first time he’d felt right in close to two decades.

In the kitchen he found Ella sitting quietly at the table. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t even look up from her phone.

Donovan started the coffeemaker, then pulled down two boxes of cereal—Ella’s Lucky Charms and Life for him.

“So,” Ella started, still concentrating on her phone. “In the trophy case at school, there’s two pictures of you, holding trophies.”

“Yeah. State football champs, junior and senior year.”

“So you were a real hotshot, huh?”

“Not all that impressive, since our division was super small. Everyone had to play to make up a team.”

“Quarterback?” she asked, looking up this time.

He nodded. “I could throw.”

“Were you a jerk to the girls? Acted like you were all that?” There was something in her voice—she seemed . . . hurt.

“What’s his name, Ella? If someone is treating you badly, I’ll take care of it!”

She jumped to her feet, grabbing her phone. “It’s nothing. It’s none of your business anyway. Stop acting like you’re my dad!” She stomped from the room without pouring one ounce of cereal.

So much for the headway he’d made.

“Did I hear Ella?” Hope asked.

“Yeah. I screwed up again.”

Hope patted his arm as she limped by. “Not your fault. She didn’t come with an instruction manual.”

It was nice that someone knew how he was feeling.

“How’s your ankle?” he asked. “I noticed your crutches have gone missing.”

“I’m glad to be rid of those devil sticks. My ankle’s fine.”

“Your limp speaks volumes. I hope you’re staying off it, letting it heal.”

“I spend most of my time at my sewing machine or guiding others on what piece of furniture needs to be put where. Speaking of sewing, you should peek in your grandmother’s studio when you have a minute, to see how the quilts are coming along.”

“I’ll do that.” He gazed at Hope for a long time and wondered what it would be like to have days like this on a regular basis. Passing in the hallway, feeling her touch, moments of him sharing his life with someone like Hope.

She gazed back, but finally broke the spell. “How’s the hardware store coming? I hear bits and pieces from the Sisterhood of the Quilt. I’d like to hear it