Page 2 of Restored By You

“Local contractors? Do you know their reputation? Their availability?”

Each question feels like a tiny blow, deflating the excitement I walked in here with. What was I thinking bringing this up at our weekly luncheon? I knew I should’ve sent an email.

“Dad, I’ve thought this through.”

“Have you?” He turns to face me, and for a moment I see something softer in his expression. “Because if you have, if you’ve really done your homework…” He pauses, seeming to consider. “The concept isn’t terrible. Restoration over renovation—there might be a market for that.”

My heart lifts slightly. “Really?”

“The Whitetail location is smart. Proximity to the resort could provide good B-roll footage.” He’s talking more to himself now, that calculating look I know so well. “And your fashion background does give you a unique angle.”

I hold my breath, hardly daring to hope.

“If you’re aiming to pitch this to the network I’ve invested in, then I’ll need to see your full business plan, of course. And the property would need to be—”

The office door swings open without a knock.

“Daniel, I’m so sorry we’re early—” A woman with shoulder-length auburn hair and laugh lines around her green eyes stops mid-sentence when she sees me. She’s beautiful in that effortless way, wearing jeans and a cream sweater that probably cost less than my shoes but looks infinitely more comfortable.

Behind her, a lanky teenager with dark hair and pale skin slouches through the doorway, earbuds in, completely absorbed in his phone. He barely glances up.

“Michelle,” Dad says smoothly, as if he hadn’t just been caught mid-conversation. “Perfect timing. I’d like you to meet my daughter, Shea.”

My brain stutters. This woman is nothing like the parade of twenty-something blondes who’ve cycled through my father’s life. She has to be at least fifty, with genuine warmth radiating from her smile and not a single piece of designer anything visible.

“Shea!” Michelle’s face lights up like I’m the best surprise she’s had all week. “Oh, my goodness, you’re even more beautiful than your pictures. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

I stand automatically, my mind still trying to catch up. “It’s…nice to meet you, too.”

The teenager finally looks up from his phone, giving me a once-over that screams I’d rather be anywhere else.

“And this,” Dad continues, his voice carrying just a hint of something I can’t identify, “is Tyler. Michelle’s son.”

Son.

The word hits me like ice water.

My father married a woman with a child. A teenage child. This goes against everything I know about Daniel Winton’s carefully curated bachelor lifestyle.

“Tyler,” Michelle says gently, pulling out one of his earbuds. “This is Shea, Daniel’s daughter I was telling you about.”

Tyler gives me another dismissive glance and mumbles, “Hey,” before immediately reinserting the earbud.

“He’s fifteen,” his mother says with an apologetic smile, as if that explains his couldn’t-care-less attitude. Which, honestly, it kind of does.

I manage a weak smile back, my mind spinning. “Fifteen. Wow.”

Dad clears his throat. “Michelle, Tyler, please, sit.” He gestures to the leather chairs across from his desk. “We were just discussing—”

“Actually,” Michelle interrupts, settling into a chair while her son plops himself into the other like he’s boneless, “we should probably talk about the arrangement we discussed.”

My stomach drops. Arrangement?

Dad’s jaw ticks again. “Right. Yes.” He turns his attention to me, and for the first time in years, my father looks genuinely uncomfortable. “Michelle and I are taking an extended honeymoon. Six weeks in Europe.”

“That’s wonderful,” I say with an easy breath. He won’t be around to harass me about this big project I’m undertaking. I’ll be free to make decisions without him hounding me constantly over progress, progress, progress.

“The thing is,” Michelle chimes in, her tone bright. “Tyler can’t miss that much school, even if it is online, and I don’t believe in nannies. Family should always be there for family, you know?”