Page 13 of Falling for Keeps

Her nose wrinkles. “They look like dog poop, Dad.”

I nod, watching her explain all the ways we can bougie up the waiting room to make it better for kids, my heart swelling with love for this little girl and her grand ideas. “When did you become a designer, Nickel?”

Her cheeks pink softly. “Mom let me help choose her colors for her new house, remember?”

My stomach drops. “I didn’t remember that.”

“Before we left. She had the book of all those paint colors and we picked out everything together. She said she would send me pictures once it’s done, but…I don’t think she’s done yet.”

Translation: Penny hasn’t heard from Jen in ages. “I’m sure she’ll send them at some point. She knows you’re busy right now.”

Penny looks slightly disbelieving.

Time to change the subject before she asks to call her mom. That never ends well. Either Penny is ignored and spends a few days despondent, or Jen answers—rarely, but it happens—and Penny has to hear all about her exciting new life. Is it really so hard to ask the nine-year-old one question about herself? “If you could paint this room any color, what would you choose?”

“Fairies and bunnies.”

“That’s not a color, Pen.”

“It’s much better,” she counters.

“Okay, we can find a compromise later. Maybe we can head to the hardware store and look at paint chips. You want to paint your bedroom? Nana said you can do any color you want.”

Her eyes light up, and she bounces on her toes. “Yes!”

I move to lift a few boxes of files when someone walks down the sidewalk on the other side of the road, snagging my attention. She’s wearing a long pencil skirt that goes past her knees with a sweater and boots, and something about the prim look coupled with the way I know she can loosen up hits me in the stomach.

I never realized I had a sexy librarian fantasy until now, but Emma walking like that with her hair twisted in a low bun and a pencil resting behind her ear is driving feelings through me I haven’t had in a long time—or since Saturday night, I guess.

What is going on with me? Why am I hoping she’ll stop in to say hi? She must know I’m here by now. It’s been a few days since our pantry run in, and I haven’t had any sightings of her until now.

It doesn’t change the fact that I know I’ll never be able to trust a woman again. Love and marriage aren’t in the cards for me. Hopefully someday, when Penny has been launched from the nest and is off living her own life, I’ll be able to find someone to spend my time with, but for now, that’s so far on the horizon it’s practically a speck.

Emma glances up, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and looking in my direction.

Sheesh, can she hear my thoughts? I step away from the window so she won’t spy me creeping on her like a meerkat on Valium.

She must know my whole story. In a town this small, everyone must know my story.

Moving back into my mom’s house, broke and thirty-one, wasn’t on my bingo card for this year. But neither was getting divorced, receiving sole custody of the world’s most opinionated nine-year-old, or pouring every cent I have—and many I don’t—into a failing dental business. Dr. Vance had never heard the words filing system or cleaning solution before, which means I’ve got both a steal of a deal and loads of elbow grease ahead of me. Evidently I’m a gambling man.

I glance out the window again, but the sexy librarian is gone. When I first met her in Burlington last weekend, she’d looked slightly familiar, but everyone does in a town of two thousand when you’ve spent most of your life there, so I’ve probably seen her around before. I went to dental school in Tennessee and lived there until last week. I’ve been gone from Vermont for more than ten years, except for the occasional visit, and I still recognized nearly everyone I saw in the market yesterday.

Some places never change. Some people never leave. And others go away to share a life with someone else who decides being single is more fun and important than their child and what are marriage vows, anyway?

I’m not bitter.

I inhale slowly, dust lodging in my lungs and forcing me into a coughing fit. This dental practice will be worth something when I’m through with it. Right now, though, it’s a money drain. I need to give it a total makeover, figure out a filing system for the few remaining patients who still come here, and brainstorm ways to drum up business.

After last night’s nightmare episode sharing my twin bed with a pointy elbow in my back, I’m more than tired just thinking about it.

Which reminds me—I need to work on making Penny’s room a place she wants to be in. I glance at the watch my ex-wife gave me when I passed my dental boards. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I pick up the keys to my Lexus. “You ready, Pen?”

“Yeah,” she says, pushing away from the bin of toys with a heavy sigh. “Can I have a phone?”

My feet stop. “What?”

“You heard me, Dad.” She pushes straggly blonde hair from her eyes, and her bright blue nails stand out against her pale skin. “Maybe Mom hasn’t sent me pictures of her new house because I don’t have a phone. She probably doesn’t want to send them to you.”